Hair history repeats itself

One reason we have history books and cameras is so we can learn from the past. Apparently I did not learn from my past when I decided to cut Mark's hair tonight, on the eve of the blessing of our baby in church.

On the bright side, maybe we don't need to take pictures of Mark tomorrow because we already know what he will look like (from 2004).


Hopefully Mark's still got that yellow tie around, but my gut feeling is that my pink skirt is going to be a little tighter on my hips these days (four years and two kids later).

Cross your fingers that history doesn't repeat itself like this, though.

Opposites

Whoever said that opposites don't attract has never seen a four year old in action in the morning.

Culture shock

We seem to be suffering from a little bit of culture shock over here.

Mark's trying to get back to normal life without his normal clothes. Last night we finally tracked down his lost luggage to...wait for it...the Israel airport!

My luggage did arrive, but I am working to get used to that whole motherhood thing again. Instead of being chauffered around and catered to by my wonderful parents, now I'm in charge of chauffering (with a lot more carseats) and preparing meals for others. (Lily is so much less demanding than toddlers!)

Lily has the worst culture shock, though. She went from two weeks (a significant portion of her life) as an only child to being the baby sister of two doting and smothering older sisters. They can't seem to leave her alone, especially not when she's asleep--Those purple eyelids need poking (by Eliza) and that bald head needs rubbing (by Sage). Her sisters are always looking to include her in their fun. Eliza loves to ask "Do you want a cup of tea of rootbeer, Lily?" in her most falsetto voice. And Sage loves to sing remnants of a song our ward choir performed last month, "Baby, lying in a manger, whatcha gonna be?" Two inches from Lily's poor overstimulated face.

I think Lily doesn't know what to make of all of our quiet nursing times in the bedroom since she's also nursed in buses, falafel shops, five airports, The Church of the Nativity, the Sistine Chapel and more. She probably feels somewhat cast off due to her 90% decrease in time spent in the sling. On the other hand, she does seem to be sprouting a few milimeters of hair growth, so perhaps this culture shock isn't all bad.

Bagagli perduto

The Baggage gods hate me. I mean they REALLY HATE me.

Two weeks ago, my luggage got lost between Salt Lake and Rome (causing me to miss my next flight to Jerusalem). It finally arrived six days later. One suitcase was dented in, but I was not about to complain. The spirit of Christmas and of wearing two shirts and one pair of pants for a week straight made me quick to forgive and quick to want to burn my old clothes. Also I was happy to be able to deliver my Christmas presents of powdered sugar and bacon bits to my parents.

Yesterday I tempted fate again and flew from Rome to Chicago. I picked up my bags in Chicago and took them through customs before rechecking them (minus the Italian orange, which was confiscated from me with white gloves). Unfortunately, my next flight's departure time had been moved up and they were done boarding by the time I arrived. Those Chicagoans have no mercy. Not even for a super tired mommy and trooper 2-month-old baby. To add insult to injury, I got tagged for the extra special security feel down. Dang Italian orange.

Perhaps the airline agent saw me offering desperate prayers in line to rebook my flight, because after clicking away for at least 20 minutes, he was able to get me a standby ticket on a later flight with a different airline. I spent a nervous two hours wondering if my ticket would pan out (since the flight was overbooked by12 people, and I was down to one more diaper for Lily), and almost cried of happiness when they handed me a boarding pass with my seat on it. Never mind that it was a middle seat in the back of the plane next to a teenage boy who was rather squeamish about Lily's interest in nursing. I was headed home! God bless the USA.

True to form, my bags failed to appear when we arrived in Salt Lake. I flew on Alitalia (Rome to Chicago), checked my bags with Delta (in Chicago), flew on American Airlines (Chicago to Salt Lake), and found my traveling partner's bags had arrived on United, and mine were not in anyone's computer system.

Today I picked up Mark, Sage, and Eliza from the airport, and Mark's bags were missing and Eliza's suitcase was ripped.

I think I will not travel again for a very, very, very long time. The peanuts are just not worth it.


(I can certainly appreciate these two blog entries.)