Pride Cameth

And I fell.

[narscosmetics.com]

I know things, okay?  And I will tell you about them.  Sometimes I won’t even wait for you to ask.  Like the time I told you how to fly with your babies.  All of this was based entirely on one of two things happening: either you have someone with you or your kid gets their own seat, and preferably their car seat as well.  If you strap them in, they can’t knock over your Bloody Mary.

Well… APPARENTLY Saturday is a really popular day for flying from Oregon to Minnesota.  I mean really popular.  Standing room only popular.  Waiting list popular.  Put your kid on your lap popular.  Because why wouldn’t you want to go from 70 degrees and sunny to 40 degrees and rainy?

The details of the day are not important.  I may have had 15 minutes to get through security and to my gate.  I may have had nothing to eat.  I may have almost checked my baby along with her car seat.  Anything is possible.

Let’s just say that the husband looked “worried” when he saw us emerge at the end of it all.  Something about “catatonic” and “shell shocked,” but I wasn’t really listening.

The moral of the story is that I’m down two pouches.  You know, the purse that you put inside your purse so that you can get to your lip gloss without digging?  One got run over a couple weeks ago.  I know.  I had to say goodbye to one lip gloss, a brand new lipstick, and there is now a lipstick reminder of my carelessness all over my drivers license.  I cleaned it all up and transferred everything that survived (my car key remote thingy not on the survivors list) to the OTHER pouch.

That pouch is now in Delta heaven somewhere, frolicking with discarded peanut packets and used blankets.  As it turns out, when there is whining and squirming and snot and drool and GO LIMP SHE’S NOT STRONG ENOUGH, there is bound to be a casualty.  I just wish it didn’t have to be my last pouch, with my good keychain and backup lipstick (see above ill-fated lip wear) and Macy’s store credit that I had designated for a new mascara.

This is not my child.  [realchilddevelopment.com]

And my new favorite pen that was delivered by a pen angel after I lost my old favorite pen.

This is not my pen.  [dickblick.com]

And my HEADPHONES?  Now I have to quit running.

Because running is boring.  [blog.mindfitmove.com]

This is why we can’t have nice things.  They get run over by airplanes.