Two Years of Miracles and Dreams Come True

"I was waiting for so long/For a miracle to come/Everyone told me to be strong/Hold on and don't shed a tear.

Through the darkness and good times/I knew I'd make it through/And the world thought I had it all/But I was waiting for you..."

--From A New Day Has Come by Celine Dion

Two years ago today...I met an angel God sent to me. She saved my life.

Glam-O-Mommy meets daughter

Ready to go home--third day

First moments at home

8 lbs 6 oz, 21 inches long

When I look at her, I believe miracles can happen. Dreams can come true.

One month old

Seven months old

One year old

Thank you, God, for answering my prayer.

Two years old, 30 lbs 8 oz, 37.25 inches long

Happy birthday, Big Girl. Mommy loves you SO much!

Cowgirl cutie, ready for her big party

This Blog Absence Brought to You by Twilight

I was on a really good blogging roll during the month of July, and then, almost three weeks ago, I discovered the Twilight phenomenon.

Now, I haven't been living under a rock. The first movie came out while I was on maternity leave, so I heard about it, but was a scooch more focused on my DARLING, ADORABLE BABY to go to a movie or read a book. Since then, obviously, I've heard all about the movies and the books when New Moon came out and then again just six weeks ago, when Eclipse premiered.

And still...very little interest in seeing the movies or reading the books. Kind of thought people were a little crazy for being obsessed with it. Not sure why...Robert Pattinson and Taylor Lautner are hot and I like Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but really did not care for Interview with a Vampire, and I think I mistakenly thought it would be more Rice-like than Scooby Gang.

And then, on a random Sunday night, with nothing on TV, I happened upon the movie on Showtime. I watched the last half and thought, hmm...interesting. My husband was out of town for the week, and TV was a wasteland, so when I saw it was on again the next night (gotta love Showtime), I DVR'd it and watched it after my daughter went to bed.

And that was it...I was obsessed. Crazy.

The following night I rented New Moon. And then I watched Twilight again Wednesday and Thursday night. When my husband came home Friday night, I was like, hey--good to see you! I'm going to see a 10:20 showing of Eclipse! Watch the baby for me!

And then I bought all four of the books and read them in about six days. I'm a fast reader, but even so, my husband was impressed...and probably a little perplexed with why his wife was all of a sudden obsessed with vampires and wolves LOL.

And then I bought the Twilight soundtrack and put it in heavy rotation on my iPod.

Note to other parents: The slow or instrumental songs on this soundtrack do an excellent job of lulling toddlers to sleep in the car.

More Twilight watching, ANOTHER rental of New Moon ensued this week, and I'm plotting to go see Eclipse again this weekend. Somebody help me.

In fairness, my Twilight obsession is not the ONLY thing that has kept me from blogging. I'm smack dab in the middle of two MAJOR projects at work that are causing me to want to tear my perfectly highlighted hair right out of my head and making me work some extra hours. I'm also in the final stages of party planning for my daughter's second birthday extravaganza next weekend, trying to figure out where to take her for two-year portraits now that my favorite studio has closed, shopping for our upcoming Jamaica vacation, and still carrying a bit of the parental load, although my husband is slowly doing better on the recovery front.

BUT...Twilight is probably the biggest factor in my lack of blogging, since I've mostly watched and re-watched it after my daughter goes to bed, which is usually when I blog. :) I'll try to be better, if I can resist temptation...

And for the record...TEAM EDWARD all the way!

Margaritas by 9 a.m.

You know your day is not going well when you feel like downing a couple of margaritas by 9 a.m. in the morning. Especially when you can't remember the last time you had a margarita or alcohol of any kind.

My day started with a jolt as I accidentally turned my alarm off instead of hitting the snooze. I woke up an hour later, knowing I had no hope of getting my daughter to school in time to eat her school breakfast. What is key here is that her school breakfast is her SECOND breakfast of the day...she has milk and a handful of Cheerios when she gets up at home, then, within an hour, she has a second breakfast at school...usually something like milk, a muffin, and a big slice of honeydew melon. She cannot miss the school breakfast. Or any other meal. EVER.

She's not a picky eater, my kid. I am, extremely, so I'm constantly amazed I created this little person who has yet to dislike any food I put in front of her. I feed her all kinds of healthy fruits and veggies and stuff that I don't actually eat myself and she LOVES it. So I try to ensure she always gets to school in time to have the school breakfast. She does not like to miss a meal!

So as I rushed around trying to get ready, I gave her a banana in addition to her regular breakfast since we were going to miss the school breakfast. She scarfed it in less than a minute and wanted more, so I gave her a second banana, which she also polished off quickly, and then I gave her a little extra milk. BREAKFAST ACCOMPLISHED.

Finally ready myself, I thought it would take me my normal 10 minutes to get her ready. Forty-five minutes later, sweaty and defeated, we finally left for school.

The minute I tried to get her dressed, she threw one of the biggest fits I've ever seen. She cried. She crawled away as I tried to change her diaper. She refused all my attempts to put her pants on. I took a break and gave her a minute to calm down, then tried again. More flailing and crying on the floor. Then, I tried my "I'm going to have to leave without you" trick, wherein I say, sadly, "Oh well. If you're not going to get dressed, Mommy's going to have to go ahead and go without you." Then, I take my purse, her bag, my lunch, and other assorted crap to the car, and by the time I'm back in less than a minute, she is usually eager to go with me and very compliant as I dress her. Not today! More wailing and flailing about on the floor ensued. At this point, I began talking directly to and trying to make deals with God. Seriously.

Finally, I wrestled her into her clothes and then put her socks on. She cried and tried to take them back off as if she were in pain from the socks, so totally defeated at this point, I took them back off. Then, she immediately got hysterical, crying, "Socks! Socks!" and put her feet out for me to PUT THE SAME SOCKS BACK ON. So I did. Then I put her shoes on and gave her a paci. And she finally calmed down. (Should've used the paci earlier, but I try to only let her have it in her crib and nowhere else.) Finally calm (both of us), but sweaty and frazzled (me), I  took her out to the car. Where she promptly flailed a little as I was going to put her in the car and hit her head on the corner of the car door. And then more wailing ensued. I'm sure my neighbors think I'm an awesome mom.

The 15-minute drive to her school was oddly silent. Neither of us happily sang along to the Laurie Berkner Band as we do most mornings.We were both kind of exhausted and defeated. At school, I hugged her and told her I was sorry for not handling her hysterics well and I was sure she was sorry she didn't just get dressed protest-free as she does most days. I felt it was important for both of us to own our mistakes. I then drove the few blocks to my office, went into my office, and sat down at my desk, totally deflated.

And desperately craving a couple of frosty margaritas. Like, seriously wondering, do they sell margaritas at 9 a.m.? This is San Antonio, home of the best margaritas in the world...surely someone is selling them at this time of the morning?! I'll just say I'm going on a Starbucks run and go hit a bar. I'm obviously not doing well as a mother. I need a drink!

Then, the crap started rolling in at work and I let my mommy guilt go and tried to deal with the work in front of me and get through the day.

At the end of the day, I started thinking about my poor daughter though. She is a child that lives and dies by routine. Not a schedule...just a routine. Like, if I say let's go take a bath, no matter what time of day the bath happens, she has to go get her towel first, then get in the tub, then when she gets out she tells the water goodbye, then she runs naked to her table and puts her arms up for me to pick her up and dress her. Every time. She thrives on routine.

And in the last month, her routine has been off. Way off. First, she spent three days with my parents while my husband was in the hospital. Then, my husband, a super hands-on Daddy, suddenly can't do all the many things he normally does with her and she doesn't understand why. Mommy is doing everything, including all the school runs to and fro. Nana is coming over two nights a week to handle her dinner, bath, and bedtime so Mommy can go to a class and Daddy still can't do those things. This week, Daddy is out of town at a training course, and she doesn't understand where he is. Her life's been kind of turned upside down a bit and the only thing she can do is refuse to go potty on the potty (total regression in potty training since my husband's surgery) and throw a crying fit because she doesn't know why Daddy's not there in the morning to help her get dressed or take her to school.

That's how an almost-two-year-old copes with stress. Her 37-year-old mother just craves margaritas at inappropriate times of the day.

I'm 37, But I Don't Want to Be an Older Mommy

I'm 37.

I turned this age over two months ago, but I find myself thinking about it a lot lately, especially as I am reading other people's blogs. I'm fairly sure the majority of bloggers I read are in their late 20s/early 30s, and many of them are moms of small children. And in my head, I totally think of them as my peers, but then they sometimes make a comment that tips me off to the fact that they are younger than me. And it's a little depressing, because I am also a mom of a small child, but I am an OLDER MOMMY.

Here's the thing... my mom had me when she was 24. When she was 37, she was having a full hysterectomy and I was 13, in junior high, angsting over whether any boys would ever grow taller than me, and listening to Tears for Fears and Heart.

Now, I'm 37, possibly peri-menopausal (why the heck else am I so darn HOT all the time? I used to be a cold person!), with an almost two-year-old, who is in day school, ignoring boys, and listening to Elmo and the Laurie Berkner Band.

I don't want to be an OLDER MOMMY. I still feel like a cool, vibrant young person most of the time--I stay up with the latest technology and movies and pop culture and all that. I tweet, FB, text, etc. I watch Glee and listen to Lady Gaga and Katy Perry. I know who Justin Bieber is. Granted, I'm just now catching up on the Twilight movies, but in my defense, the first movie came out the year I gave birth. I was kind of busy then and have been ever since. But I am trying to catch up on all of that because I don't want to be an OLDER MOMMY not with the times like the woman I'll call Mrs. S.

When I was 11, about sixth grade I guess, I had three close friends: K, J, and R. My mother was 35 at the time, as was K's mom. J's mom was only about 30, possibly a little younger, as she had her as a teenager. R's mom, Mrs. S, was 45. She was an OLDER MOMMY.

My mom and most of my friends' moms let us watch MTV* and knew all the latest bands and singers we liked--Hall and Oates, Huey Lewis and the News, Michael Jackson, Duran Duran, etc. Mrs. S never let R watch MTV or popular movies or anything like that. She didn't let R watch the premiere of Michael Jackson's Thriller video! Only the biggest cultural phenomenon of our time, the Thriller video, and she was not allowed to see it! Her mom just didn't understand any of that stuff.

*Note to younger readers: Back in 1983-84 when this story takes place, MTV actually played music videos 24-7. Seriously. IT. WAS. AWESOME. None of this Snooki-Jersey Shore crap.

So anyway, we always felt really sorry for R because her mom seemed so much older than our moms, and so out of touch with the times. And as I do the math, when my own daughter turns 11, I am going to be 46. One year older than Mrs. S was at the time--EEK!

I don't want to be like Mrs. S, an OLDER MOMMY! I mean, 40's the new 30, right? Look at the Sex and the City gals! I want to be tuned in to the latest trends and music...not in a way that will embarrass my kid or anything (I mean, Madonna's rocking and still awesome in her 50s, but I kind of think she should give up the leotards, you know? And cover up her arms--they kind of freak me out!), just in a way that she can relate to me and will think I'm a pretty cool Mommy when I'm picking her up from school with all the 20- and 30-something moms of her classmates LOL.

I kind of hope that tattoos and body piercings (other than ears) are out of fashion by the time my daughter is older, because if she wants those, I really will sound like an OLDER MOMMY. I can't help it--it was instilled in me by my proper Southern mother that nice girls just don't do those things LOL. The one time my mother seemed like an OLDER MOMMY to me was when I wanted to get one (ONE!) extra hole pierced in one of my ears (whichever one was the cool ear to do so, I can't remember now). She balked at this initially, but finally relented on the condition that I get one extra hole in BOTH ears, so as not to look lopsided or asymetrical, which kind of defeated the whole purpose. (Seriously. I am not making this up!)

So to my Future Tween and Teenage Daughter, I make this promise: I will try hard to be young at heart and up with the times so that you want to talk to me and share your world with me, but not so into it that I embarrass you. I will let you watch the cool cultural phenomenon-type events as they occur and take you to concerts by your favorite bands.

I only ask two things of you in return: (1) Please stay my little girl as long as you can--you have the rest of your life to be a grown-up, and (2) Please only pierce your ears and don't get any tattoos. Please. For me and for my mother, your Nana. OK? :)

Winning an Award and Making Friends Through Blogs: Very Glam

The very fun and entertaining Kimberly over at  The Stinker Pinkers bestowed my first-ever blog award on me: The Versatile Blogger Award!

Thank you so much Kimberly! I like to think I won this award because I write insightful, thought-provoking prose on motherhood; however, Kimberly says it's because I make her laugh, which is cool too! Motherhood, especially in its least glamorous moments, is often entertaining. And I used to think about going into standup comedy because I like to tell funny stories, so that is a wonderful compliment to make someone laugh!

I hope I get this right...apparently to accept this award, I have to share seven things about myself and then pass the award on to 15 other blogs. So here we go!

1. I am a total grammar/punctuation nerd/snob. This serves me well on the job since I am an editor and a writer. It doesn't mean I get things 100 percent perfect on my blog or Twitter because I tend to be more casual or hit publish too quickly LOL. But it does mean if I see grammar/punctuation mistakes on billboards, ads, FB posts, blogs, etc., I do judge them. Just a teeny tiny bit. If it's a person, I still like them. I just can't help myself!

2. I was Valentine Queen in my second- and third-grade classes in Arkansas (where we lived at that time), elected by my classmates. For this, I got a paper crown with glitter on it--my first two tiaras! I also got some boy drama in second grade as the boy I liked was not elected Valentine King and the boy who was the King gave me a white carnation-my first flower. Petty jealousy and melodrama between the two boys ensued. Good times.

3. That boy...the one I liked who was not elected Valentine King? He and I reconnected on FB a few months ago (we haven't seen each other since I moved to Nebraska in 4th grade). He's engaged to be married and his wedding date is my wedding anniversary--September 25th. How weird is that?!

4. My parents were high school sweethearts who started dating at 15 (Mom) and 16 (Dad), They celebrate their 41st wedding anniversary this month, although they've been together 46 years!!

5. I have a weird obsession with Mt. Everest. I don't like heights and I would never rock climb or scale a mountain EVER, but I'm fascinated by the people who try to climb Mt. Everest. I've read Into Thin Air by Jon Krakauer and I watched that reality show about people trying to climb Everest. I think those people are IN-SANE, but I can't look away. My husband thinks this means I secretly want to try and climb Everest, but I really don't!!

6. Regular Coke (or Co-Coler as my grandma used to say) is my number-one vice. I would drink it at every meal and throughout the day if I could (in college, I did!). I try to limit myself to only one or two a day now, but it's hard.

7. I didn't breastfeed my daughter. At all. I didn't even try. Scandalous! (Pause for shocked gasps!) I know. Go ahead and judge me a little if you want to. Come on--you know you do! I can take it. (OK, not really--please be nice!) It was my choice, for a variety of reasons, most personal, one medical in nature, and I don't regret it or feel that I missed out on something at all. My daughter's healthy and happy and it was the right decision for me and my family.

And The Versatile Blogger Award Goes to...

What I've found to be amazing as I started blogging and getting to know other blogs/bloggers a few months ago is how very different so many of the people whose blogs I read are from me and how I enjoy getting a little window into their lives through their blogs. I'd love to have a long, chatty dinner with these folks, so now, I'd like to bestow this award on the following blogs/bloggers:

1. the state that I am in Just in the short time I've been reading her blog and corresponding with her, I feel that Erin is a little bit of a kindred soul as we share similar feelings about our bouts of infertility. I look forward to following her journey into motherhood when her twins are born!

2. The Life and Times of a Self-Proclaimed Saucy Bitch First of all, that is one of the best blog titles ever, plus she wrote a post on "vajazzling" the other night that was laugh out loud funny! You're awesome Saucy B!

3. St. Monica's Bridge Kristen is the first person who ever commented on my blog and as I've been reading her blog, I'm in awe of her faith and her willingness to share her thoughts on controversial topics such as childhood vaccines. She is incredibly thoughtful in her posts and I always look forward to reading her perspective, even when it differs from my own. 

4.  Mighty Maggie I discovered Mighty Maggie through parenting.com and started reading her personal blog months before I started my own. I really look forward to reading her blog as she always makes me laugh! She, of course, has no idea who I am LOL.

5. Absolutely Narcissism  I hesitate to give this award to Sandra as her ego is big enough already LOL, but she is always an entertaining read! And she's Canadian, and I have a well-known soft spot for Canadians!

6. The Stinker Pinkers I know Kimberly just won this award and gave it to me, but I really enjoy her blog. She makes ME laugh and makes me think about new ideas, like living in a small space. She made me think about it. I decided it wasn't for me, but I thought about it LOL! 

7. Du Wax Loolu I don't remember how I originally came across Jess' blog. I do remember I was like, "Du Wax what?" That's a pretty memorable blog name. I enjoy reading her blog...her recent in-law travails were particularly funny, but she is often thoughtful and interesting as well. She probably thinks I am a blog stalker or something since I recently posted a comment on her blog and it showed up nine times for some reason. I'm not a stalker, I promise!

8. Confessions from a Working Mom I came upon this blog fairly recently, attracted by the title as I am also a working mom. She recently wrote a post about maybe only having just the one child which resonated with me. I like her. I'm going to keep reading her.

9. Baby Making Machine Jennifer is another blogger I discovered through parenting.com. I enjoyed following the end of her pregnancy and am getting a big chuckle out of her now that she is in that I'm-so-in-love-with-my-baby and paranoid-new-mother phase.  

And here's a slight problem folks...I don't really read a bazillion blogs, so I don't really have six more I'm ready to bestow this award on just yet. Do I get to keep my award, or is this failure to list award-winning blogs 10-15 akin to pulling a Milli Vanilli and having to give my Grammy back to the Academy?

What do you think? Can I bestow the other six awards in a few months when I've read more? That's what I'm going to go with for now! Thanks again, Kimberly, and thanks to these bloggers who I so enjoy, and thanks to all of you for reading!

These Are a Few of My Favorite Things

Sweet sleepy moments...

Little pumpkin butts...

Baby burritos...

Funny faces...

Little pink cheeks...

Big blue eyes...

Movie moments...

Big pretty bows...

Looking up to others...

Edgy fashion choices...

Friends...

Family...

Hugs...

Sweetness...

Coolness...

Goofiness...

Joy...

Laughter...

Drama...

Love...

Vanity, Thy Name is Glam-O-Mommy

A major part of my feeling of self-worth lives and dies by the state of my hair.

If my hair looks good, there's almost nothing that can ruin my day. If my hair looks bad, well, the day is only going to go downhill from there.

Lately, I've been having LOTS of bad hair days. This is partially because about seven months ago I let my stylist of 17 years convince me to change the way he does my highlights. For about five years or so, I've sported chunky double blonde highlights set off with double lowlights. This makes me look very blonde, which makes me very happy. (I was born a blonde, so I'm always trying to return my hair to its natural state LOL.) He really thought I should go back to thin blonde highlights and few lowlights, with more of my regular (I refuse to call the dirty dishwater color that grows in my natural color) color coming through.

When I decided to try it his way, I instantly regretted it. Not only did I look less blonde, my roots became visible much more quickly than normal. For seven months, I've been trying to get him to switch my highlights back to the chunky double highlight/double lowlight look I love...the look that feels like me.

Then, July happened. Let's take stock of my July, shall we? Hurricane Alex hit the first week, which meant I worked extra long days at work and missed out on time with my kid, which makes me unhappy. By the time that was over, I had a horrible cold, which dragged on through the next week and caused me to miss some work. Then, just as I was getting over that, my husband had emergency surgery and was in the hospital for three days, and then was still down for the count recovering all this last week. This meant that I again missed work, putting me behind on a big project, plus I was extra stressed taking care of both my dear husband and my daughter without his help, PLUS I missed my normal highlight appointment, meaning my already scraggly, rootsy hair had to stay that way for an extra week.

So, I've felt kind of like Crap Walking all month, but especially the last two weeks. And when my parents offered to keep my daughter yesterday (hubby's not allowed to lift her for FOUR MORE WEEKS-GAH), so I could go get my hair and nails done and do a little personal pampering, I jumped at the chance! When I called my stylist to make my hair appointment, I was all, "Look, dude...I am not letting you talk me out of this again...I WANT my chunky double highlights and lowlights back! I want my MOJO back!"

Two points here:

• I said "dude" to my stylist because he is a 6"4" straight guy (strange for a stylist, I know) who has curly 80s rocker hair all the way down to his waist. I'm not even exaggerating this description. He once got mad at me when I told him I had DREAMED he had cut his hair short like Sammy Hagar did when he was in Van Halen. Last night, he was going to see the Scorpions in concert here in San Antonio. Because I've been going to him for 17 years, I can call him dude and be completely honest with him about what I want. I realized yesterday he is one of the few people I can talk to this honestly LOL, and it's very refreshing. :)
• The Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines "mojo" as (1) a magic spell, hex, or charm or (2) magical power. I truly believe my hair is the font of all my mojo and has magical powers. But only when the highlights are RIGHT!

So yesterday was a fabulous day for me. I got a mani/pedi for the first time in at least a month. My stylist willingly obliged me and did my highlights the way I like them, which has made me SO happy. (In his appointment book, next to my name, he had written, "Wants mojo back!" LOL) Then, I got a massage and a facial and capped off the day with dinner with all of the people I love: my sweet parents, my dear husband, and my darling daughter.

Am I vain? YES. But I was thinking about it this morning and I realized I'm a lot LESS VAIN than I used to be.

As a mom, there are lots of situations you find yourself in where you just can't take the time to care about your personal appearance or how you look to other people.

This morning, for example, I took my daughter to a different pool because our swim class was cancelled. I would've preferred to carry my daughter about in the water and practice some of our swim class activities, like back floating, kicking, going underwater briefly, etc. This could all be done in the four- to -five-feet deep section of the pool, so that my poochy mom belly and flabby thighs would be nicely covered up by the water as they are in swim class. My daughter preferred to sit in the shallow two inches of water at the entry end and splash, which meant that is exactly where I sat with her, poochy belly and flabby thighs out above the water for the world to see. :) She was happy as a clam, and I was happy she was happy. This is a far cry from the pre-baby me that only ventured in a pool to cool off, never got my hair or face wet, and inclined on a lounge chair with one leg cocked up at a precise angle to make my belly look as flat as possible LOL.

(OK, technically, I am working out twice a week to try and tighten the belly and thighs up before our Jamaica trip; however, realistically I know that I will spend very little time in Jamaica lounging on a chair under a palm tree like I did on my last visit and most of my time carrying her or chasing after her and looking crazily disheveled and wet like I did at the pool today. A girl can dream though.)

Other situations I've faced as a mom where all vanity and caring-what-other-people-think-of-me went out the window:

• Infertility treatment. Everyone and their brother got a look at my hoo-ha during this time--the first part of my journey as a  mother.
• Giving birth. Everyone and their brother got a look at my hoo-ha, I threw up twice in front of a room full of people, and continually felt stuff other people could see gushing from me for several hours. BUT I got the epidural, which made all of that go out the window and was A-MAZ-ING, and my beautiful daughter came out healthy and loudly a mere eight hours after the whole thing began. AWESOME.
• Explosive diapers. My daughter has gifted me with several of these, most memorably as we descended into the San Antonio International Airport. You know, on the descent. Where you cannot leave your seat. Where my husband and I belatedly wrapped my daughter and her RIVER of poop in her changing pad and I ran off the plane (not really, even the threat of poop doesn't stop the idiots in front of you from taking forever to get their damn suitcases out of the overhead bins) to the bemused stares of the surrounding passengers and had to inform the flight attendants to check seat 24B for poop on the way out. Where I then had to strip my daughter completely naked, wipe all the poop off of her and myself and change her into another outfit to the bemused stares of the surrounding female passengers, who had all come to the bathroom directly off of our flight and seemed to be enjoying my Poopapalooza.
• Vomit. The first time my daughter ever threw up, I tried to catch it in my hands to save the couch. Take it from me...that doesn't work. It leaves you with a couch still covered in vomit and HANDS covered in vomit...hands that need to pick up your baby who is freaked out and covered in vomit. Luckily, this was at home. I've also worn another kid's vomit on my pants back to work after feeding my daughter her bottle at school. Word of advice: identify the stealth vomiters in your baby's day school class early and do not sit near them while feeding your own baby. It's bad enough to wear your own kid's vomit...worse to wear some other kid's!
• Insane crying, part I. This has really only happened to me twice in public. Once was at my daughter's first swim class, where she cried hysterically from the beginning to the end of the lesson, all the while clinging to my neck and face and HAIR and almost exposing my boobs to the assembled parents watching their older children's lessons. I just kept going and tried to keep my boobs covered and my hair out of my eyes and now she loves swimming.
• Insane crying, part II. The other time was worse. My daughter really is generally a good traveler, explosive poopy diaper aside (that was the airlines' fault, we had experienced several flight delays, but the kind where you are on the jetway and they won't let you get up from your seat and people don't like it if you change a diaper right on the seat, so you try to wait the situation out, thinking, "We'll be there soon."). Counting each leg of a trip as its own flight, she has been on 14 flights in under two years. The explosive diaper was one bad experience. The only other, insane crying one, I also blame partially on the airlines. She and I had already had a flight delay, so we were taking off on our last flight of the day into San Antonio later at night than I'd expected. My daughter was overtired from being out of town, meeting new relatives, being spoiled by my parents who were at our destination, and napping erratically despite my best efforts to keep her on a schedule. As the plane took off and the lights were turned out for our 40-minute flight, she fell asleep, which was awesome...for 25 minutes. Then, the flight attendants abruptly turned on the lights and made an announcement, which jolted my daughter into having a night terror. This is a bout of insane crying where the baby isn't actually awake or consolable. They last 10-15 minutes and there is really nothing you can do to calm the baby down. She had had a few of these night terror episodes at home before, usually when she skipped a nap and was overtired, so I recognized that was what was happening right away. I knew nothing would console her, she just had to get through it, but I tried everything to do so anyway, all the while with her screaming, trying to climb out of her seat and up my body, and clawing at my hair. Yes, I was that parent unable to calm down their child on a plane. Yes, I got RUDE comments from people in the surrounding rows, although I got several supportive comments from parents who had been there themselves. I got a little more sympathy when a flight attendant asked me my daughter's age and I told her she was 18 months old. Because my 18-month-old was as big and TALL as many three-year-olds, so most people just thought she was being a Terrible Toddler. "She's just a baby then!" the flight attendant exclaimed, which shut some of the people up. Yes, she is indeed a baby, I said. And she's having a night terror episode because she was overtired, our flight was delayed till late, and the lights and announcement jarred her from a sound SLEEP! The capper to this episode was discovering as I finally deplaned with my finally calm baby that I had gritted my teeth so hard trying to calm her down that I had CHIPPED the top of one of my lower teeth. We met my husband at baggage claim and I promptly burst into tears. Not glam.

So there you have it. I am admittedly vain, but becoming less so all the time. I mean, I did live without nails and accepting bad hair days way beyond my pre-baby tolerance for that type of thing (ZERO TOLERANCE). This is just one of the ways my daughter is making me a better person. I'm growing. I have less time for vanity and more acceptance of imperfection. I've also become amazingly more patient, but that's a subject for another post. :)

This is what my daughter has looked like on 12 out of 14 flights.

 This is how we normally look when we travel--poop and night terrors aside.