Category: family activities

Cold Day

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Today DPS cancelled school because it was going to be zero degrees. There was a lot of whining about the school closures on Facebook, especially from people who grew up in Wisconson and such, where they only close schools if the Packers lose and everyone is too depressed to do anything. Me personally, I’m happy to keep my kids out of weather that causes frostbite in 5 minutes.

On snow days, Eric usually stays home with the kids because his college closes as well. This time, they stayed open so I took off my 2nd day of work ever. When I don’t work, other people have to do the work I would have done, so I felt a lot of guilt about not going in, even though it’s not particularly busy right now. Then I felt guilty for feeling guilty about work and not putting my kids first. Do mommies get a guilt break, ever?

During the day so far, I think the girl has averaged about one time out per half hour because she screams when she doesn’t get what she wants. Screams. My ears hurt. I began to wish that school had just stayed open, frostbite be damned, because I just couldn’t take the screaming anymore. I know, I know, I’m terrible.

That all being said, we’ve done some fun crafty things and in some ways it’s been nice to be holed up with them, warm and cozy.

We started by making a paper snowflake garland. I had to look up how to do this, having forgotten from my childhood. It was so much fun! The boy loved doing this, and so did I. The girl did a few but got bored pretty quickly and found other pursuits.

Watching the snowflakes unfold was the most fun part!

These:

Turned into these!

Then we took some dental floss and clear tape and made a garland to hang in front of our fireplace. I think it looks just lovely–you can click to enlarge. (Full disclosure–prior to this picture, I took off of the mantelpiece: An entire deck of Uno, packing tape, 2 pairs of scissors, twine, a small stuffed animal, an old glass of water and and a knitting book.  It doesn’t really look that tidy all the time)

Then we started baking and made some cookies. The girl got sent to rewash her hands about every FIVE MINUTES because she kept licking them. I can’t attest that all cookies are 100% germ free. The baking has to kill most of them, right?

I chose thumbprint cookies thinking that there were a lot of steps they could participate in. Both kids had a lot of fun sifting flour and watching the mixer. They got a bit bored with making the dough into balls, but loved rolling them in coconut and finally thumbprinting. So, so tasty.

It is now, gratefully, naptime.

Now all I need to do is come up with some ideas for the afternoon….

New Year and Holiday Wrap Up

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Happy New Year!

Holidays were so, so fun this year.  We did our usual tradition of pierogies and started a new tradition: skiing on Christmas day.  There was no one on the mountain, the weather was beautiful, and we came home to open presents in the evening.  The boy had his first day on the mountain ever!  At the end of the day, he said, “I couldn’t stop or turn but I loved going down the mountain really fast!”  Sapana, as always, flew out for the holiday and it was so wonderful to have her here.  While she has no current plans to leave New York, I’d like to take this opportunity to point out that Denver is a fabulous place to live.

I love that the kids are old enough now to really enjoy things.  I know there’s some of you out there that are real baby people, but I’m a bigger fan of the walking/talking set.  It’s just so great to see both of them excited to decorate the tree, open presents and participate in the marathon pierogie making.

Oh! The doll! The knitted doll went over very well, and, as I suspected, was promptly named, “Baby.”  The girl received a set of baby accessories from her other aunt and was pushing her around in the stroller and putting her to sleep in the pack and play.

We also watched a few movies over Christmas, with varying reviews.  First up, “Scott Pilgrim vs. The World”–I loved it, Eric hated it, Sapana just thought it was weird.  “Get Him to the Greek”–we were expecting a “Hangover”-like comedy, and instead just got awful awful awfulness.  Three thumbs down.  “Black Swan”–creepy and scary.  Three trembling thumbs up.  And finally, an old favorite, “The Big Lebowski.”  Sapana and I were so tired we fell asleep halfway into our white russians and were only awakened by Eric’s guffaws throughout the film.  One thumb up, two lame movie snoozers.

And to finish, a wrap up of the year’s knitting and a slideshow of the holidays.  I hope everyone had a great month, and here’s looking forward to 2011!

Peace Heart

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I had just come down the stairs and heard Eric talking to someone on the phone. “Sure,” he was saying, “you can come over at 11 on Friday.”

I started to wave to him to tell him something, but he’d already hung up.

“J is coming over on Friday,” he said to me.

“But…” I tried to be neutral. “The girl has a doctor’s appointment at 11.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that!” he protested.

“Yes, you did. We had a whole conversation about it.  Remember? I said, ‘Hey can you take the girl to the doctor this Friday because I’m working?’ and you said, ‘Sure, no problem, just put it on the calendar.’ and then I said ‘Are you sure?” and you said, ‘Yes of course.'” I waved my hands frantically at the calendar we keep in the kitchen. “See?! Here it is, right here, in orange sharpie. 11AM, doctor.”

“Well, how was I supposed to remember that?” he said.

This is when my head starts to feel like it’s exploding because, you know, there’s no one around to remind me when I have to take the kids to appointments.  I just do it.

I don’t remember exactly what was said after that, but our voices were getting raised and I’m sure a few “You always” were thrown around.

In the midst of this came the boy, scowling, who shoved a small purple construction paper heart up at us.

“You have! To use! The peace heart!!!” he shouted at us.

Eric and I stopped and stared down at him, and then looked at each other and smiled.  I reached out and took the peace heart between two fingers.

“Okay,” I said, “How does this work again?”

“You hold the peace heart! And you talk about your feelings!” he shouted at us again.

Since I was holding the peace heart, I looked at Eric and began in my best marriage counseling voice, “I am upset that when I discuss plans with you and you agree to them you do not remember them later.”

Eric started to interrupt me, but the boy snapped at him, “You can only talk when you’re holding the peace heart!”

I handed the peace heart over to Eric. “I am sorry that I did not remember the doctor’s appointment.”

We kept handing back and forth and, well, got over the relatively minor argument. Of course, it’s hard to keep fighting when your 5 year old is standing between you, arms akimbo, with an expression of combined anger, disgust and disappointment on his face.  I felt like I was being dressed down by a little league coach or something.

The peace heart, clearly a product of his Montessori school, is back on the refrigerator and the boy has pulled it out for us a few times since then.

Strangely, it always seems to work.

Even if I’m not feeling particularly peaceful at the time.

Thanksgiving

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Eric had had a tradition of watching “The Last Waltz,” The Band’s last concert, on Thanksgiving and chose to resurrect it this year.

We watched it downstairs with the boy.  The girl had long since fallen asleep in our bed in her monkey-print fleece footie  jammies.  After the second interview segment in which band members talked about their lives in the 60s (think sex, drugs, rock and roll) we skipped the spoken bits and went straight to the musical performances.

The boy loved watching Van Morrison high kick around the stage in a sparkly purple jumpsuit.  He got a bit tired after that and laid down with his head in my lap.

Then The Band started to sing “Forever Young,” and, looking down at my bigger-than-I-thought-possible son, I realized that I’m not really all that young anymore.

(May God Bless and keep you always, may your wishes all come true)

The lyrics have a poignancy when you’re a parent.

(May you always do for others and let others do for you)

It’s the wishes I think every parent would have for their child.

(May you build a ladder to the stars and climb on every rung)

I looked down at the 5 year old nearly asleep in my lap, and think about all the love he brings to my life.

(May you grow up to be righteous, may you grow up to be true.)

I think of  how he wants to be a “scientist and learn everything about everything.”

(May you always know the truth and see the lights surrounding you.)

How the girl loves to touch noses, and insists on “Cheers!” and glass clinking at every meal.

(May you always be courageous, stand upright and be strong)

How proud the boy was of himself at not crying when he got his latest shots.

(May your hands always be busy, may your feet always be swift)

The mayhem on a daily basis as the kids run from the “zoo” to the “toy store,” both populated with stuffed animals.

(May you have a strong foundation when the wind of changes shift)

How the girl would scoot over to me when I went to bed and touch foreheads with me as we slept.

(May your heart always be joyful and may your song always be sung)

She wakes up with a big smile in the morning, looks at the sunrise and excitedly chirps, “Wainbow, Mommy, Wainbow!”

(May you stay forever young.)

May they both stay forever young.

May I never forget how much I have to be thankful for.

Parenting ideals

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While not an original idea by any means, I was definitely a better parent before I had children.

I’d see a child misbehaving in public and watch how his awful parent handled it, knowing that my child would NEVER act that way and if they did I’d handle it SO much better than his terrible mother.   There was a whole list of things of things I definitely would or wouldn’t do as a parent.  Among them, my child would never wear anything with a character on it, would never order off the children’s menu, and would never misbehave in public.  Cut to a few years later when I’m ordering mac and cheese for my screaming toddler who’s wearing a “Toy Story” shirt.

I think everyone has certain ideas of what is most important to them as a parent.  I’m not talking about big things like religion–more the little weird things that we think will make us exceptional parents, not just average ones.  Things we get to be all sanctimommious about.  Some people refuse to feed their child anything jarred.  Some insist on their kid listening only to Mozart. I’ve heard of one woman who is so anti-processed food that she even makes her own ketchup.  Her own KETCHUP, people.  In the end, I don’t think most of these make the huge difference that we like to think they do.

I’m not without my own set of parenting  idiosyncrasies, though I’d never go so far as to make ketchup. (Now I’m curious. Wow, this sounds delicious.  I might have to backtrack on that ketchup comment.)

One of my big things before I had kids was TV.  Surely, when I had kids, my precious puppykins would never watch any TV until they were at least 3 years old.  For the boy, we held out until he was a bit closer to 2 years old before he was watching anything on a regular basis, and even then never saw a full length movie until he was closer to 3.  The only way that we made it this long is because I’m not a stay-at-home mom.  If I was, the kids would have had their daily TV hour starting in infancy to provide me with some sanity. The girl was corrupted much younger and already runs around asking, “Watch teebee? Nemo? Shaaks? Scaow me!” (Translation: “Can I watch ‘Finding Nemo’ in its entirety? Those sharks are somewhat frightening but brilliant representations of how we all face our own demons.” God, she’s bright.)

Still, I never quite understood the need for having a television in the car.  I HATE televisions in cars.  I don’t understand why children need constant entertainment, and electronic at that.  What’s wrong with talking to other people in the car, looking out the window, reading books or even (gasp!) being bored for a few moments and letting your mind wander?  Usually my kids grab a book to read in the car or we have some nice chats.

Recently, though, my ideal was tested.  I drove from Denver to Moab by myself with both children.  I’d rented a minivan so that my parents, who were vacationing there, could ride back with us.

It’s one thing to be able to go for short car ride with small kids without resorting to television, but would I make it for 7 hours?

My first plan was to not even let on that there was any TV capability in the car.  This lasted all of two minutes before the boy checked out the car and started pushing on panels and yelped, “There’s a TV!! Can we watch TV?!”

Sigh.  I said that we don’t watch TV in the car–we look around, we talk to each other, we read books, we listen to music. Disappointed, the boy strapped himself into his carseat and we took off.  Truthfully, I fully expected to play a movie, but wanted to see how long they’d make it first.  Or how long I’d make it.

The first hour and a half was fine–they read books, played with a few toys, and looked for bighorn sheep on the side of the highway.  We stopped in Vail for food, which ended unceremoniously with us racing through Vail village to get back to our car while holding the girl away from me as far as I could. In a moment of great parenting brilliance I’d decided not to bring a spare diaper. She pooped once and I figured she could go commando because surely, she wouldn’t poop a second time.  I was wrong.  Considering how different we look, I half expect some people thought I was kidnapping a little blond girl and was waiting for someone to call the cops.

The rest of the trip was dotted with a few stops for bathroom breaks and gas.  Glenwood springs is beautiful to drive through.  Then we crossed into Utah and hit 2 hours of the most boring drive I’ve seen.  It almost rivals Kansas in lack of interest.

I kept waiting for the inevitable, “Can we watch TV now?” from the back seat.

But it never came–we made the entire way there (and later the entire way back) without once popping in a video.

Unbelieveable.  And you know what? The ride was actually fun. We listened to a few science podcasts, sang along to Dan Zanes and the Dino5, and had some good conversations.  (As my Facebook friends know, my favorite one began with the boy asking me, “Hey, Mom, could we get a dead body sometime to make a mummy out of it?”)

More importantly, I now have one pre-parenting ideal that I’ve been able to carry through with, which clearly makes me an exceptional parent.

And now I have to go watch TV.  30 Rock is on!

Jiffy Jaffy Smiley

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Knitting takes a bit of a backseat over the summer, what with gardening, hiking, the triathlon, and the fact that it just seems so warm.  Still, I don’t think I could stop entirely and did manage to get a few things done over the summer.

Meet the newest member of the family, Jiffy Jaffy Smiley, or just Jaffy for short.

This little giraffe has a lot of personality and is very popular.  He gets chair rides, gets read to, and goes swinging.

Jaffy was well loved and fought over by both children.  I intended him for the girl (hence the pink/purple), but the boy LOVES him.  He carries him around and took him on our recent trip to Moab.  On the way home, the boy uttered those dreaded words, “Mommy, I have to throw up.  NOW.”  I’m going about 75 mph on I-70.  I try to pull over as fast as possible, but as I’m swinging the car over, I feel a few splatters of vomit on my neck.  I get out of the car and look at my poor boy, covered in peanut-butter scented disgustingness.  Awesome.  I stand there for a moment, not sure what to do, and then a 16-wheeler rolls by me and I realize that I’m standing in a really, really dumb spot.  I quickly get back in the car and we get off at the next exit, thankfully only a quarter mile ahead.  In the parking lot of the gas station, we do our best to clean up the floor of the rental car and change the boy’s clothes.  My parents are in the car with me, so I have help.

That’s when the boy sees Jaffy.  He’d been holding Jaffy and the poor giraffe had taken the brunt of the projectile.

You know those scenes in war movies, where there’s two buddy soldiers, and they get through a firefight?  At the end, one of them looks forward and says to the other something like, “Jimmy? Man, I didn’t think we were going to make it through that one.” He then turns to look at Jimmy, and sees that his head’s been blown off. “Jimmy?! Jimmy?! Nooooo!!!!!”

That’s what it was like when the boy saw Jaffy, soaking wet in slimy goo.  Up until that point, he’d only seen the clothes and the book that he’d gotten wet. “Jafffffyyyyy!!!” he cried. I did my best to rinse the toy off in the gas station bathroom, stuck him in a plastic bag and tied the top.  I tried not to cry as I thought about the months of work that could be lost in one fell swoop.  Worst case, I supposed, I could take him apart and restuff him.

Back at home, I hosed him off in the utility sink and then stuck him in the washing machine.  I love Lion Brand Cotton-Ease for this exact reason–you can just toss it in the washer and it looks brand new when it comes out.  He’s stuffed with a synthetic fill so that was okay in the wash, too.

After 45 minutes, out he came, smelling clean and fresh and ready for more play.  I think of it as the resurrection of Jaffy.

I’m delighted that he survived and is so well loved.  It’s really fun making toys, like you’re creating this new being, though it felt weird to be sewing into him, like it hurt or something.

Or maybe I’ve watched Toy Story one too many times.

Fashion Plate

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Since I usually look as if I just walked off a Milan runway, it will come as a shock to some of you that I wasn’t always so stylish.  I found this treasure of a picture in a stack of family photos that my parents sent to me. Picture is circa 1991, and clearly taken at Caesar’s Palace in Vegas.

I mean, really, could we possibly be any dorkier? I feel bad for the poor gladiator, who was the only one appropriately dressed for the occasion.

Playground blues

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At the park today, I’m pushing the girl on the swing.  My boy was off on the play structure.  The nanny pushing the boy in the swing next to us looked at me and asked in a friendly voice, “Where are you from?”

I almost immediately knew where this conversation was leading, but thought I’d wait just to be sure.

“India,” I reply, giving the untrue answer for which most people are looking. “Where are you from?”

“Ethiopia. Oh, Asia? Are you a student here or something?”

“No, I usually work but I have the week off, so I’m hanging out with the kids during the day.”

“Oh, it’s just that I don’t see many Indian babysitters around here.”

“Oh, I’m their mom,” I say with a smile, gesturing in the general direction of the play structure to indicate that there is another child of mine in the vicinity.

The woman looks at the blonde, light-skinned girl that I’m pushing in the swing and says, somewhat incredulously, “She’s your daughter?!”

“Yup!”

Truthfully, I’ve been expecting this and am quite surprised it hasn’t happened sooner.  I mean, look at us (pic from another day):

I know that nowadays families come in all sorts of mixed colors, but the general truth of darker-skinned nannies with lighter-skinned babies largely holds true at the Denver playgrounds, at least in my experience.  Should I have been offended? I wasn’t, really.  I have to admit to myself, though, that if the person who had mistaken me for a nanny had been a white woman, I would have been entirely offended.  I’m not saying that that’s right, but it would have been true.  The funny thing is, I make the exact same assumption that I don’t want people to make about me–that if I see a dark woman out with a pale baby, she must be a nanny.

This won’t be the last time this happens, I’m sure.

There was something else about the exchange that I found a little disturbing, to be honest.

I’m old enough to be slightly flattered that she thought I was a student.

What’s next? Lighting up at being carded?

brooklyn/manhattan

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After a great few days in Westchester, we headed to Brooklyn to spend a few days with my sister.  We hopped on the train and the girl waved goodbye to her new friends, who waved from the platform.  At every single station from Westchester to Grand Central, the girl looked at me and asked, “Friends? Where go?” She didn’t quite get the principle that we were at different stations every time…

We met up with Sapana –who, I’ve since learned, is called “Panda” by most of her workforce after multiple clients have written to the office for “Sapanda.” That’s how I’ll refer to her for the rest of this entry, and perhaps for the rest of the blog–anyway, we met up with Panda at Grand Central and dropped our stuff off at her office and headed to the Natural History Museum.  That place is HUGE.  Massive.  We got lost quite a bit until we got our bearings and made our way to the dinosaurs.

It’s nearly impossible to get a decent picture in there, partly because the girl never stops moving:

and because the lighting is terrible! (This is remedied by the awesome flash that my parents got me for my birthday, which I can’t wait to try out!)

Look at that hadrosaur!

We hopped on the train back to Brooklyn, and got to Panda’s apartment.  It’s a rather large (by NYC standards) 3 bedroom apartment, which she shares with two other people.

Do you remember being in college, or living away from home  (or if you still live at home, this is every day), when your mom would come visit and would, well, go into mom-mode?  I don’t remember this because my mother never once visited any place that I lived away from home until the day I left, so I never got this benefit. (Sorry, Mom, but it’s true.) My roommates’ parents, however, would often visit and I’d see the mom-ing take place.  Shortly after arrival would be a trip to Target and back would come bags and bags of shower curtains, and floor mats, and furniture.  When I was in high school, we got the mom-ing from my aunt! She came to visit us in California and was apparently so horrified that we used reusable sectioned plastic dishes as dinnerware that shortly after her departure, boxes and boxes of matching Mikasa dinnerware sets showed up at the house.  I used to wonder how one knew how to do that stuff–was there a mom class that you took?

Apparently, I’ve taken this class at some point because my first instinct on going to Panda’s place was to take her to Target, Ikea, and Bed Bath and Beyond and buy new stuff for her.  She’s been there for 9 months but on a shoestring and hasn’t been able to get a lot of the home furnishings she’d like.  We didn’t manage to go because it was just impossible with a two year old in tow, but I’ve learned that sometime after actually becoming a parent, I’ve become a Mom. Fantastic.

The next day we went to the Prospect Park Zoo and met up with Eric’s family, who drove up from Pennsylvania!

Here’s the girl with her adorable cousins:

The older kids were so good with the little girl, and they all clearly loved being together.  The Zoo is a bit scaled-down from your typical zoo which was perfect.  There’s a petting zoo that the girl just loved.  I think she fed almost all the animals except the alpaca and some dwarf cow thing, because they were over 4 times her size.  Anything smaller than that, she had no problem with.

The next day, we took a visit to the MoMA. The girl was NOT very impressed, though I did get her to sing “Twinkle Twinkle” while looking at “Starry Night,” which I got a kick out of.  

Then the girl posed in front of a wall describing all her finer points:

After that, a trip to Central Park and then, finally, back to Brooklyn to pass out.  Panda and I were exhausted, so we thought we’d watch a movie together and just choose from one of her roommate’s 100+ titles.  Unfortunately, this particular roommate is a documentary producer-type and doesn’t own movies, only films.  We ended up watching “Memento” and going to sleep with a quite unsettled feeling.

The next day the girl and I bid farewell to Panda and set off for Denver again.  The flight home was not as much fun, and culminated in the girl spitting into her hands and then grooming herself like a cat.

It felt good to get home.

A few thoughts after the trip as a whole:

I’ve been to New York plenty of times, and have always loved going there and just feeling the general excitement of the place.  Being there with a two year old is an entirely different phenomenon, however.  I was struck by how much of just getting around was a struggle.  Here, we live in the city but  aren’t fighting the crowds and noise right outside our doorstep every moment of every day.  Even if you’re a wealthy New Yorker and live in a beautiful apartment overlooking something green, as soon as you get on the street you’re back in the middle of it all.  And as for that “something green,” Denver is rife with green spaces and flora, even just in the front yards.  In New York, those spaces are relegated to small community gardens, balconies, some roofs, and Central Park.  You have to make an effort to get there–it’s not just in front of you all the time.  Before I had kids, I never would have noticed these things, since my main focus was on museums and, well, the bars and clubs.

I loved travelling with my daughter.  It’s so different to visit places as an adult and make an impression of them, and then think about those same places through your child’s eyes.  I know that she’ll remember little, if anything, of this trip when she’s older, but there is value in the experience and the exposure.  I don’t buy the argument that you shouldn’t travel with your kids before they can remember it–I mean, if you extend that argument why expose them to anything before memory sets in?  The girl LOVED all the newness and the thrill of being somewhere new, taking the train, having a daily adventure.  We give our children experiences that shape and form who they are as adults, even if the experience itself becomes nothing but a faded impression.

And one last thought–all you second and beyond children, your suspicions have been correct all these years.  You completely missed out.  The girl’s language developed exponentially during this one week trip, and I think it’s because she had my undivided attention.  I’ve realized ever since the boy came back home that he gets about 80% of my verbal attention and the girl gets the rest.  (Eric and I basically just communicate in grunts at this point, so that doesn’t factor in.)  It really made me realize that both Eric and I need to spend more one-on-one time with our small one.

Overall, a fantastic trip! I loved getting back to my garden, and can’t wait to update you all with the next post!

NYC-Westchester

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The girl and I took a trip last week to NYC, first to visit my good friend Rebecca in Westchester, and then onto visit my sister in Brooklyn.  I’ll talk about the Brooklyn half in the next post because this one gets a bit long.  Stick with it though, for the incredible, never-before-heard, toddler travel tip that will guarantee a smooth journey with your small one.

First, a few notes about the girl.

This is a 2 year old who skipped naps, skipped meals, ate all sorts of sugary crap, had leaky diapers, was a stranger in a strange land, and through it all, was her usual smiling self.  She is just remarkable.  If I had subjected her brother at the same age to all these disruptions, he would have been an absolute disaster. No fun at all.  With few exceptions, the girl was a pleasure to travel with and clearly loved the excitement of being somewhere new and making new friends.

We got into town last Wednesday night and went to Rebecca’s very nice house in Westchester and played with her delightful kids for three days.  Her daughter Sari, 51/2, is a real take-charge type (just like her mom) and made sure that the girl was well attended to.  At one point, my girl was outfitted with a baby-filled stroller, toy cell phone, purse, and play shoes.  Sari took one look at her and said, “You’re the mommy now, so you need a camera.  Here–let me get you one” and promptly plopped a camera around her neck, to my little one’s delight. This is the best picture I got of her, so you can’t properly see how adorable Sari is.  You can, however, see Rebecca’s playroom, complete with trampoline (!), that my girl went gaga over.

The next day we went to the Children’s Museum in Norwalk, Connecticut.  It’s a fabulous kids museum with a lot to do for the toddler set, which is a nice change since so many Children’s museums are often more geared to the 5-9 year old set, with the exception of a fomite-filled infant/toddler play area, from which your child is sure to bring home some novel germ and infect the entire family.  Of course, as luck would have it, 3 big school groups showed up at the same time we did and the place was insane.  The kids didn’t seem to mind at all, but it was maddening for Rebecca and I.

There was a great water play area.  My child is the one who refused to wear the protective apron.  See if you can spot her.

Sorry for the blurred out faces–it’s a little creepy, I know.  You know what I always think, though, is “What if someone is in the Witness Protection Program?” Then I go and post their picture on my little site with identifying local information and the mafia tracks them down and kills them.  I couldn’t live with myself.

The outdoor play area is awesome.  It’s a big area filled with giant blocks, noodles, and walls that can all be built together to make a DIY play structure.

See the older kids making the incredible sculpture in the background? Those were the some school group members I had to mildly chastise for trying to run our children over  in the “Tot Spot.”  When they all came out for lunch onto the playground, it felt like the Running of the Bulls had been let onto a field of baby bunnies.  Rebecca and I saw the doors open, and as if in slow motion, we saw the 8 year olds exploding out the doors. We jumped and swept our baby bunnies into our arms, seconds away from being trampled on by  size 6 sneakers.  After the bulls had been appropriately shooed away from the bunny field, our kids went back to playing peacefully.  On a side note, you may also notice that my daughter has undergone a wardrobe change from the water play area.  You figure it out.

Here’s Rebecca’s son, Donny, having a ball.  He would keep bringing in more and more foam blocks into the little fortress with the girl, and she would get increasingly disgruntled about it and promptly pick them up and throw them out as fast as she could.  It became very comical.

For me, it was just so nice to be around an old friend.  Bec and I have an easy time together and it was so relaxing to be with someone that I feel totally comfortable around.  I find that as I get older, it gets harder and harder to make that same sort of friend.  I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that Rebecca and I spent hours and hours together in medical school since we lived together, and also went through that difficult time together, which bonds you to someone.  Now with the kids, I just don’t have that same amount of free time or the ability to just sit on the couch for hours with a girlfriend watching dumb TV shows and talking about nothing.

I was pretty proud of myself for being a single parent travelling with a small child and not checking on any luggage.  I used bungee cords to attach the carseat to the carryon bag, had a backpack on my back and had one hand free.  As it turns out, the girl likes to walk everywhere and I didn’t have to carry her in the airport.  On the way over, the girl slept for an hour and a half, then woke up, drank juice, ate food and played with everything in the back of tricks I had brought.  The magical thing for small kids, I’ve learned, is stickers.  Lots and lots of stickers kept her occupied for a long time.  I also bought a magnetic playboard that was fun for a bit, as well as crayons and a few books.  It was one of those public “What a good mom I am” moments.  (It was not repeated on the flight back and I got plenty of “Why doesn’t she do something about that screaming child?” stares.  I’ll go into that the next post. For now, I’ll pretend like it didn’t happen.)

Are you ready for the never-before-heard toddler travel tip? It’ll change your life, I swear.  If you want to have easy travel with a small child, the trick is to….

Give birth to an easy child.

That’s it.  Just make sure that when you conceive, you are creating a future non-fussy, loves-to-sleep-and-eat, basically happy creature and you too can have many future enjoyable journeys.  You heard it here first.

Stay tuned for the Brooklyn half of the ex-po-tition!