Sunday Scribblings at the end of a long road

I spent the week visiting my family in California--fun, but I was ready to go home. Unfortunately, I set out too late for the airport, got lost, got stuck in traffic, and missed my flight. My dad arranged for me to catch one home today, and I got to spend another great day with my dad and family, and their FREAKING AWESOME POOL.

So I set out this morning at 6 AM to fly home to see my husband, finally. I really really missed him, mostly because he is my best friend and I like him a lot, but a little because I was tired of The Jooj. Add to that the dismay of rushing and missing a plane, and my emotions were all wonky.

So I got to the airport in plenty of time and bought some French Toast Sticks and ate them all and pre-boarded with Jooj. It took a minute to get the stroller collapsed and the bags and the baby in my arms and, being the last to pre-board, I was immediately passed by some travellers who were READY TO FIND A SEAT. (The SW guy was really irritated by this and gave them all a guilt trip, which tickled me.) I was able to find a seat and I lowered the tray at the end of the aisle and made it look like the kid was really crabby, and finagled my way to a completly empty row by the time we took off. It was early enough that Jooj slept, all cuddly and sweet in my lap for the 50 minute flight to Vegas. I was filled with all sorts of lovey emotions, because she is not a cuddler anymore, and I thought "This is the payoff for being a mom."

We deplaned and had to take a shuttle to the other side of the airport and made our connector just in time. I pulled the same trick and got another entire row to myself and readied for more Mother's Day snuggling--I even got a little blanket from the flight attendant for extra coziness.

And then I felt the wet diaper bag.

I fished around and found that the trial bottle of baby shampoo had exploded all over everything. Not too bad, though, just a little bottle. Jooj saw a toy she wanted and I handed it too her, and she put it in her mouth. We cuddled a little, but she wanted to play.

And then she made the face.

I thought that we could make it another 30 minuted on a stinky diaper, so I paid little attention until I picked her up for cuddling (I was like a heroin user--I had tasted the goods once and wanted another cuddle fix).

And then I felt the pants.

The shampoo must have been on the toy which she tasted because she exploded all over everything. Up her back, through the clothes. I had to change her on our beautiful empty row because the lavatory was occupied, which meant that I got to heave in front of the passengers. I buzzed for the attendant and she gave me a plastic bag for the messy clothes. I stuffed the blanket in there too, because it was nasty. (I told them I was taking it home to wash it and would bring it back--they said to just toss it and gave me hugs.) So my daughter was finally clean and calm, though naked like a hillbilly on an airplane. Ready to cuddle.

And then I felt wet on my pants.

I realized that I was sitting on a clump of wipes, which had seeped through my jeans, leaving me looking like I had wet myself.

At this point, I was done. It was all I could do to not breakdown and sob. The disappointment of not being home a day earlier, the stress of the plane, the lack of cuddling, and the sheer exhaustion of the week just hit hard and I was filled with so much anger/grief/dismay/hopelessness that I almost thought I wouldn't be able to walk to the baggage claim. W arrived and loaded me into the car, and I wasn't even able to be happy about being home; I felt like I was never going to rest as long as I lived.

He stopped at the 31 flavors and bought me a pint of chocolate-peanut butter and put the kid to bed and gave me a spoon. He cuddled me and let me unwind with an Entertainment Weekly. He brought me my MD present--my own new bath sheet and loofah and a lavendar eye pillow and let me sleep my dairy-induced coma off for four hours.

And when I woke up I felt like I had been home forever and the emotions of the day were hard to remember. Then we watched Oklahoma! because I'm just a girl who Caint say no to Oklahoma!.

And I thought that my day was a perfect example of the way that the Atonement works. Each little thing built up and up and up until I couldn't take anymore. Just then, someone arrived to take care of me, tuck me in, and let me recharge until I could go on again. If my flight had had three more legs, somehow I would have been able to get home, and the relief would have been just as sweet and needed. I could have come home, raged at W and beat the baby, and he still would have loved me and helped to wash the day away. Sometimes I do that to Heavenly Father--I don't take the help and relief because I am so angry that I have had to suffer through trials. How much easier it is when I just submit to the help that only He can give through His son's amazing sacrifice.

If I would write a book, I would want to convey the fellings of peace and love and safety I felt when W welcomed me home, and the joy I know I will feel when I am welcomed home at the end of this long, long layover. I would want readers to feel how wonderful it is to smell the first rain in El Paso after months of draught, and know that the earth is as clean as my soul feels today. I would want to share the joy of an unexpected cuddle, and the hope that the baby will eventually go to sleep. And I would want to have it all on really smooth, slick pages that made fingers feel happy.