1.5 + 3.5 = this

* There is something called the Parent Bloggers Network, and I am now a proud member of of it. Which means that I get to review cool, new parent products that may or may not make life as a mom easier. But one thing is for sure: I will let you know if they do with total honesty. And if there is a reference to farting involved, all the better. Because I find that farting is the answer 9 times out of 10. (Seriously, take an inconsolable Miss Dub, let her rip a few poots and – toot! – she’s good as new, though she will smell like rancid veggies for a few hours.)

* Naps are evil. As you may know, I’ve been suffering from napsomnia for a couple years now, which brought me much distress and many boring Sunday afternoons. I used to be able to log 3-4 hours when given just the right bedroom conditions. But now I’m lucky to turn off my brain for 20 minutes of shuteye. However, the cosmos aligned yesterday and I slept soundly for more than an hour. Come nighttime, however, I could not sleep from 1 to 3 a.m. I finally gave up and started reading a book that is very interesting (though the accuracy is questionable and the language is realistic so I durst not recommend it for fear you’ll think I’m a hussy). When sugarplums finally came to rest in my head, a teething Miss Dub woke up and insisted on staying up for an hour. And then getting back up for good an hour later. This resulted in a whopping 3.5 hours of sleep. Now, I know that many people promote naps as a way to ease sleep deprivation, but I’m not really seeing how my 1.5 hour nap and 3.5 sleep add up to 8 hours in any galaxy. Even the far away ones where people wear buns on the sides of their heads.

* Less than 4 hours of sleep is not advisable. Do not operate heavy machinery, my friends, including toasters and sippy cups.

* It is possible to arrive to the airport on time, have your plane arrive on time and still have your flight canceled. Why, pray tell? Because there are no pilots to fly your plane. This very thing happened to Mr. Dub the other night, forcing him to come home because they unfortunately declined his offer to fly the plane himself. (Good choice, American, good choice!) And when they say that your pilots are driving to the airport from another airport, should you worry? I mean, if they aren’t willing to fly, why should you be?

* Mean people suck. Yes, all those years of mocking the girls with attitudes but no real conviction who adorned their vehicles (usually a hatchback) with this bumper sticker must be rescinded. Because jerks who plant car bombs and drive cars into airport terminals are, well, jerks. I used take into consideration their personal circumstances, ideology and general brain-washing when these things happened, which brought me a tinge of understanding. Now, I just want to tell bad guys like this to grow up. Make a difference without violence.

* Do not ask for directions in Illinois unless you are a certified cartographer. Because it will take you longer to reach your destination than if you just wandered the streets aimlessly in search of it. No streets run continuously North/South or East/West. All streets change names so you must memorize their corresponding highway number, which is also subject to change. And if they tell you it’s at the intersection of two highways, know that there are at least three said intersections, all in different towns. Don’t ask for clarification on which it is, just keep driving. Take my word on this.

* In addition to loving labyrinth infrastructures, Midwesterners love a good bean bag toss. I had not seen or played this game since an elementary school carnival, but in the last few days I’ve seen a plethora of bean bag tosses. Like, guys with beers in one hand and bean bags in the other. Any insight, Ann? Is this to Illinois what Frisbee is to California? Or Capture the Flag is to Arizona? Or Missionary Tag is to Utah? (Also known by another, unprintable name!)

* Miss Dub is a crawling fool. This would be great if her destination wasn’t always pulling herself up onto something and then trying to fling herself onto some distant piece of furniture. Of course, if she made webs this would be fine. But she doesn’t, which is good because that would be freaky, and because I find Tobey Maguire to be the biggest sissy this side of the Mississippi. (And if you keep heading East you’d eventually hit the other side so pretty much he’s the biggest wimp in the whole, wide world. No offense, Tobey.)

* Don’t pick at your face. I promise it won’t make it better.

* Do not write posts on 3.5 hours of sleep.

HTT - In-flight edition

Welcome back, me!

Why thank you, me!

And while I would love to engage you all in a rousing travelogue of my adventures of traveling with child, I must note that my calendar says it’s Tuesday. And we all know what that means …

But in honor of my recent travels, I thought I would make today’s Hot Topic about airlines.

Flying is amazing. Sometimes when I’m in flight, I stop to realize that I’m hurling through the clouds to my destination in a fraction of the time it would take to drive the same distance. At first this thought makes me marvel at the miracle of flight, its unbelievable convenience and sheer beauty. Shortly followed by the thought that flying is about the stupidest idea ever. I mean, does hurling through the clouds sound safe? (I know, I know, more people die in car accidents than plane crashes, but at least I’m driving the car and in control.)

But unfortunately flying happens in airplanes, which come from airports, which are run by airlines, which are the most inefficient companies on this planet and possibly the entire solar system.

Yesterday, for example, our flight was scheduled to leave at 8.53 a.m. At 8:50, we still hadn’t boarded, though there was no announcement or indication of any delay. When we finally did board, no apologies were made or additional explanation, until the pilot announced as we fastened our seat belts that we would be sitting on the tarmac for at least an hour waiting for weather-related clearance in Chicago. Thankfully, we didn’t have to wait the entire hour and Miss Dub slept through most of the delay. Then, we were air bound for a 3 hour and 2 minute flight, or so the steward happily announced.

But nearly 20 minutes after hearing we were making our “final descent” we were still above the clouds. And airplanes were breaking through behind us, giving me the sense we were overshooting the airport. When I saw Lake Michigan peeking through the clouds, I knew that we were circling the airport. Of course, there was no announcement or explanation. I mean, what right would I, a passenger, have to know why my flight was being continually extended?

Finally, we landed. But our adventure had just begun. We had to get our baggage, which was delivered to the sole baggage carousel for all of U.S. Airways’ flights (at O’Hare, the nation’s busiest airport). It took over an hour to get every item of luggage and another half hour to find a way to an elevator, shuttle and out of the economy parking lot. (All which lacked signs to help navigate them.)

An empty tank of gas, rush-hour traffic and rain make our story even more sad and soggy.

But the real issue is: Why is it so hard to fly?

I understand weather. I’m all for fixing any mechanical problems. I even somewhat encourage additional screening to prevent terrorism, though we all know I prefer civil liberties to a slight increase in safety.

But what about customer service?

What about being on time?

What about telling your passengers what the heck is going on?

My favorite airline is Southwest. Cry if you want to about having to choose your seat (and the losers who insist on standing in the A line an hour before boarding), but they are fast, efficient and friendly. Plus, they dress in costumes on Halloween and have playful cockpit banter.

But the rest just make me want to gouge myself with bobby pins. Seriously, I just did. (Seriously, I didn’t.)

Granted, our bumbling flight was still faster than driving from Phoenix to Chicago. (26 hours per Google.) But our three-hour tour took us seven hours from check-in to drive out.

What about you?

Do you looove to fly, or do you loathe it?

What’s the best airline?

And what’s the worst?

Best airport?

Worst?

Oh, and horror stories are a must.

Like, now.