I never fly with my entire family at the same time. I learned this from my ex’s fiancé’s parents, years ago, before I became a mother. His parents will never fly on the same plane with their only child, even now. And he’s 48. Why? Because if, god forbid, and sorry to be so morbid, but if something went wrong (you can imagine all the scenarios) then at least their only son, who they love like no other, would still be alive.
This may be twisted thinking for some, but I totally get it. In fact, when they go to the same destination, his parents will go on an earlier flight, and then he will go on a later flight, on the same day. I’ve adopted this practice, since becoming a mother. On a recent family vacation to Mexico, it was a bit of a gong show, to say the least, booking tickets for everyone in our blended family. I left first with my daughter, then a day later my nanny (who is like a family member) left with our baby, and then the day after that, my fiancé brought down his two girls. That’s three flights, to the same place, in three consecutive days. The chances of something going wrong (hijacking, crash, etc.) becomes less minimal, and at least, if I die (sorry, again, to be so morbid, but once you become a mother, the worry never stops!) the children will have at least one parent to raise them and take care of them.
There are other, more superficial reasons, as well, like who would take care of my ex-fiancé’s parent’s businesses, or my fiancé’s business if they were gone. If I died in a plane crash, or my fiancé did, since we’re not on the same flight, at least I know my son would be well taken care of by one of us. Yes, I take my daughter with me, but that’s only because she’s ten, and my good luck charm (My daughter is, enviably, one of those humans who is always lucky at everything!) and I don’t really trust just airport employees, who are supposed to look out for your children on the plane if they are travelling alone. How many stories have we read that children, under supposed supervision, ended up in Vegas when they were supposed to end up in Barbados? When she’s older, like 18, you can bet I will not be travelling on the same plane as her, even, in fact, when she’s 48. We’ll just meet up later, the same day, after taking different flights. Sure, she’ll be sad if I die. But I want her to live more than I do and she’ll understand that. I want my son to live more than I do, and though he’s only 18 months, he’ll too eventually understand. What mother wouldn’t give up their own lives for their child’s?