Leaving on a jet plane, Part Deux

If you recall, on our flight to Texas my mom was with us making it a little less stressful for me.  However on the return flight home, it was just Miss K and I.  True panic ensued about 2 days prior to the flight as I tried to plan ahead and make sure I had as minimal carry on baggage as possible.  I had booked the same time frame for the return flight to coincide with morning feeding and nap.  Remembering the trauma of the first flight, I was up and we were out the door almost two hours before our flight!  Of course we get to the airport and realize there is no curbside check in for Delta.  My mom helped get everything out but since she was just dropping us off I had to pull two suitcases, push the BOB with all contraptions attached (for the complete run down see Part One post) all while trying to get my ID out.  Have you ever thought about the concept of pushing something while pulling another?  It's about as easy as it sounds.

We finally got checked in and bags made it in the legal time limit.  Our flight was delayed about 15 minutes; no problem, that would allow me to grab a bite with time to spare.  We made it through security, no toiletries were taken and Miss K was wanded and once again declared free of any explosive devices.  At this point we are still a good forty minutes until our new departure time so we browse the magazines and make our way to the gate.  Good so far, yes?  Yes.  My blood pressure had remained pretty stable and I was almost getting a bit cocky thinking I had this trip in the bag. 

Our boarding time comes and goes.  The plane is at the gate so it wasn't a flight delay.  Our departure time comes and goes.  Miss K is beginning to get a bit squirmy and fussy and decides to take a snooze.  UGH...here we go again.  My friend Murphy is back.  We are told that there is a small mechanical issue with the plane and they are just waiting on the paperwork and we should be about 30 more minutes.  OK, I can handle that.  At this time, a very nice, older businessman sitting next to me strikes up a conversation asking about Miss K, telling me about his kids and just shooting the shit.  Thirty minutes come and go.  By this time, it is nearing 9:00, what would have originally been halfway through our flight had we left on time.  Another announcement is made- (the following is my translation of the what was said) "Hi folks! That small mechanical issue?  Well, it's actually not so small, more like a slash in the tire and whoops...we can't fly with that tire.  So, we have to wait for a tire to be flown in on the next incoming flight so we can change it out.  We should have some more news around noon."  WHAT THE FRICK?  NOON?  Let the water works begin.  I try to call my mom, no answer.  Of course this is the one day she's volunteering for Habitat for Humanity and not at work.  Sister.  No answer.  Just Miss K and I left to fend for ourselves for three more hours.  How in the world am I suppose to keep Miss K entertained with minimal toys for three hours?   That and I only have one bottle with me.  I have enough formula, but I am super weird about reusing bottles without washing them thoroughly.  Call it first baby syndrome, but I just got over the paci dropping and not sterilizing it before popping it back in her mouth.  All other flights are completely booked so no hope there.  We ended up departing at 11:30 and Miss K did great.  She got fussy a few times, but crap, I wanted to get fussy because I too was bored!  She slept the entire flight and how crazy is it that the seat next to me was the ONLY seat open on the entire flight!  That made it nice because I was able to stretch out a bit and not have to worry about bothering someone else.

Everyone on the flight lauded how great she did and were super impressed that this was her first flight!  While we survived and it wasn't as traumatic as it could have been, I'm not planning on making any more solo flights in the near future!  The lesson learned from this adventure is to expect the unexpected.  I think that may be the motto of my life these days.

Life

I know I have a few of you wondering what happened on our return flight from Texas and I promise I'm working on it, but here's a snapshot of what my life has been like the last 2 weeks....

We have moved from our cozy, uber-comfortable home in NC to a blah, smelly, furnished apartment in ATL while we find a house to buy.  The normally angelic and happy-go-lucky Miss K is completely out of whack, has a RAGING diaper rash and has cut her first tooth.  Add to the mix two super neurotic dogs that have displayed their utter disgust in the move and apartment by throwing up and then going on a hunger strike.  Plus I now have to take the dogs out on a leash (ughhh) with Miss K several times a day AND pick up their poop- gross.   I have also decided to start my own business (more on this in another post) and to top it all off, Big Poppa was in NC all weekend supervising the movers packing up and getting the house ready to close so my usual few minutes of freedom on the weekends didn't happen.  That and I need a pedicure more than a druggie needs their fix.  If I don't get some "me" time or at least a pedicure soon I might just lose it.  Oh, and running??  What is that?  I think my running shoes have cobwebs on them...sigh.  Runner friends out there, please send some good vibes my way.  Thanks!

The good news in this craziness?  I think we are down to two homes.  We go out again with our realtor tomorrow afternoon to revisit the two and then discuss.  Hopefully we'll have a decision this weekend and an offer out next week!!  There actually may be some sunshine on the horizon folks!

Is anyone else's world crazy these days?  If so, feel free to share the insanity- I love reading your comments and now that I have a tracker, I KNOW people are reading. So share!

Leaving on a jet plane, Part One

**WARNING** This post is more of a vent/mommy fist pump recap of Miss K's first flight.  Please feel free to stop reading if bored.  I will try my hardest to make it funny while keeping it real.  :)

To all the mommies out there in blogland that have ever flown solo with an infant, you will probably find yourself nodding your head and maybe even giggling empathetically as you read this.  For those of you that still get to travel lightly or have yet to make that first flight...consider yourself warned. 

Miss K and I went home to Texas at the end of April for two weeks.  I needed to get home for some TLC (Texas Love & Comfort) and with Big Poppa commuting to and fro to Atlanta every week, I was about to lose my ever-loving mind.  Enter Maga, AKA my mom.  (No, I did not pick that name for her.  She's been Maga for almost 8 years before Miss K.  That's what happens when you have grandchildren last- no say in their nickname.)  We were going to Charleston, SC for the weekend, so she flew in for that and then drove with us to Atlanta where our adventures begin.

I planned our flight to coordinate with a morning feeding and then nap.  7:30 AM flight.  Perfect.  We'd board, take off, feed, sleep, land, and be in the Lone Star State.  No hassles, right?  Almost.  No one told me in the hospital after Miss K, or in my child-birth classes before Miss K that when flying with an infant the travel gods hate you.  You know Murphy's Law?  Yep.  He was on our flight that day.  And believe it or not, he was on our return flight.  Bastard.  To try and make it as easy as possible, the night before our flight we stayed in a brand new hotel at the airport that let us jump on the tram to the airport.  This was perfect as Big Poppa did not have to park at the airport and allowed him to escort us to check in since he is Mr. Platinum on Delta.  After an unsuccessful 10 minute try to check in at the kiosks, we get to nanny-nanny boo- boo all the poor folk in line and go to the special "no waiting"  Plantinum line.  Picture it though- one mommy, one daddy, one Maga, one super sweet Miss K, one BOB stroller, one Teutonia car seat and base, one rolling suitcase, two extra large shoulder bags, a diaper bag, a purse and a laptop.  No, we were not going to Mars.  Just Texas.  For two weeks.  As we were getting checked in and letting the agent know that we are checking two of the three bags (my bag and Miss K's bag- neither packed to be legal carry ons), we are so politely informed that Delta has a 45 minute prior to flight cut off to check bags.  Excuse me?  It was exactly 44 minutes until our flight and had we bypassed the kiosk debacle we would have been an hour early.  Yes, I am aware that you are suppose to be at the airport 2 hours before your flight but I'm 32 years old, not 82 plus I have yet to get anywhere on time since having Miss K no matter HOW early I get up or HOW far I plan in advance.  At this point Big Poppa/Mr. Platinum gets very business-like and puffy chested trying to negotiate with the agent.  No budging.  If you counted the number of bags and crap I listed earlier (9,345,567) and divide by the total number of ticketed passengers in this adventure (2) you will realize we were screwed.  No pretty pleasing the agent to make an exception, no later flights available to get on, no way to check our bags on a later flight.  We were one important suitcase over the limit so Big Poppa took my bag and said he would overnight it to me.  Please note that my last two flights home to Texas have resulted in delayed or lost luggage so I was actually looking forward to having clean underwear the first day home.  Enter my friend Murphy- no clean underwear for this momma the first day home.  But I was smart and packed my toiletry bag in Miss K's suitcase so I had the necessities.  After some tears and profuse sweating due to an almost breakdown (me), we made it to security.  Prior to Miss K, I had the routine down pat.  Shoes off and laptop out before I even hit the bins.  Not as easy now.  I got Miss K out and put our 25 bins on the conveyer belt.  We go through and guess who has illegal liquids in their bag?  You got it, muoh.  Remember how I said that I didn't pack our bags to be carry on friendly?  Let's just say I lost about $25 in face moisturizer and lotions.  Whatever.  After determining that my baby was not a terrorist in hiding and I was not carrying an explosive device in the BOB we were on our merry way to Concourse Z, Gate 1,000.  We literally walked up as they were almost done boarding.  I must say though, throughout the madness of our morning, Miss K was an angel.  I love that child.  All smiles and giggles as mommy is drenched in sweat and in need of some prescription drugs.

Twenty minutes into our flight we are fed and sleepy.  I get Miss K as comfortable as I can to take her nap and as she is settling down would anyone like to guess what happens next?  I'll let you think and guess............yep, massive poop.  Smelly, soy formula, massive poop.  With about two hours left of the fully packed flight.  What in the crap am I suppose to do?  Thankfully there is a changing "tray" in the bathroom that is above the toilet.  It is however within a very curious Miss K's reach of everything dirty in a bathroom.  I can now check off changing a poopy diaper on an airplane.  Does this mean I get to join the mile high club?  :)

The rest of our flight is uneventful, both Maga and Miss K slept the entire time while mommy's arm went numb from the elbow down trying to keep Miss K comfortable.  We get to Maga's house after a quick swing by Kolache Factory (oh dear..heaven)  and relax.  I call Big Poppa to let him know that we made it and I didn't have to be Baker Acted.  He proceeded to tell me that my bag was taken care of and overnighted to Maga's house.  It only cost $121.  Seriously.  No bull shank.  I got off the phone and asked my mom if it was too early to have a drink.

Lucky for the USPS, my bag did arrive the next day (albeit later in the day) so no one was hurt.  Miss K and I had a wonderful time at home relaxing, spending time with family and friends, and eating great food.  For those of you still awake at this point, I am going to leave you pondering about our return flight.  I will save it for a separate post tomorrow.  Two words to keep you hanging...mechanical difficulties.

Run Forrest, Run!!!

I mentioned in one of my earlier posts that I am trying to fall back in love with running again.  Pre-Miss K, I was running three to four miles a day during the week and then a long run on the weekends, usually 6 or 7 miles.  For some of you reading this, my long runs are your daily runs.  But for those of you that know me, I have never been a runner.  Ever.  However, it's always something I've been envious of and really wanted to be good at.  I also had this crazy dream to run a marathon before I turned 35.  And ever since hitting the milestone birthday of the big 3-0 a few years ago I decided that I just needed to do it.  So I did.  I found a women's running club and joined their 5K school.  After a few months of what felt like self-torture, I was getting pretty good at it.  Mmmm, that's maybe exaggerating a bit.  I was getting comfortable with it and actually enjoying it, but I wasn't committed.  I found plenty of excuses not to run when I didn't feel like it. 

During this time, Big Poppa and I were trying to get pregnant.  We tried unsuccessfully for two years.  After a miscarriage in November 2008, my doctor decided to do some tracking and testing and we realized we (I) needed some help so we (I) started Clomid that following January.  We found out we were pregnant in April and had Miss K on Christmas Day.  What in the WORLD does this have to do with running????  Well, it's what started my running journey.  I started running seriously after my miscarriage as an outlet to be able to think.  And cry.  Alone.  Those runs allowed me to run out my frustrations and it gave me a purpose when running.   Somewhat cliché, yes?  But slowly my purpose changed from a way to grieve and run away to enjoyment.  Through that process I learned to enjoy running.  Plus the fact that my legs looked outstanding and I was able to drop about twenty pounds was just icing on the proverbial cake.  When we found out we were pregnant with Miss K, I had to stop running per my doctor's orders.  My heart rate has always been high when I run and she didn't want me to overdo it.

That leads me to today.  I had been itching to get back out and run since before I had Miss K.  Once I got the go ahead from my doctor, I slowly started back on the dreadmill at the gym.  Not my fav, but what can you do when it's piss cold and rainy which is what the weather was until about a month ago.  I knew that it was going to be a struggle to get my running mojo back after pretty much a year of not running.  I was actually scared to start again because I knew that I would have to go through that hump of falling in love and that I now have many more excuses to not go for a run.  Knowing that I wasn't going to have my running club to help get me through this transition, I called Liz, AKA my running Yoda for help.  Liz is the brilliant owner of Janes On the Run, the fabulous women's running club that helped me fall love the first time.  If anyone was going to be able to help me the second time around, it was Liz.  I explained my situation and goals to her and after a meeting over breakfast I felt reassured and ready to run!  She has drafted me a new base building plan through July to regain my original running base, and then....wait for it......I start training for my first marathon in August!!!  You got it!  I am signed up to run the Walt Disney World Marathon on January 11, 2011!!  Two years before my goal. 

I have just finished my first week back in the program, and I must say it feels great!  Not great like I pink puffy heart it great, but I think I'm getting my mojo back.  I will keep you updated as I rekindle the flame and get ready to kick some Mickey butt!  Here's a quote from author/runner John Bingham that I have always found encouraging.  If you're looking for inspiration and motivation to start running, I highly recommend his book, No Need for Speed: A Beginner's Guide to the Joy of Running.  A must read for any beginning runner!

                “The miracle isn't that I finished. The miracle is that I had the courage to start.”
                                                                                                -John Bingham

Run on friends, run on!!!