I thought our biggest turbulence would be in the sky, not our marriage. One minute, we were ready to board with diaper bags and twins; the next, I was trying to hold everything together while Nolan disappeared behind the curtain into business class.
That feeling of disbelief washed over me at Terminal C’s gate. Baby wipes spilled from my pocket. Lyric was strapped to me; Jett gnawed on my sunglasses. Our first real family trip, and I was already exhausted.
We were headed to Florida to see Nolan’s parents. His dad had been eagerly awaiting these twins. The gate chaos of strollers, car seats, and bags overwhelmed me. Nolan whispered, “I’ll just check something,” and vanished. I thought nothing of it… until boarding began.
The gate agent smiled at him. Nolan grinned: “Hon, I’ll see you when we land. I scored an upgrade. You’ll manage with the kids, right?” I laughed, assuming it was a joke. It wasn’t. He kissed me and went off.
I was left alone with tantrums, spilled juice, and a broken stroller. My neighborly seatmate switched out, and I barely kept it together. My phone pinged: Nolan, enjoying a hot towel. Then a ping from his dad: “Send a video of the kids!” I filmed Lyric drumming and Jett chewing his toy.
Landing was another battle. Nolan appeared leisurely behind me. My father-in-law, Calvin, didn’t react to Nolan’s greeting. That evening, after the twins slept, the shouting in the study began. Fifteen minutes later, Calvin came out: “I handled it.”
A trust for the kids was established, securing their future. Nolan’s share? Diminishing until family came first. By our return flight, Nolan tried to help, but the kiosk revealed the ultimate lesson: business class again—one-way, with a note: “Explain to your wife.” I couldn’t stop laughing. Karma had its say, and lessons were learned.