It's Christmas Time!

Thank goodness it's Christmas Time! Because Thanksgiving is not for the faint of heart.

At least mine wasn't.

It started off well. The HG and I went to visit his family in Florida. As I've mentioned on many occasions, flying is not my favorite activity. I've had fillings I enjoyed more. The time I fractured my ankle ranks higher than flying. There are really only a couple of events that are lower on my list of things to do than flying. But fly I must if I want to spend the holidays with my husband. So I suck it up and go. Generally all hopped up on Xanax. One to get to the airport. One to get on the plane. One with every bump of turbulence. And it works well. I don't even draw blood on the HG's hand (anymore).

On the flight TO Florida, I was a champ. I got to the airport and on the plane without even the slightest hesitation. And no Xanax. I "breathed" through the take-off. (Ok, I actually prayed constantly. And repeated "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me" and "Let go and let God" and singing various praise songs that popped into my head "God is so good, he's so good to me".) But whatever. I did it. And there was virtually NO turbulence. AND the flight was not full so I even had an empty seat next to. Best flight ever! Our luggage was the first out of the baggage claim! This vacation is going to rock!

And then we went to pick up our rental car.
And it went down hill from there.

Rich, my new anti-BFF started with the attitude. Ok, ok. I know I'm not known for my love of the people on the other side of the counter, but for real. This guy was a piece of work. At this point in my pregnancy, I'm clearly pregnant. Or at least really fat wearing maternity clothes. Either way, there is certainly enough of a question that you shouldn't mess me with. And secondly, it was after midnight. Ok, so I was really, really tired. And HOT. It was 20 degrees when we left Boston...and over 70 when we landed in FL. And I had a sweater and a fleece on. SO I'm hormonal, hot, and tired. And Rich was coping attitude. I didn't understand what he said when he asked for our phone number. So I said, "I'm sorry?" (I said it nicely. I PROMISE! I swear, this is true. The HG will vouch for me.) His reply: "PHONE.NUMBER." (really slowly..like you would to a 2 year old) Um, excuse me? Did you really just say that? Anyway, I let it go. I figured I'd have to fight about not taking the insurance and wanted to save up my sweet customer points. Rich wasn't having it. We had a similar exchange at least 3 times with different questions. I let it all go. I was too tired. I really just was. And then. After giving me a quick look over he said, "Is the Chevy Alero ok or do you want something, um, bigger?" He was very clearly insinuating that I'd be happier in a bigger car. Oh, no you didn't. (Insert finger snaps here) Ok, that's it buddy, we're gonna battle.

But I didn't. I was sweet. (Hi, can I get some karma points, PLEASE?? apparently not. Read on)

We got in the matchbox car Chevy is calling an "economy" car and headed to the family house without further incident. Which is too bad. Because had there been a problem on the way to the house, I would have assumed the trip was doomed and insisted we drive back to the airport and grab the next flight home. But instead, I assumed the rental car guy was an isolated incident and the rest of the trip would be great.

How wrong, how wrong, how wrong I was.
Once we got into the house and ready for bed (ahhhh....BED), I realized that I left my wrist braces at home and would have to sleep without them. That was a mistake. The HG woke up and found me in tears the next morning. Between his snoring (Dear Lord, how does he not wake himself up? Seriously.) and the stabbing pain in my arms, I got no sleep. My arms hurt so badly, that had I not known it was because of my carpal tunnel, I'd have headed to the ER. But Ok. It's fine. I'm in FL, the weather is fantastic, and I can fix the arm pain with some new braces. The worst is behind me, right?

Wrong. I made the mistake of checking my work email. The first one I read said, "I know you're sort of on vacation, but.....". Sort of? SORT OF? There is no sort of. I am ACTUALLY on vacation. Except for the next 2 days apparently, because I spent half of each of the first two days working. Lovely. But really, at this point, there's no place to go but up.

Right? Wrong.

Everything was great right up until Thanksgiving dinner. Or rather, right up until AFTER Thanksgiving dinner. Dinner was wonderful. I am a huge fan of butternut squash and my diabetes nutritionist informed me that I can have a WHOLE CUP of mashed butternut squash versus a lousy half cup of mashed potatoes (For real? 1/2 a cup? What's the point of that?) So for the first time, we had butternut squash for Thanksgiving while in Florida. I made it. And it.was.fantastic. I decided I was so good at dinner (3 slices of turkey, my cup of squash, one roll, and some green beans) that if the HG and I took a nice long walk, I could afford to have some pumpkin pie (mmmm....pie....). So I hit up the bathroom first. Hey, I'm pregnant. You have to prepare for long walks.

And that's where I saw the terrifying sight. Blood. Again. (Come ON, it's Thanksgiving for crying out loud!) But rather than panic, I decided to take the walk and see what happened when we got back. So we took it easy and walked to the lake. It's a nice lake and lots of people in the neighborhood had Christmas lights up. And the weather was beautiful. Mid 60's, low 70's, not a cloud in the sky. Too bad I didn't enjoy any of it. The second we got home, I ran to the bathroom and hoped to see nothing.

It was a futile hope. So the HG and I called my OB, who I have to say, was fantastic. She told me that I was fine, but for peace of mind to head to the nearest ER with an OB department. If I was having cervix problems, she didn't want me on a plane the next day. So we headed back to the family room and said, "Oh hey, so we're gonna take a ride. Um...where's the nearest hospital with an OB department?" We're so subtle. And stealth... nobody suspected a thing. (Ok, that's not true, but it did ease our path to the door....)

Anyway, very long story short, our little Nutter is just fine. A big pudger, measuring 2 weeks ahead by weight and a week ahead by length. So big, but fine. Whew. Once again, it's just my cranky cervix. I over did the walking, cooking, flying...etc. So I'm back on pelvic rest for the duration of this pregnancy. My doc wants me to continue walking and I can swim. But nothing more than light walking. And no sex. Sigh. Poor HG. He's such a trooper.

Ok, so Nutter man is fine. I'm fine. We can head home. 2 hours on a plane and everything will be fine.
Huh.

I had a bad, bad feeling about getting on the flight. But then I ALWAYS have a bad, bad feeling about getting on the plane. So I sucked it up and got on. But this was different. I could not shake the feeling that being on that plane was the worst idea ever.

And while it turns out that it wasn't the worst idea EVER, it wasn't a good idea, either. We hit the worst turbulence I've every felt with in 15 minutes of take off. I woke up the HG (that boy can sleep through ANYTHING) and tearfully told him I wanted off the plane. Immediately. He suggested that perhaps leaving the plane at that moment was not the best plan I'd ever had. Alright, I'll give him that. The turbulence settled down, but I was still very nervous. More nervous than I've been on a plane in about 5 years. I was just terrified and I didn't know why.

It seems that there really is such a thing as women's intuition. Since we fly into Boston, we fly right over Providence, RI. Once we got there, the pilot come on the intercom and said "Due to some heavy wind sheer in Boston, we're in a holding pattern here until they can change up some runways to clear us to land."

Ok, now to a normal person, this is a not a scary announcement. But I am NOT a normal person (Hi, if you think I am, you've clearly not been reading for long.) I read those fear of flying websites. Or rather, I used to read those fear of flying websites. I have since learned that they just scare me more. But I did manage to learn enough to know that wind sheer is actually the only kind of turbulence that can bring a plane down. Oh.freaking.joy.

After about 15 minutes of circling (during which time I prayed they'd just have to land us in Providence. That's cool. I have friends in Providence...I'd get home. No problem. Land the plane...) we were cleared to land in Boston. And land we did. Praise the Lord. After 10 minutes of the plane being pushed from side to side and several nose down drops that caused passengers to scream, babies to cry, and flight attendants to visibly panic, we landed. Dear Lord. I might never get on a plane again. If you've ever seen the movie The Day After Tomorrow, picture the plane scene in that movie and you'll have an idea of what we went through. Terrifying does not even begin to describe the last 10 minutes of that flight. The HG didn't want me to know how scared he was, but later he admitted that he was a bit concerned that he'd die watching "True Life: I'm a Shopaholic" on MTV. (Ok, now that's just funny.)

I shook for a good three hours after the flight. I cried for no reason several times that afternoon. But we were home.
And my Thanksgiving was over.

And now it's time for Christmas! I can't wait! I'm so blessed this year. So happy for everything we have. So happy to be pregnant and having this little man. It is such a change from last Christmas when the baby nazi made her monthly appearance on Christmas day.

I am so happy to be past that.