San Diego!

This past weekend Clayton was going to make a trip to Michigan to check out the law school he has been accepted to there. (Oh ya- Clayton got accepted to two law schools and wait-listed at two others. So in the fall it looks like we will probably be in Spokane Washington at Gonzaga.) However, flight loads to Detroit were bad (non-rev travel is always stand-by) so we decided to take Eleanor on her first trip instead. Eleanor had not yet met her uncle Tyler and aunt Rachel, so we went to San Diego!

All packed up at the airport.

SkyWest sent Eleanor a cute little onsie that says "SkyWest Airlines - Future Flyer". She had to wear it on her maiden voyage of course. However it looks a touch boyish, so I made her wear a ridiculously frilly headband to compensate. Mother's vanity, oh well. Due to a full flight, Clayton and I couldn't sit together on the plane. I was a tad nervous, but luckily the people next to me both had noise reduction head phones and I was able to relax a little. It turns out I had no need to worry. Eleanor did great on the flight. Once we were safe at the gate in San Diego I took a minute to pose her for some shots.

Here is her typical look of "Really mom?".

"I mean seriously, we get it. I'm on a plane. Big deal."
I have about eighty more shots of her looking at me like this.

We had a lovely weekend with Ty and Rachel. They took us to Coronado Island where we enjoyed the beach. Eleanor had a lot of "firsts" this trip.

She didn't enjoy the sunscreen application, nor the wind. But the second her toes touched the (very cold) water she perked right up. She is definitely a water baby.

Our little nugget barely fits into her swimsuit. I love her little tummy poking out from under her tankini. She is so very edible.

Notice the sad face for being out of the water?

On Saturday night Eleanor and I both experienced a first. Our first major league baseball game!

We got to cheer the San Diego Padres onto a victory over the Chicago Cubs.

Baby was super well behaved at the game. I thought the noise might bother her, but she took it all in stride.

Rachel, Tyler, Marianne and Eleanor.

Everyone got free shirts at the game. I love free stuff! Eleanor wore hers instead of a blanket. And Clayton said this is the first and last time you will see him in a Padres shirt. P.S. We are not Cub fans, no no no. We are St. Louis Cardinals people through and through. Eleanor already has two Cardinals outfits, but they don't fit yet.

Our little family.

Doll-baby on a hotel bed.

Our flight home. It was a SkyWest flight which was fun for me. We got to sit together which was nice as well. Little E was perfect again. It was Sunday so she is wearing her church clothes.

Back home again. Ready to greet the hoards of people waiting to adore her. Like the co-presidents of her fan club. (P.S. My dad is in his painting clothes.)

And Great-grandma, who always wants to "tickle, tickle,tickle the little pet."

P.S. Note the size of her thighs! Awesome.

Were you maybe wondering what things I don't miss about my job? No? Well, then this isn't the blog entry for you.

So it is official. I am on Maternity leave. And it's weird. I have odd feelings of guilt, like I have a test I should be studying for and decided to play video games instead. It was definitely high time that I took leave, yet it has been one of the harder decisions I have ever had to make. I don't know who I think I am letting down here, probably just myself. And I have to fight the annoying thoughts of "Well, so and so flew this long", or "she worked right up to her delivery..." blah blah blah. I have to keep convincing myself of a few things to keep me sane.
I know that work was getting physically too hard for me. I know that I got "big" very fast while other women are "normal-sized" longer. (I know that I am fine, just the right size, and not a planet, yet.) It's just a fact that I cannot do a lot of the things that my job requires anymore. Let me list a few to make myself feel better. Thanks for indulging me.

1-Repetitive bending below the waist. My job includes picking up a million little things off the floor of the airplane throughout the day. I also have to cross seat belts and clean out seat pockets after each flight. This is a lot of twisting and stooping that is pretty difficult while pregnant.
2-Lifting luggage above my head. Even though flight attendants aren't really supposed to stow people's bags for them, it's always easier if we just do it. You would be amazed at how some people think a tiny back-pack wont fit ("Just let me do it!") and then others swear that their 800 pound yak (Thanks Brian Regan) will fit just fine. It wont. Even though I tried to refrain from helping people with their stuff, there is always a little old lady or disabled passenger that needs help. I also still had to stow my own overnight bag a few times each trip. Or carry my bags up a few flights of stairs a few times a week. Dr says 25 pounds is about the limit and that was getting harder to enforce.
3-Long periods of standing. I could usually take my jump-seat for a spell, but it is ram-rod straight and uncomfortable. I could also sit on an atlas container (the metal cupboards that hold the sodas, we aren't supposed to sit on them) but it is pretty low to the ground. So we stand. A lot. and it's not the best.
4-Long, long, long days. This is the one that got me the most. An average day is anywhere from 9 to 12 hours. That doesn't include the time it takes to get to the airport (1 & 1/2 to 2 hours), airport shuttle & go through security (1/2 hour or less at a good airport), ride to or from the hotels (5 to 40 minutes each way) etc..etc... When flying locals an average day for me was 15 hours from the time I left my house to the time I got home. Ugh. Three day trips had shorter days, but it meant I had to pack a bigger bag, which means more weight, which means more lifting... See the problem?
5- Long days with no real breaks and no real opportunities for a healthy meal. Breaks are random and poorly spaced throughout the day. Packing food for three days is a pain in the neck. Keeping it cold without fridges for three days is also hard. Not having microwaves available at half of your hotels is also a drag. Packing a sandwich and a banana, but then wanting the freaking airport Burger King instead, is also sometimes a problem (for me at least.) And as it goes in the airline business, a two hour break can turn into one hour behind schedule due to weather or mechanical delays. So that lunch break you were looking forward to is now gone and any other breaks you might have had are now eaten up in trying to get back on schedule. We eat a lot of peanuts.

And there are other things too. Like being clumsier and dropping things a lot. The bad winter weather makes it easy to slip on the hard tarmac (as I found out repeatedly). Super awesome hormones make me a little less inclined to patiently listen to the lady in 8C explain why she needs to hold her cat throughout the flight, even though he isn't a service animal and the person next to her is allergic. And the same hormones make me a little less sweet when the umpteenth person says: "WOW. Should you be flying?!" Because my honest answer is "Probably not." But they get a fake smile and a: "You betcha! Now what would you like to drink?"

So last Monday I was dressed and packed for a two day trip. I was battling the blizzard from heck inch by inch, to make my way to work when I finally wondered "Why am I trying so hard to do this?" Clayton isn't making me, SkyWest isn't making me... so who...?" Ya- just me. So I called in, talked to my chief and started my leave. I couldn't enjoy it at first, but today has felt like the first real day of my break. And I plan to use it. I have mounds of sewing projects I want to finish, rooms that have been begging to be cleaned out, and a baby to try and keep healthy and safe. That should be enough for now.

I know I will still face the "demons" of The SuperWomen from time to time. We all know at least one. One annoying brag-hag who makes you feel vastly inferior and lame. You know, the ones who seem to work full time everyday till they deliver, all while going to school full time, raising three other children under three, serving as the Relief Society president, and still finding time to out-quilt Martha Stewart. Well good for them, but I will close this entry with my mother's favorite poem of all time, which is in line with my current train of thought.

"Song for a Fifth Child" by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton 1938

Mother, oh Mother, come shake out your cloth,

empty the dustpan, poison the moth,

hang out the washing and butter the bread,

sew on a button and make up a bed.

Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?

She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.

Oh, I've grown shiftless as Little Boy Blue

(lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).

Dishes are waiting and bills are past due

(pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).

The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew,

and out in the yard there's a hullabaloo

but I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo.

Look! Aren't her eyes the most wonderful hue?

(lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).

The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,

for Children grow up, as I've learned to my sorrow.

So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.

I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep......

The bozo in seat 1C and stealing from other people's other blogs

I had to work a three day trip this week. Ugh. Tired, sick of airport food, sick of airports and seriously pondering how some people can be so mean and or stupid. Most of my passengers are super awesome, but it only takes one doofus to ruin a flight. Well done 1C. You are my winner of the most annoying passenger of the week. I wont go into details, and most of it is smell related, but a quick list would include:
1-Taking off his shoes to make the whole forward cabin and galley smell like hot, foot-death.
2-Eating corn-nuts. I am sorry if you like these, but on a plane they smell like #1. Wee. Ya got me here? Shudder.
3-Wearing Patchouli. A lot of people do not know what this is. It is a hideous oil that hippies wear to cover the fact that they haven't showered. So it is usually the overwhelming stench of patchouli combined with BO. Super awesome. (PS:He was in a business suit.) If you are unfamiliar with it, go to a head shop or health store and ask if they have it, smell it, and then remember the times you have hated it before, but didn't know what it was. Dave Matthews concert, college dorms etc... PS. If you don't know what a head shop is, then good for you. It's where they sell bongs and other "tobacco" related items.
4- He kept "shushing" me and the other flight attendant if we started talking in the galley. Bugger off hoser! I am allowed to talk to someone for the freaking three hours I am stuck in the galley with no where to sit and nothing to do. People talk on planes. Deal with it. If you are so special as to afford first class, then buy those freaking headphones that cancel out the noise.
5-He had all the room in the world, yet every time I had to walk past him in the aisle he would hold his paper fully stretched out into the aisle so I had to beg him to let me pass, or just push right past it with all of my giantess-glory. Which is what I chose to do after the first two times of asking only to have him deeply sigh and make a production of angrily folding it all up. By the way- he was on the aisle seat with no one next to him. He could have just shifted to his right, but I imagine he was making a point.
6- He ordered a white wine, took a sip and then ask for a red instead. Later he ordered a coffee with three creams and two sugars, took a sip and said he had ordered it with no sugar. Whatev. When he ordered a scotch on the rocks, took a sip and then "decided" he wanted a whiskey instead I thought the other flight attendant was going to show him the door. Some people.

So that was more detailed than I meant it to be. Wow, this is why I don't usually talk about work at home. Too much irritation.

Now don't get me wrong, normally my job is awesome and I enjoy being there. It has it's hard days, and now that I am massive and uncomfortable all the time it gets harder each trip. I might have one or two more weeks in me, but we shall see.
The only upside of being gone for three days is that I come home with a new appreciation for my cozy house, want to snuggle with my husband and get to catch up on blogs and e-mail. Like cute Allison's. She wrote an awesome bit about her "grown-up Christmas list" like the one in the Amy Grant song. Here is the link.
http://michaelallisonhansen.blogspot.com/
It was inspiring. She made the point that her list isn't as "world peace" as Mz. Grant's. Maybe a bit more materialistic. However, when compared to mine it looks like hers was written by mother Theresa. Anyhow, here is my blatantly stolen Grown-Up Christmas List. Thanks Allison. Let's start with the far fetched and work our way down. I'll go with twelve for the twelve days of Christmas.

1-For my pregnancy to be a breezy total of three months of baby kicking and nothing else, followed by a brief and easy labor.
2-To have Martha Stewart come and arrange my kitchen pantry and cabinets. And while she's at it she can invite Mr. William Sonoma over to update my pots and pans.
3-Since we are playing make believe here, how about Sufjan Stevens hanging out in my living room playing Christmas songs during the day. At night I would like Johnny Mathis. On special occasions like Christmas Eve we can invite Josh Groban.
4-To enjoy holiday eating without feeling like I am awful, cruel mother who is giving my baby the shakes by over consumption of Cadbury chocolate balls.
5-To have the gumption and time to paint the whole dang place. This one I could conceivably handle I guess. I dream of clean, matching walls that don't show the signs of five years of bachelor living. It would just be a major pain to take down all of the frames and pictures and move furniture and stuff.
6-To know how to organize my spare rooms better. I have craft and sewing stuff in every room of this house. And I'd like to have a crystal ball to see if I will ever really need that tube of paint or yard of lace, instead of hanging onto every leftover from every project.
7-For our fish to die. That sounds awful, but let me explain. He is old. Like six years old. For a fish that is like 147. All his friends died this last year, and now I feel bad for him. The fish friend I miss the most is the wall sucker guy who kept the tank nice and clean. The filter isn't enough, and I dread cleaning the giant tank he now has all to himself. I can't flush him or even give him to my niece. (As that is the same as flushing him. Sorry Abby.) Do vets put down fish?
8-For the winter to stay nice and dry, except for the week of Christmas, but then back to dry. And for the temperature to hover around 40 degrees or higher. And for none of this to affect the water levels or drought conditions.
9-To be finished with my shopping. I am almost there, and I have had a blast this year. But I have one standout, frustrating, blank that is still bothering me. What do I get *****? (Bleeped out name, not dirty word. This person is not a dirty word.)
10-To be able to paint, sew, photograph, bake or write what I really imagine in my mind. Lately a lot of my results have been more than a bit disappointing. To have the time and patience to really try.
11-To not have missed the last three Oh Sweet Sadie shows. Durr. I haven't stopped dreaming about a pair of green shoes I saw there (four shows ago) and can't find them online.
12-To have everyone happy this Holiday. And I don't mean that in the pageant way. It just seems like a lot of people are having a harder than usual time lately and it's frustrating that I can't do a thing to fix any of it. No specifics, as they aren't my stories to share, but there is a definite trend of really sad things happening. I hope everyone can get through them to a shinier and better, greener grass, sun is shining side of things soon.

Ok, like Allison asked: What would be on your Grown-up Christmas List?

Pregnancy is a Magical Time...

...and don't get me wrong. I love it. I have been so blessed and we are so grateful for the chance to start our family. That said, let me tell you about some of the "perks".
1- New Magical IQ Level Hint: it didn't get bigger.
To start, it took me three tries to spell the word 'magical' in the title. I'm not the world's best speller, but lately I feel like I need a dictionary just to spell my name. A few weeks ago I couldn't tell Clayton the fourth President on Mt. Rushmore. And now I can't remember if I had forgotten Roosevelt or Jefferson. I also couldn't tell him the President on the dime. F.D.R. in case you are pregnant too. Clayton wasn't buying the pregnancy brain excuse. Little bits of knowledge that I normally feel secure in, suddenly escape me. It's beyond frustrating. I really hope this scatterbrain feeling goes away after delivery.
2-New Foxy Body Hint: it did get bigger.
I'm not naive about what pregnancy does to a body. I also realize I am the last person on earth (it seems) to experience this. However, it still comes as a shock every time I look in the mirror. I am not disgusted or upset, just a little startled and then I move on. It's bizarre. I wish I could put into words how strange it all is, but as we just learned in topic #1, I'm not the writer I used to be anymore. The only thing I am concerned about would be my belly button. It has gone from innie to flat, and is now on it's way to outie. Bugger. And I know why. Not because a little person is pushing it out from the inside, no. It's punishment. Karma. You see, when I was 14 I was at the mall with my sister Jennifer. We saw a lady who had to be in her 10th month walking around in a very tight and bizarre stretch, stirrup-pant, jumpsuit thing. It was bright teal green, so it caught your attention. Well, she had the most pronounced outie that I had ever seen. So of course I ogled in fascination and horror. I didn't point or laugh, but I doubt I was discreet. Well, the memory is still vivid. More so now because I realize that she probably was at the mall walking around to try and get her labor started. She was wearing the ridiculous outfit because it was the one piece of clothing that still fit. And she was probably extremely annoyed that this stick figure 14 year old girl wouldn't stop staring at her. So now I will have a ridiculous outie because my anorexic looking, idiot 14 year old self made it so.

3-The Fantastic Unsolicited Advice I Get Hint: let's review what unsolicited means.
Let's start with Doreen from work. I flew a trip with Doreen when I was about three months along. Then I flew with her a week ago. She was eager to hear what the gender was and so I told her. The words were barely out of my mouth when she said: "Oh, I could have just told you that you were having a girl. Because with a boy you only gain weight out front, and with a girl you gain a ton of weigh all over." She made a circling motion with her finger pointing at all of me as she said it. Hmmph.
I would say that 95% of all of my co-workers insist that I not quit my job. Not that I asked them. It's just the first thing they seem to want to tell a pregnant flight attendant. Apparently being a stay-at-home mom is now the equivalent of working as a stripper. You really have to defend your notions, only to have them still shake their head in confusion or pity. Don't get me wrong, I think a woman should be able to choose what path she wants in motherhood. And I know way too many awesome women who are single moms or need to work to help the family or just choose to for a million other reasons. But who would of thought that people were so against the old fashioned June Cleaver bit? I've taken to telling people that I will decide when the time comes. Which is true. Never say never right?
People have told me I am carrying high, others that I'm carrying low, but no one just comes up and says: "Wow, you are carrying just right!" It's usually passengers on my plane. They have lots to say to me. Most people are sweet and well-meaning, but a few ask pointed questions like:"How long DO they let you work for on this job?" That's not a bad question, and the answer is- not past 7 months or as long as you still feel ok. But it's the emphasis on the question that implies that I am a freak. Understood. There isn't that much room for me on the plane, and it is rapidly getting smaller.
I also had a guy say he wanted to ask me a huge favor. Ok I say, thinking he needs help with a connection or something. But then he surprises me with: "GET AN EPIDURAL." Apparently he had to suffer through his wife going through some tortuous three day natural thing. No problem strange man, I will take your advice. I am of the "modern medicine is my friend" mindset. Seriously, how bad was it for him that he feels the need to spread the good word on pain killers? Poor guy.
Even my cute mother-in-law had a bit that I hopefully can't use. I told her about the first time I felt the baby kick and she said to "mark her words, that six months from that day is the day I would deliver". She acknowledged that it is an old wives tale, but that it was true for each of her babies. Let's hope she felt extra early. Otherwise I will be delivering a month and a half past my due date.

I have many more things I could say about this. Clumsiness, exhaustion, moodiness, bad sleep, new freaky things I learn everyday that you should NEVER do when pregnant, but I just did etc... etc.. I could also talk about the amazing things that I've experienced. Extra patience (from others towards me, not the other way around) feeling the baby move all day, getting to buy baby clothes... but this is long enough for now. So I will just leave you with this treat.
I wish I could say this was my Halloween costume, but no. This is the maternity treasure that I get to wear to work from here on out. This picture isn't properly conveying the frumpiness. It is apparently made at the Yearning For Zion dress shop. (PS. That's the Warren Jeff's compound.)

Rarrr!

Chicago!

Hello! I had a 25 hour layover in Chicago so Clayton flew in to join me in exploring the city. We had a wonderful guide in Clayton's old friend Tosh. He has been living there for over 7 years and knew all the ins and outs. We took the train into town and met up with him at the Art Institute of Chicago. We had about a half hour before the museum opened so Tosh showed us the Millennium Park about a block away. They have some great public art pieces like this giant chrome jelly-bean. You can walk all the way under it, and take some crazy pictures.

Here is my self portrait of Clayton and I.

And here are Tosh and Clayton under the bean. It reminded me of James and the Giant Peach.
Here Clayton and I are in front of the Art Institute's bronze lions.
There are hundreds of notable works here that even the least knowledgeable person would know. Like American Gothic by Grant Wood.

Sadly an entire wing was closed for renovations so we didn't get to see a few key pieces that we were looking forward to. Like The Old Guitarist by Picasso. It is Clayton's favorite piece ever. Oh well, next time. Still there was plenty to enjoy. Like John Singer Sargent, one of my favorite artists. I thought I would take my four month tummy shot next to this one, but we didn't quite get it all in the shot. Um, ya- cuz' it's that big. Sure I'm kidding, but not really. I am getting bigger by the minute. I may just have to blog about my belly button alone... but I digress. Back to the art.

Nighthawks by Edward Hopper.

A Sunday on La Grande Jatte by Georges-Pierre Seurat. Can you believe he was only 26 when he painted this? Makes me feel like a slacker. Non-art fans may recognize it from Ferris Bueller's Day Off. Which is required watching for a trip to Chicago. As is Adventures in Babysitting. Oh wait, is that just me?
Downstairs they have an entire exhibit of about 60 miniature rooms. Like doll houses on acid. These were incredible! Every fabric was hand woven , every chair hand carved. They looked so real. Pictures don't do the least bit of justice, but I included two so you could see the scale next to Clayton's gigantic head. I'm kidding- his head is normal sized, I'm the one that can't find hats that fit.

They had ones done in every major historical style of decorating. Did I mention they were amazing?

After the museum we walked downtown a bit for lunch. We hit the Billy Goat Tavern, a Chicago staple. They serve great burgers. It's a famous place due to the the eccentric former owner Billy Sianis. He actually owned a goat and in 1945 bought seats for himself and his odd pet for the world series at Wrigley field. They denied entrance for the goat, and Mr. Sianis cursed the Cubs that they would never win a championship as long as he lived. And they never did.

After lunch we headed up to the Hancock Center. We decided to go to the top there instead of the Sears Tower as it is almost the same height, and Tosh knew a secret to get us up free. (Completely legal.) They views were astounding. If you are headed to Chicago it is totally worth it to make time in your schedule for this. Here are Tosh and Clayton.
Here is one of the views of Lake Michigan. Note the sand at the bottom of the picture.
Well here we are on that very sand! A beautiful little beach in downtown Chicago. It is such an amazing city. After the Hancock Center we walked along the lake to the Navy Pier.

Here are Tosh and Clayton enjoying the view at the end of the pier.

We took a Ferris Wheel ride on the pier to rest our legs and enjoy the views.
Here I am next to the elevated train (the El). It is loud.
And here are Clayton and his tired, pregnant wife in front of the Sears Tower (sort of). We did it all in about seven hours and I still had to work my flight home that night. We walked our legs off- like we do in any city we are trying to conquer in one day. It's worth it for the experiences, but oh, we hurt today. A million thanks to Tosh for his expertise. We had a great time!
And here is the Sears Tower from the ground. It's a bit tall. You can't even see the top from this angle. We loved Chicago. It's like New York with a Seattle twist. Of course we had the most beautiful fall weather ever. I've heard the winters can bite, so maybe we will have to try it out then to get the whole feel.