First Flight...

Lola and I are enjoying a lovely mama-daughter week in Oregon with family.  Because it is just us girls, I had the pleasure of experiencing Lola's first plane ride alone.  Meaning, without Reece.

Terrifying.

I had been told, and on some occasions witnessed first hand, all sorts of horror stories about infants screaming throughout entire flights due to the pressure and their ears and the stinky passenger sitting beside them.

I would be lying if I said I wasn't the tiniest bit freaked I would have a horror story of my own to tell when we finally stepped off the plane in Portland.  Equally stressful was the thought of lugging all our crap through two airports with a teething 6-month-old in my arms.

Our flight was scheduled to leave Salt Lake City at 8:30 a.m., so naturally I was up at 5:30 for a quick shower and a lot of last-minute packing.  They don't call me Miss Procrastinator for nothing.  I have never been one for packing light, and Lola has too many adorable clothes to choose from, so we ended up leaving the apartment with a 400 pound bag, my massive purse-turned-diaper-bag, Lola's carseat, my computer bag and an umbrella stroller.

I think I'm finally ready to revisit the packing light thing.

We left the house around 7:40, arrived at the airport 10 minutes later and discovered that nearly every single parking spot was taken.  Not a good sign.  I've traveled through Salt Lake International countless times and always appreciated its emptiness.  Apparently times have changed, because the line for the electronic check-in kiosks wrapped around Terminal 2 twice.

Immediately I panicked, certain we would miss our flight.  Apparently playing the panicked mother card gets a girl ahead in life, because several travelers ahead of us in line let us straight through.  Reece and Lola ran up to jump in the giant security line while I checked one bag ($25? Are you freakin' kidding me?) and hauled up the stairs to join them.

I arrived to find Reece casually standing to the side of the line, which only made the panic grow.  That is, until he introduced me to the blessed "family line" which was virtually empty.  Just one more reason to have a kid people.  We bid daddy a quick farewell and made a mad dash through security, which was a hoot, let me assure you.  Not only did I have to remove my coat and shoes, the security people made me remove Lola's coat and shoes as well.  Really?  Because she has "terrorist" written all over her.  I also discovered how much I rely on my husband to do the little things.  Because apparently I am incapable of collapsing our $15 umbrella stroller.

We made it to the gate in the nick of time, with Lola squealing with joy as I maneuvered my way to the furthest gate possible.  When we finally settled into our seat, I felt like I had just finished a marathon or something equally accomplished.

I braced myself for the dreaded takeoff and literally held Lola's binky in her mouth to avoid the ear popping.  Do you know what she did?  She smiled at me, snuggled into my chest and went straight to sleep.  I cannot tell you the last time she fell asleep in my arms -- she fancies herself Miss Independent as of late.

Turns out, Lola really loves flying.  She was a complete angel the entire 1 hour 34 minutes we were on that airplane.

Here's Lola with the bulk of our caravan.  I think I lost 10 pounds just lugging that through the Portland airport.

We survived.  I even managed to haul all that stuff into the airport bathroom with me, because how the heck are you supposed to use the riduculously tiny airplane bathrooms with a baby?  If you've discovered the secret, please share.

We are having a lovely time relaxing and visiting with family, but we miss our man terribly.  Just cross your fingers the return flight will be as pleasant as the first one.