Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Swimming in March (and in Utah even!)
The high point of our trip for the kids was probably when we went swimming at the new Herriman Recreation Center pool just a couple of days before we left. Indoor pools aren't really something on every corner here in Houston, and the kids hadn't been in the water since our community pool closed in September. Once they were in, I couldn't get them out for four hours.
Grey kept kicking himself back and floating like this over and over for long periods of time, and he would fight me when I would try to sit him up. This boy knows how to relax.
Fun on the slide ... until I landed in the six inches of water at the bottom. Ouch!
Better for little bottoms, I think!
Utah Trip Odds and Ends
Charlotte enjoying some Kindle games with her cousins Molly and Kate
Grey screaming for his mommy when someone else tries to hold him. (What else is new?)
My brother David and his beautiful wife Sarah
Charlotte enjoying a "golden" cupcake that Grammy baked for her
Two squirmy kids on Grammy's lap at Cafe Rio. (Mmmmmm, Cafe Rio!)
Yep, she's been working out!
Sunday Morning Photos, Utah Edition
A couple of pics from before church in Utah. Since we just happened to all be wearing black and gray, we thought we should go for it. (Missed you here, Adam!)
Monday, March 19, 2012
Lauren's Shower
"What's that you say? It's Aunt Lolly's baby shower? YAY!" Charlotte enjoyed attending the "big girl" party for my sister Lauren and her baby on the way with cousin Molly.
The lady of honor, my sister Lauren, and me with cousins Jessica and Becky
Mom, Cookie, and my sister Ashley
My sister Caroline and step-sis Jessica
The whole gang
Cousin Neylan, Aunt Ariel, and me
Cha-Cha enjoyed herself immensely. Grey did too ...
Taking a nap with Grandpa after their "man date" to the playland at McDonald's while the girls partied.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Snow 2012
The same snowstorm that caused me so much anguish as our airplane was landing in Salt Lake brought good times for the kids outside over the next few days. Charlotte was especially excited to romp around in the snow, make a snowman, make some snow angels, and see the white flakes falling from the sky.
My brother David (a.k.a. Uncle Bubba) helped Charlotte build, and destroy, a snowman in the front yard.
A Houstonian born and bred, this little guy wasn't such a fan of the snow for the first few days, preferring just to watch the action from his chair on the patio.
Fast forward to a few days later when temperatures hit the low 60s in Utah. Frosty began to bite the dust ...
But the warm weather put Grey back into a good mood!
(Yep, that's a ladle in his hand. We were hard up for toys at Grammy's.)
Thursday, March 1, 2012
You Stink, Delta/Skywest
So I just got escorted off of an airplane by airport security at the Salt Lake Airport two hours ago.
Yes, I'm badass now. Eat your heart out, Jack Bauer.
This is how it went down, if you want all the gory details. (There really is no way to summarize this.) When the kids and I got to the airport in Houston this afternoon, the Delta/Skywest people told me at the gate they had to move our seat assignments because we were flying on a "regional jet" a.k.a. dinky, crappy plane to Salt Lake. (BYU booked these tickets for us or I would have never flown Skywest. I'm a Continental/United girl.) So they moved us to the row right in front of the bathroom (everyone's dream seats). Charlotte started freaking out immediately because there was no window, and I told her that we just had to suck it up because we were riding on the stupid plane today. One of the two flight attendants happened to overhear me and very loudly said, "Well, if you don't like it, you can get off and wait for the next flight." Huh? I didn't say anything back but just sat down. A few minutes later, the same flight attendant, whose name turned out to be "Ebony" (yes, a white girl from West Valley, Utah), leaned over and told me that Charlotte's DVD player had to be turned off since we didn't bring headphones for it. Then a few more minutes later, she sat down in her little seat right next6 to me (a fold-down off the bathroom door) and told me I had to take Charlotte's bag from her and put it under the seat. I dropped it on the floor and kicked it under but in a way that let her know I was getting annoyed. After we sat on the tarmack for 25 minutes, Charlotte and Grey were both crying for the DVD player and I said, "Maybe we can get it back out if we ever take off" and White Ebony said, "Ma'am, I am one minute from turning this plane around and making you get off of it. Your son keeps kicking the seat in front of you and you refuse to put that bag under the seat." She pointed to Charlotte's bag, which apparently I hadn't gotten far enough under the seat. Needless to say, I was getting mad. "Why are you harassing me? I feel like you are picking on me? Are you discriminating against me because I have kids?" (All the while, my kids are crying and fussing in the background.) I actually leaned forward and apologized to the woman in front of me who was struggling with her own two-year-old and said it was nothing. She kept threatening me, saying she would turn the plane around, and the minute the plane got going, she said, "I'm going to have to have someone meet you at the gate." WHAAAAAT? Then I was so angry I hit her low, and I'm not proud of this: "Maybe you're frustrated because you are in a low-down job at this crappy low-end airline, but don't take it out on me."
After that, Ebony was on me like (ironically) white on rice. The funny part was that for the next two hours, I sat there in my seat feeling really bad about how I had behaved. I felt kind of beat up, and I cried for about fifteen minutes. She had provoked me, but I had responded very poorly and I shouldn't have. Really, I started feeling terrible and knew I was going to wake up in the middle of the night feeling bad about this, so I decided I would apologize when she sat back down in her little toilet-door chair at the end of the flight.
In the meantime, chaos ensued with the kids. It was an afternoon flight, so there were no naps, just fussing and more fussing. Grey pooped his pants, there was a constant stream of people in the bathroom, and so I just kneeled in front of the seat and changed him really fast. While I turned around to throw the diaper away when I could finally get into the bathroom, Grey stood up on my chair and popped the cover off of the occupied/not occupied light above and I couldn't find the cover anywhere. Oh well, I thought.
Well, Ebony came back to her potty chair at last for the plane's final descent, but immediately she started talking (read: flirting) with the missionary who was flying home sitting across from us. I waited for an opening. But the plane started shaking. And shaking badly. Apparently, Salt Lake's first big snowstorm of the year hit a half hour before the plane was scheduled to land, and the turbulence was incredible. And we had no window. Anyone who knows me well knows that I have a very weak stomach. And I had a hot, fussy baby on me and a whining preschooler next to me screaming for the DVD player. I sat there for about fifteen minutes getting sicker and sicker, and finally I knew I was going to have to get to a window or I was going to yack. I asked the missionary across from me if we could trade seats because I was sick. Ebony quickly quacked, "You can't move. The seatbelt light is on. And you can't sit on this side of the plane with the baby." The wonderful woman in the seat in front of me said, "I'll take your baby." I handed Grey off and was over there in a hot second pushing the missionary out of his seat. Of course, both of the kid started screaming I had moved. Charlotte unbuckled her seatbelt and started trying to crawl over the elder. I was hanging over the window holding a barf bag to my mouth and shaking and sweating all over and praying to God that I wouldn't lose it or pass out, I was that sick. And Ebony was yelling at me that I had to make Charlotte sit down because--surprise!--it's not safe to be unbuckled during laning. In two seconds, I grabbed Charlotte, buckled her up, yelled "Really?! It's not safe to be unbuckled during landing?!", turned around, and threw up in the bag. And that was just the beginning of the good times.
For the next half hour, I alternated between throwing up, praying that God would make my kids go to sleep and stop crying, and wondering if karma was kicking my butt for being rude to Ebony. And of course, Ebony is still flirting with the missionary and completely ignoring me and my kids. I even felt like the airplane pilot was out to get me. Three times, we went through the clouds, through the turbulance, through the snow (which was coming down so hard with the wind it was going completely sideways), coming in sight of the runway to have the pilot lift up the plane at the last second and announce "We can't come down in this direction," or "There's too much traffic to land," or something else. So we went back up through the snow, through the turbulance, and through the clouds where I would dry-heave some more over the full bag in my hands. I was praying I could just pass out. By the time that plane laned on the fourth try, I was so sick I could hardly move my head. I was covered in sweat, nauseated beyond belief, and shaking like a leaf. I had no idea how I was going to get myself and two kids off of the airplane since I wasn't sure I could move.
But no, wait ... Things are going to get even better. Everyone files off the plane. Ebony goes and gets on her little airplane phone. I finally gather up my strength and stand up and then Ebony comes back and says, "You need to stay seated. Security is coming to speak to you." Two minutes later, the airplane pilot, the gate agent, and five security agents (who apparently pulled up in a police car on the tarmack) get on the airplane. The pilot comes back and starts yelling at me for "allowing" my daughter to get up and "run around" on the plane while the seat belt sign was on and we were landing, and that I had blatantly endangered myself by moving seats, and that I "let" my son destroy the lavaratory sign. Apparently, Ebony had not told him I was incapacitated with nausea and vomiting during the entire last half hour of the ride. He vigorously defends the flight attendant when I tell him she was harassing me. The gate agent is yelling over his shoulder and saying that four people got off of the plane and complained that my children and I were disturbing everyone. (Yep, I purposely moved over and started barfing so they would scream.) And here I was, two feet from death thanks to his "professional" landing skills, weak and tired and overwhelmed and being blatantly harassed by everyone at Delta. The security people walked me off and the Delta gate agent continued to yell at me and my children all the way up to the gate and he scared Charlotte so bad that she started crying. Fortunately, my mom was standing at the gate and when she saw this guy yelling and me and making my kids cry she ran down and started yelling at him. Finally, I had an advocate!
Outside of the fact that the entire experience was humiliating, torturous, and ridiculous, I tend to cut the pilot, the gate guy, and the security guards some slack, because they were all simply going on what Ebony had told them. No one else had even asked me what happened or spoken to me at all during the flight, and I was at the opposite end of the plane from every member of the crew but Ebony. But I can't say I feel very charitable toward the evil Ebony tonight. As the security walked me and my children off of the plane, I walked by her and gave my parting shot, pronounced like a curse: "One day you are going to have children, and then you are going to pay for what you did to me today." Amen.
Yes, I'm badass now. Eat your heart out, Jack Bauer.
This is how it went down, if you want all the gory details. (There really is no way to summarize this.) When the kids and I got to the airport in Houston this afternoon, the Delta/Skywest people told me at the gate they had to move our seat assignments because we were flying on a "regional jet" a.k.a. dinky, crappy plane to Salt Lake. (BYU booked these tickets for us or I would have never flown Skywest. I'm a Continental/United girl.) So they moved us to the row right in front of the bathroom (everyone's dream seats). Charlotte started freaking out immediately because there was no window, and I told her that we just had to suck it up because we were riding on the stupid plane today. One of the two flight attendants happened to overhear me and very loudly said, "Well, if you don't like it, you can get off and wait for the next flight." Huh? I didn't say anything back but just sat down. A few minutes later, the same flight attendant, whose name turned out to be "Ebony" (yes, a white girl from West Valley, Utah), leaned over and told me that Charlotte's DVD player had to be turned off since we didn't bring headphones for it. Then a few more minutes later, she sat down in her little seat right next6 to me (a fold-down off the bathroom door) and told me I had to take Charlotte's bag from her and put it under the seat. I dropped it on the floor and kicked it under but in a way that let her know I was getting annoyed. After we sat on the tarmack for 25 minutes, Charlotte and Grey were both crying for the DVD player and I said, "Maybe we can get it back out if we ever take off" and White Ebony said, "Ma'am, I am one minute from turning this plane around and making you get off of it. Your son keeps kicking the seat in front of you and you refuse to put that bag under the seat." She pointed to Charlotte's bag, which apparently I hadn't gotten far enough under the seat. Needless to say, I was getting mad. "Why are you harassing me? I feel like you are picking on me? Are you discriminating against me because I have kids?" (All the while, my kids are crying and fussing in the background.) I actually leaned forward and apologized to the woman in front of me who was struggling with her own two-year-old and said it was nothing. She kept threatening me, saying she would turn the plane around, and the minute the plane got going, she said, "I'm going to have to have someone meet you at the gate." WHAAAAAT? Then I was so angry I hit her low, and I'm not proud of this: "Maybe you're frustrated because you are in a low-down job at this crappy low-end airline, but don't take it out on me."
After that, Ebony was on me like (ironically) white on rice. The funny part was that for the next two hours, I sat there in my seat feeling really bad about how I had behaved. I felt kind of beat up, and I cried for about fifteen minutes. She had provoked me, but I had responded very poorly and I shouldn't have. Really, I started feeling terrible and knew I was going to wake up in the middle of the night feeling bad about this, so I decided I would apologize when she sat back down in her little toilet-door chair at the end of the flight.
In the meantime, chaos ensued with the kids. It was an afternoon flight, so there were no naps, just fussing and more fussing. Grey pooped his pants, there was a constant stream of people in the bathroom, and so I just kneeled in front of the seat and changed him really fast. While I turned around to throw the diaper away when I could finally get into the bathroom, Grey stood up on my chair and popped the cover off of the occupied/not occupied light above and I couldn't find the cover anywhere. Oh well, I thought.
Well, Ebony came back to her potty chair at last for the plane's final descent, but immediately she started talking (read: flirting) with the missionary who was flying home sitting across from us. I waited for an opening. But the plane started shaking. And shaking badly. Apparently, Salt Lake's first big snowstorm of the year hit a half hour before the plane was scheduled to land, and the turbulence was incredible. And we had no window. Anyone who knows me well knows that I have a very weak stomach. And I had a hot, fussy baby on me and a whining preschooler next to me screaming for the DVD player. I sat there for about fifteen minutes getting sicker and sicker, and finally I knew I was going to have to get to a window or I was going to yack. I asked the missionary across from me if we could trade seats because I was sick. Ebony quickly quacked, "You can't move. The seatbelt light is on. And you can't sit on this side of the plane with the baby." The wonderful woman in the seat in front of me said, "I'll take your baby." I handed Grey off and was over there in a hot second pushing the missionary out of his seat. Of course, both of the kid started screaming I had moved. Charlotte unbuckled her seatbelt and started trying to crawl over the elder. I was hanging over the window holding a barf bag to my mouth and shaking and sweating all over and praying to God that I wouldn't lose it or pass out, I was that sick. And Ebony was yelling at me that I had to make Charlotte sit down because--surprise!--it's not safe to be unbuckled during laning. In two seconds, I grabbed Charlotte, buckled her up, yelled "Really?! It's not safe to be unbuckled during landing?!", turned around, and threw up in the bag. And that was just the beginning of the good times.
For the next half hour, I alternated between throwing up, praying that God would make my kids go to sleep and stop crying, and wondering if karma was kicking my butt for being rude to Ebony. And of course, Ebony is still flirting with the missionary and completely ignoring me and my kids. I even felt like the airplane pilot was out to get me. Three times, we went through the clouds, through the turbulance, through the snow (which was coming down so hard with the wind it was going completely sideways), coming in sight of the runway to have the pilot lift up the plane at the last second and announce "We can't come down in this direction," or "There's too much traffic to land," or something else. So we went back up through the snow, through the turbulance, and through the clouds where I would dry-heave some more over the full bag in my hands. I was praying I could just pass out. By the time that plane laned on the fourth try, I was so sick I could hardly move my head. I was covered in sweat, nauseated beyond belief, and shaking like a leaf. I had no idea how I was going to get myself and two kids off of the airplane since I wasn't sure I could move.
But no, wait ... Things are going to get even better. Everyone files off the plane. Ebony goes and gets on her little airplane phone. I finally gather up my strength and stand up and then Ebony comes back and says, "You need to stay seated. Security is coming to speak to you." Two minutes later, the airplane pilot, the gate agent, and five security agents (who apparently pulled up in a police car on the tarmack) get on the airplane. The pilot comes back and starts yelling at me for "allowing" my daughter to get up and "run around" on the plane while the seat belt sign was on and we were landing, and that I had blatantly endangered myself by moving seats, and that I "let" my son destroy the lavaratory sign. Apparently, Ebony had not told him I was incapacitated with nausea and vomiting during the entire last half hour of the ride. He vigorously defends the flight attendant when I tell him she was harassing me. The gate agent is yelling over his shoulder and saying that four people got off of the plane and complained that my children and I were disturbing everyone. (Yep, I purposely moved over and started barfing so they would scream.) And here I was, two feet from death thanks to his "professional" landing skills, weak and tired and overwhelmed and being blatantly harassed by everyone at Delta. The security people walked me off and the Delta gate agent continued to yell at me and my children all the way up to the gate and he scared Charlotte so bad that she started crying. Fortunately, my mom was standing at the gate and when she saw this guy yelling and me and making my kids cry she ran down and started yelling at him. Finally, I had an advocate!
Outside of the fact that the entire experience was humiliating, torturous, and ridiculous, I tend to cut the pilot, the gate guy, and the security guards some slack, because they were all simply going on what Ebony had told them. No one else had even asked me what happened or spoken to me at all during the flight, and I was at the opposite end of the plane from every member of the crew but Ebony. But I can't say I feel very charitable toward the evil Ebony tonight. As the security walked me and my children off of the plane, I walked by her and gave my parting shot, pronounced like a curse: "One day you are going to have children, and then you are going to pay for what you did to me today." Amen.
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