Travel log, 7.17.11

I'm facing a bit of technical difficulty/laziness in uploading the majority of my photos right now, but rest assured, there are plenty, and they are super cute. So for now, you get another "random observations about my life and traveling" post. This also means you'll get a few posts full of pictures whenever I'm able to upload everything.

You're welcome.

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Dear Mom and Dad,
I know we had a talk earlier about getting central air, but I just wanted to make sure you remembered it.
Love,
Your daughter who has no idea how she lived without it for the majority of the first 25 years of her life.

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After my day 'o travel with Elle, I was nostalgic for the time when I was the young woman on a layover carrying one bag, one latte and one paperback book or magazine to read while tucked away in an area near my gate. Instead, I had one stroller, one baby and one uber large bag with contents unknown trying to let her daughter expend every last inch of energy before boarding the plane. I'm thankful for Elle, but I have a new appreciation for the days when my biggest concern was vanilla latte or caramel macchiato.

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I should be pumping right now. But I'm not! It's the end of my end-of-the-night pumping session. Last night was the last one I plan on doing. When I return to work, I'll continue the once-a-shift pumping schedule until the end of the month, and then I'll gradually phase that one out, too. (Hi. I'm slightly excited about this.)

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Elle is usually a pretty, um, "regular" baby. But for the two days before we left Florida, we had very little action on the bowel front. I was terrified that she'd unleash a fury of digestive activity on the plane and leave solo travelin' mama with all of the fun. Alas, little girl waited until the next day to work on things, and life is good again. (Thank you, sweet baby.)

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The cleaning of my old closet did commence, and I found some super funny stuff. If the National Scrunchy Society is looking for donations, I'm alllll over that. And apparently I went through quite a beading phase in middle and/or high school. My apologies to Belinda Carlisle and Paula Abdul, as well as all of the super cool mixed tapes that bit the dust in the cleanse. But hooray! I found three of my old Barbies and my two-legged Ken doll (What? You didn't have a one-legged Ken doll that didn't survive adolescence?!) as well as some accessories that I can pass on to Elle.

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The weather in Ohio was glorious when we arrived. Warm, but not too hot, and warm, but not humid. (These things are big for me.) On Thursday morning, I headed out for a run in my childhood neighborhood. I mentally planned out my route, including my warm up, and set off after Elle was down for her morning nap. My mentally proposed warm up went by in a flash - it seems my old neighborhood is a lot smaller than I remember it. That meant I had to rethink the rest of my run, too, but it was weird being back in the old 'hood as a 30-year-old runner, as opposed to the child or teenager who walked it or biked to and from friends' houses. I saw houses for sale, houses that have been remodeled and houses that no longer belong to people I know. I didn't start running until a few years ago, so pounding the pavement here was a totally different experience, and it took me back down memory lane a bit. Tim and I went out for a run yesterday morning, and that one struck me because it was a) the first time we've really worked out together in almost a year (since the day before Elle was born, really) and b) a chance to voice to him all of the differences that exist between my "then" and the neighborhood's "now."

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Tim and I came home from a wedding last night and headed to bed soon after. Elle is bunking in a pack-n-play in the same room as us, and apparently we caught her mid-sleep cycle because she started to stir. We tried to silently peel back the covers and crawl in to bed without a sound, but it didn't work. She KNEW we were there, and she was awake and wanted to party. We got her to quiet down and steered back toward Dreamland ... but about 35 minutes later, after I thought she had long been asleep, she had a two-minute conversation with herself that consisted of repeated strains of: "Giggle giggle. *haha* Giggle. Whee be doo beeeeee. Giggle. *ha*." It was hard not to laugh, or even turn to Tim and say, "What the heck?!" But I didn't dare chance engaging her.