Dear Easyjet

Dear Easyjet:

I was quite nervous (ok, scared shitless) flying with you for the first time. I know you are a low budget airline and probably don’t give a rats ass about your customers nor the quality of care you provide. I’ve flown low budget airlines in the United States and abroad and to be frank, it totally sucked.

This aside, I was most nervous about the fact that my husband knows one of your pilots. Yes, he went through flying training with him in the military and the military told him he didn’t have what it takes to become a pilot. That didn’t stop him though and he went to the commercial industry, where they also told him he didn’t have what it takes to fly commercially. But rest assured, he did become a pilot and now he sits in the cockpit of an Easyjet plane.

This latter point is what petrified me. I was also scared you would lose the one checked luggage with all of the clothes I had packed for my daughter and I for our three week vacation.

Boy was I wrong. I was wrong about a lot of things. First of all, I really appreciated how we boarded on time and even better took off EXACTLY, to the second, on time. To boot we even landed ten minutes early. I was wrong about the level of customer service you would provide b/c the flight attendants were friendly and courteous, unlike the American flight attendants on the intra-continental flights in America who can be surprisingly obnoxious and just plain rude.

I was wrong about our luggage too. You didn’t lose it. It arrived. Do you mind me asking, WHAT THE HELL you did to it though? I checked it in at Bristol and I received it in Prague and there was a piece cut out of it. Do you often cut out pieces of your customers’ luggage? And why (excuse my language) the fuck did you do that?

There is a big difference between a dent or a scratch and a piece that has blatantly been cut out and is missing.

I hesitate to think what was smuggled in that space from one country to the other.

I expect FULL reimbursement for this luggage that is now absolutely USELESS and I expect you to take FULL responsibility for this incident.

Regards,
TJW

Daddy Lessons, Part I

This evening I decided to test my hubby's know how on what our lives will be like when baby arrives. I was fairly certain that I had debriefed him thoroughly on the first few weeks with our little crying/pooping machine. 

Man, was I wrong.

Our conversation went a little somethin' like this:

Me: (reading from a magazine) "When baby is born she will spend about 16 hours per day sleeping, split roughly 50/50 between day and night, punctuated with feeds about every two hours."

Him: What? (in a very cute Dorset accent, I must admit)

Me: Well what did you think would happen? We would feed and hang out with baby during the day and sleep at night?

Him: No, I thought she would cry at night but we would just give her a little cuddle and she would go back to sleep.

Me: (burst out laughing)

Him: Whot? (Dorset accent)

Me: (still laughing and unable to speak)

Him: You have to feed the baby every two hours? Even at night?

Me: YES. And it's very exhausting. We have to wake up constantly at night to feed/change/attend to baby.

Him: But...

After this enlightening conversation I shoved an article in his face titled, "I'm desperate for a good night's sleep" and told him to read it silently to himself.

The End

Hospital Horror

Yesterday my husband and I went to the hospital where I thought I was going to give birth to our child for our little pre-delivery maternity visit.

Not so sure that's the place for me.

The tour was supposed to start at 2pm. Of course Bunny and I arrived at 1:45. 

At 2pm the health care assistant who was running the tour rounded us all up in the foyer of the maternity ward. As she was about to begin she somehow realized one of the partners of a pregnant lady on the tour was still parking their car. Stupidly (and in my opinion selfishly), she made us all stand there and wait for TEN minutes until this meathead showed up. Not sure why she had to make 8 heavily pregnant women stand around uncomfortably and wait rather than begin the tour and have him join us when he was ready. 

When Mr. Meathead finally showed up Mrs. Health Care Assistant started a looooong spiel which could have been started ten minutes earlier, consequently leaving us to uncomfortably stand ANOTHER ten minutes. At this point my back was aching, i was sweating and wanted to go home.

Health Care Assistant FINALLY stopped yapping and brought us to the first part of the tour; a wing off the foyer where women in labor were sent if they were not far enough along to stay in the hospital yet too far along to go back home. 

Each room here consisted of four beds with TV's in them, separated by curtains. Of course you had to pay to watch TV.

She than brought us to a little room and informed us that in the past, you were allowed to frequent this room and prepare yourselves coffee, tea and toast. Unfortunately, Health and Safety (guidelines created by the government on, you guessed it, health and safety) have declared pregnant women and women in labor incapable of preparing their own tea and toast, claiming they will burn themselves or heavens forbid even worse. 

Why she brought us to that empty, unused room to tell us this is beyond me. Probably just to torture us.

From there we went upstairs to the delivery ward. Before entering each ward we had to sanitize our hands with the hand sanitizer dispenser on the wall. That got old and redundant very quickly for me. I'm not sure I understood the point of continuously sanitizing your hands? Wasn't once enough?

First room we were shown was a standard, delivery room where we would most likely be delivering our little ones. I'm pretty sure I had a walk in-closet in my condominium in Illinois that was bigger. Talk about small. How in the world was a woman in labor, along with all of her crap, a mid-wife, a birthing partner, a health care assistant, AND an anesthesiologist (since i'm having an epidural there damn well better be one there)  able to fit in that closet is a mystery to me. And I don't know that I want to find out.

There is a bathroom for the delivery closet but you have to share it with the room next door. We were advised to please make sure we unlock the bathroom door that goes to the other room so as not to lock out the person in labor we share the bathroom with. How convenient.

There is a bigger delivery room, health care lady announced. But don't get your hopes up b/c there is no guarantee you will get it.

The "bigger" room was smaller than the room I delivered Emily in in the United States.

"From here", health care horror lady explained, "you will be able to go straight home within two to six hours after delivering your baby".

That's right. TWO TO SIX HOURS after giving birth they want your ass out of the hospital.

After snickering out loud I raised my hand and asked, "Call me crazy but what if I'm not ready to go home two to six hours after giving birth?"

"Well, you really will be more comfortable at home" she told me, "you'll see what I mean in a moment".

I think it was her attitude that really pissed me off, and the condescending way she spoke to me.  If she had said, "well if you are not comfortable leaving we won't force you to go", or, "we would be more than happy to give you some more time" I would have felt more reassured.

Who is she to tell me or anyone else that I will be more comfortable at home? Anything a little more positive to help a crazy, hormonal pregnant woman would have been appreciated.

Dumbfounded, i followed the crowd to the next part of the tour.

Health care assistant from hell leads us to the next ward which is called, "Wheal Fortune Ward". I dubbed it the "Wheel of Fortune". 

Here, there were about 3-4 single, private rooms smaller than the closets we had just seen in the delivery ward and 2 or 3 more bigger rooms with four beds separated by curtains. 

Every single private room was empty and the shared rooms were only 50% occupied. 

Health Care lady from hell informs us that in the Wheel of Fortune ward there are always 3-4 midwives on duty and two health care workers. There is also a maximum capacity of 24 patients. Therefore, it's very difficult for them to take care of so many patients. 

After doing the math (and I'm no mathematician) 24 patients divided by 6 people equals four patients each. This brought me to my next conclusion: health care lady doesn't want to be bothered with SO many patients therefore encouraging, or bullying (depending on how you see things) women to go home TWO to SIX HOURS after giving birth.

Call me cynical or negative, but that's how I interpreted things.  

After finishing with the Wheel I asked lady from Hell, (at this point I realize I'm the ONLY person asking questions. The rest appeared like a bunch of zombies, not interested in anything at all) 

"Can our partners spend the night with us if we have a private room?"

"No" she replied, "It's not fair to the rest of the women on the ward". 

As I  stared at her giving her the evil eye wondering in my head, "what are you talking about he would be in MY room?" she continued on, "We can't have him wandering the halls at night when other women may have short pyjamas on. It would make them feel uncomfortable. It's not fair to them."

Oh sorry. I forgot my husband was a PERVERT who would only be with me to wander aimlessly throughout Wheel of Fortune  like a peeping tom to catch a glimpse of some random woman's legs in her short nighty. My bad.

The tour ended after Wheel of Fortune with Health Care Lady telling us all of the ice machines have been removed from the Wheel of Fortune ward b/c Health and Safety said it was too dangerous for women in labor to suck on ice b/c they may choke.

Yippee. More good news.

Oh and I almost forgot; if you pull up to maternity and leave your car parked outside rather than parking it 7000 miles away in the pay and park area, you will most certainly get a ticket and your tire may even be clamped.

I was so distraught afterwards I couldn't even take the 30 minute nap I was planning in the car ride home.

I'm currently investigating home births.

Old Habits Die Hard

I have this habit of arriving at doctor's appointments early. I always perceived this to be a good habit. First come, first serve, right? 

WRONG. 

Not here in the land of socialized medicine.  I learned this the hard way, of course.

Lesson #1: do not arrive more than five minutes early for doctors appointment otherwise you end up waiting a VERY long time. 

A couple of weeks ago Emily was sick with a nasty virus that has strategically hit each of us in our family, starting with her. Emily's doctor appointment was at 3:00. We arrived at 2:40, checked in with the receptionist, and begun what we didn't know would be a fifty minute wait. 

In the United States (and even in Oman) when you arrive and check in to a doctors office, they whip out your little chart, put in a basket thereby securing your place in the long lineup of patients.

Not so here.

Why did we wait fifty minutes? 

The appointment before us arrived fifteen minutes after we did (2:55) but of course was seen by the doctor (yes the very same one that was seeing Emily) before her b/c, and I quote from the receptionist, "Well their appointment was before your daughters, wasn't it?"  

SO. We arrived before they did therefore Emily's little green or purple chart should've been in the line-up before that bee-ach!

Couple that cockamany system with the doc running 15-20 minutes late and we have fifty minutes of waiting. 

I was LIVID.

This does not sound like an organized and efficient way to run a medical office. What if the person before Emily was twenty minutes late? Were we just going to sit and wait for them to turn up?

Lesson #2: Even ten minutes is too early

Fast forward three weeks. Now I'm miserably sick and going for my second appointment in two weeks hoping for some relief. 

Arrival time, 11:25. Appointment, 11:40 (I can't help it I'm a glutton for punishment). 

I watched the tick-tock of the clock and surveyed all of the areas of the waiting room that needed a paint job (which turned out to be ALL areas of the waiting room). 

11:30 Chic in black tights with oversized sweater arrives and sits down across the room.

11:35 Chic in black tights with oversized sweater called in to see same doctor I have an appointment with.

11:40 comes and goes. 

11:45 nothin'.

11:46 I begin to wonder how I'm going to get the previous fifty minutes plus these twenty minutes of my life back.

11:50 "Theresa Warren" is called over the loud speaker to see Dr so and so (more on the loud speaker another time).

Twenty five minutes still sucks but it's a HUGE improvement over fifty. 

From now on I will NOT be arriving more than five minutes before any doctors appointment. (ok maybe six but I'll try really hard for five even if I have to sit out in the parking lot and wait in my car!)

Sick and Tired

Being pregnant can be challenging. To say the least. Sleepless nights, weird food cravings (or aversions), mood swings, extreme exhaustion (and that's on a good day). But being pregnant AND sick totally and completely SUCKS. 

It's been three weeks and two days and there is no sign of getting rid of this nightmare of a virus. I've been doing everything I'm supposed to: eating chicken soup, drinking hot drinks, and getting plenty of rest.

I've even been taking 4-5 gazillion milligrams of vitamin C per day. How much can one body endure? And one little baby? I can only imagine she is sick and tired of eating chicken soup and will probably have an aversion to it for the rest of her life. Emily says she can "hear" the baby when she listens. I'm going to have Emily ask her what she thinks of all of this chicken soup.

Honestly, how much chicken soup, tea and honey and lemon drinks can one person endure? (Coincidentally I HATE honey and lemon, a gruesome combination.) How many days do I have to sit around from my couch and watch the rest of the world while the sun FINALLY shines? 

Nap or Nourishment?

This morning I woke up at 7am. Normally, Monday - Friday, this wouldn't bother me as I have to get up with my daughter and husband anyway. However, on a Sunday, when I can sleep in, (more so because the little one is at a sleep over) it annoys the crap out of me that I wake up so early and can't fall back to sleep.

As I lay in bed, trying desperately to fall back to sleep, visions of bacon, egg and cheese sandwiches (one for me one for baby) danced in my head. 

That's when I was faced with one of the hardest decisions a pregnant woman has to face: sleep or eat?

Normally, if I weren't preggers, I wouldn't sacrifice sleep for food. The food will always be there. And the sleep feels sooo nice.

Now that I'm 6.5 months pregnant, the sleep would be nice if I could actually get comfortable and my ribs didn't hurt every time I lay on my left side and my arm, shoulder and hip wouldn't fall asleep every time I lay on my right side. Not to mention the HUGE effort it is to roll from side to side. 

After assessing the situation I decided food was more important. Baby was probably hungry after not eating for...9 hours anyway. Now all I need is some bacon, eggs and cheese and I'm all set!

Chips Crazy

Lately I’ve become obsessed with chips. In the UK the word “chips” refers to what we know as “French fries” in America, and really, to the rest of the world. Have you ever read a menu in a restaurant in any other part of the world that was translated into English only to find the word "chips" instead of "fries". I don't think so.

Last week I was at the grocery store and it took me a solid ten minutes to figure out which bag of chips to buy. I stealthily walked up and down the frozen chips section, back and forth, until almost panicking.

Which chips should I buy for my family? Chunky chips, thick chips, crinkle chips, rustic chips with or without the skins, curly chips, spiced curly chips, chips cut into wedges (not sure of their technical name), smiley face chips, waffle chips and finally, plain ole, regular chips (yes, they do exist).

The one thing I’ll never understand is vinegar with chips. How in God’s name did that combination evolve? I can live with the Belgian way of eating mayo and chips (quite yummy in fact) but I don’t think I’ll ever acquire a taste for vinegar and chips. YUCK!

Chips can be served with anything in this country; fish, burgers, steak, or alone as a meal in itself.  My daughter was even served chips with her lasagne at school recently.

The chip market in the UK is worth £1.2 billion. That means that £1 out of every £100 is spent in a fish & chips shop.

There are even a websites dedicated to the fanatical love of chips. This country is chips crazy!!

Sunday Afternoon

It's starting to become a tradition in our new little family that on Sunday afternoons we venture out for a nice walk or hike. As baby has been getting bigger the hikes up undulating hills along the rugged coast have been getting less and less and have turned into easier strolls on flatter terrain.

What better way to spend an afternoon together, breathing fresh air and enjoying the beautiful scenery around us. 

Two weeks ago Emily and I did a 75 minute walk on muddy terrain that was anything but flat. Although Emily enjoyed herself, singing the entire way, I can't say the same for myself; it was one of the coldest, windiest days yet this winter and the hills hurt my back and ever-expanding ab muscles. 

With that in mind this morning I suggested a few flat, easy beach walks to my husband. Praa Sands and Godrevy Beach were not only non-challenging but the scenery was beautiful. 

"We should go someplace we haven't been. We can't keep going to the same places" he argued. Fair enough, I thought. 

I left him in charge of finding a nice, Sunday afternoon outing and took my daughter for a milkshake at her favorite place, along with my mother who is visiting.

After milkshake, we arrived at our destination; a quaint, tiny village set in a cove almost inaccessible by car. Cadgwith Cove. This cove was dotted with thatched roof houses, was equipped with one pub (called the Cadgwith Cove Pub, of course), a gig rowing club and one little artsy store that sold art stuff by local artists. 

Adorable. Hubby was right. We do need to explore the area more. 

As I stood in the "center" of the cove I  admired the scenery to the left and to the right.  It never occurred to me that the only way to go was up. And when I say up I mean UP, about two hundred feet UP in either direction.

Five minutes into our ascent I was not a happy camper. Is he kidding me? Not only is the upward ascent steep, i had my wellies on (short for "Wellington boots") and my sixty-something-year old mother in tow.

Now, I consider myself a fit person; I still try to workout 3-4 times per week even though i'm 5.5 months preggers. Yesterday I beat both my in-laws AND my mother to the top of a steep hill that was only accessible via stairs. (ok it's true that all three of their combined ages nears two hundred but i'm pregnant. Do you know how much extra weight i'm carrying?)

Anywho, now 6 minutes into the walk and the love of my life has to physically help me and grandma up some stairs. 

Now I'm pissed. "How could he do this to me?" I thought to myself as I pictured the four of us strolling on a FLAT, sandy beach, not feeling like a heart attack is minutes away.

Upon reaching the top and looking down at the stunning view of the waves crashing into the rocks my anger subsided. 

Ok, I guess it was kind of worth it. 

On the way down I took another look at the adorable village in the cove with the thatched roof homes that I had never seen. Yes, I am KIND of glad I saw something new.

Afterwards, per my husbands  idea, we headed to a chocolate factory, bought some delicious chocolate and than went to an art gallery where the artist/owner demonstrated how he created art on special oriental paper.

As we chomped our chocolate and admired the art I thought to myself it was worth venturing out and seeing something new, even if it meant going out of my comfort zone.

Thanks Hon. :)

Five Days Until Move (or Six or Seven)

Obviously I'm failing miserably at one of my New Year's Resolutions (write on blog daily). Oh well.  Seeing as I'm pregnant, packing to move houses and started substituting last week, I think I'll cut myself a little slack.

The countdown until the move was on until the NAVY screwed it up (as usual). It was going to be Friday, now it could be Friday, or Saturday or Sunday, depending upon when the hubby gets home from wherever he has to go. Annoying.

Last Sunday evening Bunny and I had words. 

We exchanged words b/c we completely disagreed with each other's moving techniques. 

My idea: Have EVERYTHING packed so the day of the move we and our peops could move boxes and furniture to the house and than unpack at our leisure.

His idea: Have about 15-20 boxes. Fill the boxes in the old house with stuff. Transport boxes to new house. Dump (and I'm quoting him here) contents from boxes onto floor in room they belong in, return to old house, pack more things in empty boxes, transport to new house, dump contents on floor and so on.

This idea put me over the edge. 

We are doing it my way. My organized, civilized way.

I hate people that are soooo lazy that they drive everywhere when they can walk.  Today I was one of those people. 

At 4:30 promptly I left the house to get meet my daughter at the bus stop. Due to the fact that it was twenty degrees fahrenheit and I was freezing AND pregnant, I decided to do the unthinkable; drive to the bus stop. 

Embarassed by my behavior I climbed into our very old and beat up "banger" as we call it and drove, 250 yards, to the bus stop, ducking the entire way.

OF course this had to be the day my friend down the street decided to walk to the bus stop with her two year old to meet Emily as well. I was humiliated. and in the end, not happy with myself. I should have braved the cold. 

But I'm pregnant, tired from packing all day, and cold. 

(Did I mention I was pregnant?)

Next time I'll walk.

New Year's Resolutions

Is it too late for New Year's Resolutions? It may be the 6th of January but better late than never!

Jenny's new year's resolutions:

1) read more

2) subscribe to a newspaper and read at least three articles per day (check)

3) Blog daily (little behind on this one)

4) Learn French

Wish me luck!