Snakes on a Plane?

No.

Baby on a Plane?

Yes!

I flew to the bay area on Friday for my step-grandmother's funeral. Nos couldn't come with me - no sense both of us taking the day off work - so I brought Rev on my own. We flew last month to visit my dad in Tahoe, so I was pretty confident that Rev and I would do just fine. Despite the gal's uncanny timing of filling her diaper moments before boarding and about 15 minutes before landing, it wasn't too bad.

There were many, many offers of help, and not a little assvice. The lady sitting two rows in front of me, while Rev was whining out of hunger during the beginning of our descent, said "Did you bring a pacifier? The pressure changes hurt their ears, and sucking on something helps." Yeesh. Thanks. As if I hadn't heard that one before! Although, here's a tip of my own: Do NOT open a sealed can of formula in mid-flight unless you want yourself and everyone within a 10-foot radius coated in a film of powder. Heh... Oops. That whole pressure thing, ya know?

The service was nice, and I saw cousins I hadn't seen in a decade. Dan was 10 last time I saw him, and now: Hi! Cute! Don't worry, we're not actually related. They're my step-dad's neices and nephews. I also got to see my old elementary school and neighborhood. We moved up here to Oregon when I was 12, so it was interesting to see how much bigger everything used to look. Seeing my childhood haunts from an adult perspective was kind of sad, because my memories were often brighter and cleaner than the reality.

Rev was pretty cranky in the airport on the way home, and the line for Southwest was HUGE. Since I was flying with a lap child, I couldn't use the express line. The only way to balance the carseat on top of the bag I was checking was to hold the bag at an angle. Rev was riding in her front pack, and I was totally the crazy-eyed lady bouncing up and down in the line while progressively tilting towards my bag as my back knotted up. As though to make up for the uncomfortable wait, security was a breeze, and I got to sit down about 1/2 hour before boarding.

A semi-cute man in his early 30s, dressed for a day cruising on a speedboat, sat across from us in the waiting room. He seemed normal enough until he leaned backwards, hat pulled down over his face, basically putting his head on the shoulder of the guy back-to-back with him, and giggled to himself. At this point, I looked at him with more interest. The guy behind him glared, and the giggler returned to an upright position, still huh, huh, huh-ing. A few minutes later, he turned to read the magazine belonging to the guy behind his other shoulder. You could see the reader was totally uncomfortable with a stranger breathing down his neck. Giggler mumbled something to the reader, but got no answer, and finally turned back to the front.

By this time, I'm convinced he's drunk, because he's too well-dressed to be mentally ill. His next victim was the lady sitting to his left. She was reading the real estate section of the paper, and Drunkard started up a conversation with her as well. Literally one out of every three words was actually comprehensible. There was a lot of uncomfortable smiling and nodding from her, and finally she just ignored him. Out of targets, he next focused on Rev. "Awesome," he said, making faces at her. I studiously looked the other direction, and turned Rev around so she was facing me. He continued to look at us with kind of a creepy look in his eye. Rather than continue to sit there, I decided to head on over to the pre-board area. As I stood, gathering up our belongings, he mumbled something containing the words, "...sexy little thing, aren't you...?"

That was it for me, thank you! I don't know if he was talking to me or to the baby, but it was awful either way. All I could picture was the Drunkard getting on the plane and sitting next to me, or anyone, for that matter. Clearly, he was not in his right mind. I let the ticketing agent at our gate know that he was acting a little funny, and they went over to talk to him. He was escorted out of the area just a few moments into their conversation. Hopefully they let him sober up and get on the next flight a couple of hours later.

Now that I'm back at work, I've been doing a lot more driving. My commute pre-Rev was about 15 minutes each way with no traffic, and about 30 each way on a normal day. We moved when Rev was about a month old, and added about 10mins of street driving to the highway driving I was already doing. On the days Nos takes Rev to our local daycare provider, my drive is about 30 miles round-trip. On the days I take her to grandma's, it's 50! I have to do a big V. Ugh. I think my weekly commute is about 8 hours. That's a LOT!

Maybe because I'm on the road so much, I find I'm really irritated by other drivers...

Top 5 irritating things drivers do:

1. Not understand that merging lanes are like zippers: first one side goes, then the other. As opposed to the YIELD sign, where they better well wait for a big ol' open space.
2. Sit so close in the blind spot of your vehicle that you can't tell if they'll let you in or not when you are attempting to change lanes.
3. Turn into traffic on a main road causing the person now behind them them to slow down, especially when there is a big huge break behind the person they've forced to slow down.
4. Drive 10 miles under the speed limit on a road timed so that you hit the green lights if and only if you're doing the posted speed. By going too slow, every light is a red light.
5. Not signal when turning. Conversely, signalling when not turning.

Other strange driving things seen while driving this week:

• A bunch of sweaty landscaping guys shouting at me through their open windows on a traffic jammed highway. I wonder if the ring and the fact that I have a baby in the backseat would have put them off?
• A car stopped at a red light at a major intersection, then treated it like a stop sign and went straight on through. Um, buddy? That red light wasn't blinking.
• During the turning lane green light cycle at yet another major intersection, a car went straight against his red light. And almost into me! Luckily the baby wasn't in the car, or I would have had a heart attack.
• I've always noticed that a home on the way to work has a semicircular green patch in the lawn while the rest is brown. A chair sits in the center of the patch. Last time I passed it, a little old lady was sitting in the chair watering her lawn. But only in a 180 degree arc in front of her chair. I guess that explains that.

I work the occasional weekend night at a local pub in addition to my 8-5. Last night was one of those. I must be insane - what person in their right mind works an extra night right after her first full week back at work? Obviously, I wasn't feeling much like working, but we're so broke, I went for it anyway. Nos had gone out to a friend's house party at around 6, and he was under instructions to return by 8:30, so I could start my shift at 9. Of course, he got back closer to 8:45, and was clearly a little buzzed.

It was dead as a doornail in the pub, and the idea was that I would get off early. I thought this was pretty fantastic, and planned on sticking around the pub for a few hours after my shift to read the paper, have a beer or two, and chat with the few regulars I actually like. Nos and the baby would be fine at home, right? She's been going to bed around 10pm, so I figured he'd just stay home and watch TV. Wrong! I called him to let him know the deal, and that I planned on being home at 12:30 or 1am. His response? "Oh, you should come back up to the party with me."

He had my baby. In his car. While he was a bit tipsy. On the way to a PARTY?!?!?

What the hell?

This party had been described to me earlier on in the day as a bonfire in the middle of a field. His plan was to leave Rev in the car next to the bonfire so he could sit and drink with his buddies, checking in on her occasionally. Now, I think we're all picturing the same thing here. Drunk people, cigarettes, pallets being flung on a raging fire, puking and pissing in darkened corners... Man, I was pissed! However, I hung up the phone somewhat lamely, and went to go get a second opinion from my coworkers. Maybe I was overreacting?

Nope. Their responses were even more horrified than my own. Nos had told me there were other young children there in an attempt to soothe my fears, but when asked how old they were, he replied, "Oh, I don't know... Walking age?" Our child is 13 weeks old, not one or two years old! Big difference!

I had that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, and was well on my way to a full-fledged anxiety attack. My coworkers told me to go ahead and get out of there to rescue the kiddo. I called Nos for directions, and could practically see him rolling his eyes at my fears. A dark, 1/2 hour-long car ride later, I arrived at my destination, which was at the top of a mountain road, full of hairpin turns. Not the kind of road you want to be on in the dark, never mind with a couple of drinks in you. I got out of the car and walked towards the party.

Heh.

The field? Was a big yard.

The bonfire? Was a small, cinderblock lined affair.

The party? Was about 10 people, including 5 kids under the age of 4.

Oops. So maybe I overreacted a little after all. Nos and I had a little chat about describing things accurately.

We ended up staying for several hours, eating skewers and chatting while listening to country music. Rev slept in her carseat nearby, and didn't make a peep the entire evening. Nos got pretty toasted, and I drove us home in the wee hours. We just went and picked up his car a few minutes ago.

That whole drinking and driving thing is still unresolved, but he insists he only had a couple of beers at the party his first time there in the afternoon. Still, I wonder if he would even have told me he was taking the baby back up there if I'd worked until 3:30am as scheduled. And would he really have only had one more beer, as he swears would have been the case had I not been there to drive?

With Rev around, I find myself wondering so much more about the what ifs... I can't bear to imagine anything bad happening to her.

Rev rolled all the way over last night for me. Mom sent an email on the 8th while I was at work to let me know I'd missed my first major milestone.

*sniffle*

I must admit I've been placing her on the floor at every opportunity, hoping to see a repeat, and I finally got the payoff yesterday. Nos wanted to get it on camera, but then, he wants to get everything on camera. And then he makes everyone watch the unedited footage. Aarg! I'll have to learn how to edit on the computer one of these days.

Other Rev news:

• We get smiles and coos all the time now.
• The girl just wants to sit up. When she is laying back against our legs, she positively strains her body upright. With a little help, she sits as long as we stabilize her torso.
• Bedtime is finally settled into a routine. At 10pm, she'll sleep! All. The. Way. Until. 6am. Of course, she's sleeping in her swing... I know, I know - bad mommy! She simply won't relax enough to go to sleep on her back. It's either in bed with us, curled up against my side, or it's the swing. Now that I'm back at work, I need more sleep, and I just don't sleep soundly while she's in bed. The goal is to work on crib sleeping during the weekend.
• She's in that funny in-between stage between size 1 & 2 diapers. 1 isn't quite big enough, so we get blowouts up her back, and 2 has too-big leg holes, so we get spill-over there. Hopefully she grows a little more quickly!

Squee!

Cutest baby ever. And she's mine. Nyah!

Mom sent this pic, taken just moments ago, to me at work. I'm so jealous, because Rev's best moods are in the morning and early afternoons. By the time I get my hands on her in the evening, she can be pretty cranky.

Something like this:

That's still pretty cute though. She looks like she's studying for the baby SATs. She also acquires this look while watching TV, particularly shows like BB7 and Project Runway. Should I worry?

One other tidbit from this weekend...
Nos is a stealth pooper. I was beginning to wonder if the guy even farted.
I'm happy to report that he totally stank the whole house up, to the point where we had to open the windows and bring out the air freshener. Does this mean we've reached a new level of intimacy?

Everything is back on an even keel at home. We had an excellent weekend. I think working again is going to make me treasure family/down time so much more.
Friday night we conked out early, and I had a BBQ with some kids from my high school class on Saturday. Jessica found me on myspace, and it was interesting to see what people have done with themselves for the last seven years. I am happy to report that even though I'm only 3-months post-pregnancy, my butt was not the prize winner for "Most Expanded." Not to say I was the best-looking one there either!
Nos & baby Rev came with me, and it was pretty surreal to see people I've known since I was 12 playing with her. Not one of the other folks were married, and most were just finishing up school. I guess I have been a busy gal.
Is it evil of me to sometimes be embarrassed of Nos? I went to school in a pretty snooty suburb, and he's a country boy. I love him, and if I do, people should tend to like him as well, I'd think... but man, the boy has a dirty mouth. I swear, he drops an F-bomb in almost every sentence when he's talking to his buddies, but I'm proud to report I heard nary a one at the BBQ.
Nos went out with his brother and sister-in-law later that night to celebrate his brother's birthday. I stayed home with Rev, and picked them up from the bar at around 1am.
Saturday was a busy day too! We went out to breakfast and then stopped by the pub I work at occasionally. It was lovely to sit out on the patio and have a beer. At the last minute, we decided to go to downtown Portland with Nos's brother's family. We played in the fountain by Keller Auditorium, and then caught the MAX train to Saturday Market. Too bad that the market was closing down by the time we got there. Oops! I fed Rev in the car, and Nos took her home while I caught up with one of my old roomies. Al was hanging out at CC Slaughters, a gay bar, and yikes! There was naughty man-porn playing, so I was a little uncomfortable. The Anna Nicole Smith drag-queen look-alike made up for it though. As did the game of Nuns and Vicars bingo.
I ended up drinking more than I'd planned on, and we had to give poor Rev a bottle of frozen breastmilk. Yesterday morning was pretty ugly too! I never realized how much I'd miss aspirin, since I'm not allowed to have it while bfing.

Hot & Cold

If you'd have asked me this morning, I would have said that my husband (let's call him Nos) and I were fairly happy. I mean, there is definitely stuff we're still working out. After all, we've only known each other for just over a year, and we've gone through a pregnancy and had a baby already. In a broad, overarching category, I'd say that the main issue is that he's still playing like he's a bachelor. He's never home when he says he will be, and then when I react with anger, somehow it's my fault. And that's not even including my ire at the drinking and *ahem* other extracirricular activities he may be engaging in.

Ezza: "Hi, just wondering when you'll be home."

Nos: "Well, I'm just helping [insert random friend] in his project to [insert random man-project verb here, ie. weld, install, paint] and I'll be home at [insert fairly reasonable hour.]"

Now this, I can live with... Never mind that he usually goes straight from work to said project, and doesn't even let me know. Sometimes the man gets off work at 3pm, and here I am, waiting until 7 to call him thinking he's working late, when really, he's drinking with the boys. And I've been sitting at home. With a baby. Who demands to be held all the time. Hence, I smell bad because I haven't showered, and I'm desperately hungry. This combination equals very cranky Ezza.

Ezza: "So... what's the plan?"

Nos: "Oh, well, we didn't have the tools we needed, so we went all over town trying to find them, and then we decided to make our project 10x bigger than it had to be, and then I decided to take my [insert moving vehicle] apart."

Ezza: "Um... "I'd kinda like a shower, and I'm going nuts from being with the kiddo by myself all day."

Nos: "Then take a shower."

Ezza: "The baby's been awake all day."

Nos: "Just let her cry."

Ezza: "I can't do that! So, um, when are you going to be home?"

And so on... Generally, by the time we're done with this run-around, it's 9 or 10pm, and he'll come home a bit buzzed, ask what's for dinner, and then get mad that when the baby finally does go to sleep, I don't want to put out.
Dude, I just want a shower and a meal and a nap at that point, and a roll in the hay just doesn't sound like fun, especially because I'm pissed off. So then he's pissed off, and pulls out (heh!) the "You don't love me" card. This cycle just causes resentment on my part and makes sex feel like a chore, which means I don't want to do it again later, when a valid opportunity does present itself.
I've explained to him several times why I'm frustrated when he doesn't at least let me know what he's doing or come home on time, and his answer to my irritation is that I should have called and just told him to come home. Um, hello? I am not his mother. Really, should I need to tell him it's past his bedtime?
So I've continually been getting just a teeny bit unhappier every day that I sit in the house alone, and when I finally have engaged in a melt down, he buys me flowers and a nice card and tells me he loves me. And then he does the same darn thing that he's always done just a day or two later. *sigh*
Let me illustrate another confusing turn of events.

Text message (note the man can't spell)
9:20 am
I love you so much thanks for being here for me and tring to make me a better person. kiss kiss

Keep in mind my phone was in the car, so I didn''t see this message until much later on. I talked to him on the phone at around 10am, to tell him about the bbq we're invited to this weekend. I knew that his brother wanted to do something for his birthday the same night, so wanted to check the timing. Nos thinks my mother (who is graciously providing daycare on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday of every week since I came back to work yesterday) will babysit the baby overnight Saturday.

Hahahahah.

My mother was just out of town for two weeks settling the estate of my recently deceased step-grandmother, so besides being stressed out and adjusting to being a daycare, she hasn't had time to do any work of her own. Nos got all quiet and cranky at this news, and quickly ended our conversation.

Text message (again with the spelling!)
11:07am
I'm not sure what we're doing wrong but ezza i think were heading towards devorce. what do you think?

I'm at a loss. I really don't feel like he's changed his life around at all, and that I've made all the sacrifices here. My friends are all gone since I'm not partying anymore, and he's living life like he always has. He acts like it's a big hassle when I need him to help with the baby, and I don't feel like I can leave her alone with him, since he'll leave her to cry in her crib while he goes out to the garage to have a cigarette. Don't get me started on the cigarettes.

You know, I didn't realize how mad I really am about this stuff until I wrote it down. Now how do I fix it?

If the last year was a crazy one, my reward was a beautiful daughter.
Today is my first day back at work, and I miss her already.

It has been almost a full year since I last posted.
I think it's been so long because when I was first fascinated by blogging, I was reading mostly teenage-angst filled stream-of-consciousness type stuff. There was really nothing in my life that inspired me to make the effort to share. Everything felt rather self-important.
When I discovered I was pregnant, I looked to blogs as a means of learning what was in store for me. I found Miss Zoot last September, soon after I discovered my pregnancy, and fell in love (don't worry, Zoot, it's not stalkerish, I swear). Through her, and the ladies in her blogroll that captured my attention, I feel connected to a community. This is a one-sided connection, however, because none of them even know I exist. I must admit, I'm jealous of the stories I've read about last weekend's BlogHer, and these women from different communities and backgrounds meeting their virtual sisters. In part, the motivation for reactivating this blog is that maybe I'll get invited next year, darnit!
There really is only one way to make a connection, and that is by revealing myself.
SO HERE I AM.