There are two camps when it comes to traveling via air with kids. Those who feel your pain and those who believe you never should have brought your tots in the first place. Comments on a recent story about air travel showcased this as honestly as I have ever seen.

As a proud new aunt, I quickly booked tickets for a cross-country trip when my first nephew was born last week. With my husband, preschooler, and infant in tow, we arrived at the airport for our daybreak flight with every supply known to man shoved into my diaper bag and accompanying totes. Armed with lollipops, baby bottles, quiet toys, books, blankets, a personal DVD player, and enough snacks to feed the entire back of the plane, we took off and landed six hours later with barely a peep out of my lil travelers. To say I was beaming as we deplaned would be an understatement. To see what happened,


Aware of how smooth my first flight was, I arrived at the airport with a swagger in my step as we prepared for our return. I should have known the trip wouldn't go well when, as I stood at the end of a 50-person line at security, my infant proceeded to have a diaper blowout and then scream until I was able to change him 20 minutes later. Once on the plane (which didn't have a single empty seat), my husband and I spent the better half of the trip walking the kids up and down the aisles to keep them occupied but that did nothing to temper the minor meltdowns both had when the aircraft ended up circling the airport for an hour before landing. Once we actually began our descent, my older tyke proceeded to get sick all over his father (and the floor below him) and just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, we deplaned to find that the airline had jammed our stroller when we gate-checked it, leaving it unable to unfold properly. Not knowing whether we should laugh or cry, my husband glanced over to me and gave me a knowing smile that could only mean – never again!