Last night, I was in a row on an airplane that sat four, two on either side of the main aisle. Hanna and Ellie sat together, Chloe piled on top of me, despite a perfectly good, paid for seat, sitting empty.

Greg somehow once again managed to assign himself the single seat in the row ahead thus removing him from any “can you open these crackers?” “can you find the lid to my orange marker?” “can you help me find the hidden roller skate in this picture?” “can you make me so cozy, I love you so muchy?” Tom Foolery the parent in the row with the under-agers has to deal with.

After Chloe’s second in-flight soiled diaper, my third trip to the bathroom with Ellie, using a barf bag as a hand puppet to entertain anyone who wanted to watch my one-woman, one-act play “Puppetry of a mother on the edge,” I finally felt Chloe giving in to her previous resistance to a nap. Come on big money. This rest could mean I could use the one ear phone still in decent working order while the other that had been completely mangled by a curious and bored baby dangled somewhere into my diaper bag.

The moment arrived after almost three hours in flight. Just when I thought I could piece together Rachel Ray’s thirty minute meal with volume rather than guessing,, was that kale or spinach? I felt a spritzing covering first my hair, followed by my cheek, neck, sweater and leaving a large soaker on my thigh.

Hanna had become engaged in her fifth episode of iCarly and decided to pass me her milk that had been served to her in a cardboard juice box. The bendy-straw, a periscope, protruded through the top of the milk carton, pointed directly across the aisle at me while Hanna pulsated what she thought was an empty container with each laugh at her show.

I guess as a minor, she was unaware that just because the carton felt empty doesn’t mean it is and consequently, her squirts resulted in an unexpected milk shower for Mommy.

I waved her off but to no avail. Her headphones both appeared to be working and meant my loud whispers (so as not to wake the baby) weren’t getting through. In fact, it only doubled my soaking, only this time, head on.

I think I’ll stick to surprise birthdays.