Gah. I composed a long, detailed post yesterday filled with a witty retelling of the tale of our plane ride to Regina but when I went to publish it, the internet ate it. It was gone and has probably been pooped out somewhere in cyber space. Ooo, I was mad. Here is my attempt at remembering the things I wrote in that last post:

It is great to be home. The deep freeze is filled to bursting with shortbread, brownies, and mozzarella sticks. The downstairs fridge is stocked mightily with a vast array of diet sodas. There are grandparents lurking around every corner begging to hold, feed, rock and play with Avelyn. My dad, who hasn’t seen her since she was a week old, is especially smitten.

The flight here was…tolerable. It could have been much worse but the overall conclusion remains that travelling with a child is a labourious endeavor and is one that we plan to repeat as minimally as possible.

We barely made it onto our plane due to the long, winding line through security. I was in panic mode as we stood at the back of the queue, bouncing Avelyn in the bjorn while she chugged back a bottle of milk, and I saw the minutes on the clock passing much more quickly than the line was moving. I was on the verge of charging to the front of the masses and bellowing, “Our plane leaves in six minutes! We have a baby! She has grandparents who are dying to see her! Will you please let us go ahead of you all so we can get on the jet?!” Luckily we made it through with nary a moment to spare; we boarded the plane at 10:42 and its departure time was scheduled for 10:45. The first leg of our journey was blissful; Avelyn downed a bottle of milk and slept the entire way to Edmonton. Then we were grounded in Edmonton for about an hour as passengers deplaned and new ones boarded. Of those new passengers, about six of them were grumpy babies. And we were all crammed into the same section of the plane. The rest of the trip home was filled with a continual chorus of wailing, tantrums, screaming and finally a few moments of silence as all of the children fell into a fitful slumber of exhaustion. Avelyn only really melted down for about 15 minutes which isn’t too bad overall, but still. No fun.

She has been doing really well here, though. Sleeping well, playing lots and savouring the unending attention she’s being showered with.

I have been enjoying sleeping in a little bit as my parents start their days waiting by Avelyn’s door, willing her to rouse, then fighting over who gets to take her out of her bed and give her the morning bottle. It’s also been swell to spend time with some dear friends. Yesterday Jen and I went shopping and I bought these:

They are NOT skinny jeans (you already know how I feel about those). They are straight leg. I thought they would be a nice, happy medium between the flared jeans of my youth and the ankle-binding styles of today. I convinced my brother to snap this photo for me. His first attempt was unaccpetable because it was not taken from the calves down…there were some chubby knees in the frame and that’s not OK. It took about six tries to finally get the above picture.

Yes, I am a little self-conscious in these new jeans and my butt/hips/thighs do feel a little more noticable without the counteractive denim shrouding my calves.

But that’s the price one must pay to be a fashion victim.