weekender

"It is better to travel well than to arrive." - Buddha

Well, shit. I'm basically screwed then because these days I consider it a successful trip if we all manage to arrive at our destination in one piece without attracting the attention of TSA, FAA, CPS, SDPD, or any other acronym that could land my ass in jail.

Anyway.

Before DM and I started a family, we loved to travel, and we swore that (among many other things) we wouldn't let having kids slow us down. Not only did we want to continue to explore, we hoped to foster the same wanderlust and sense of adventure in our children. We wanted them to see and appreciate life beyond the bounds of their own backyard.

And that's all well and good. But. Holy Mary Mother of God. Have you tried traveling with children? There's no two ways about it. Traveling with kids slows you down. Like, a lot. I mean, take the amount of time and baggage you think you'll need, and multiply it times three. Or maybe five. I'm not saying we've changed our aspirations, or that we can't still achieve them, but like most things having to do with children, it's definitely going to look a little different than I originally intended.

We started our travel immersion progam early-on, and we take baby steps. This past weekend we went to visit our old besties (not that they aren't our besties anymore, but they moved 400 miles away, so they're on probation ;)) Because Jack had T-ball and DM is the coach, the plan was for Colby and me to fly out late Friday night, and Jack and DM to join us after T-ball on Saturday. Jack was aware of this plan, and was fine with it, until three minutes before Colby and I were about to leave, when he threw THE EVER LOVIN' MOTHER of all fits. He literally acted like I told him he was never going to see us ever again. He tends to the dramatic, but this was a whole new level of distress. It was such that I actually called the airline to see if it would be possible to switch his flight from Saturday to that night (like, 2 hours hence). Jack, sobbing, asked, "Arwe you weally calling da pilot to get me a ticket, Mom???" The ever-helpful Alaska Airlines representative was more than happy to switch J's ticket, for a change in fare AND a hefty fee. I was like, eff that.

So, we loaded Colby and our bags into the car. Jack continued to scream bloody murder, which got both Colby and the dog going, while DM and I were hollering at each other to be heard over the ruckus. I got in the car and started to back out of the driveway but for some reason the vision of DM physically restraining a sobbing, kicking, screaming, heartbroken Jack was just too much for me, so I stopped the car. I got out and told DM to put Jack in the car and drive us to the airport, so that I could fly, by myself with two kids, at 9:30pm on a Friday night (and DM could coach T-ball the next day even though his own kid wasn't present, ha!) I am ridiculous and insane. On the way to the airport, Colby starts losing her mind (I WANT MY SHOES ON AND OFF! I WANT TO HOLD YOUR HAND BUT ALSO I DO NOT!), and I busted out an emergency pacifier that we'd nixed two months ago. Oh well!

We got to the airport, got our boarding passes, got through security, and got to the gate with very little fuss. (Almost) everyone is so kind and helpful when you are a hot sweaty mess with two baby giants in tow. One guy about my dad's age who was traveling with his wife asked what he could do to help, and they were kind of my real-life guardian angels the entire trip. After hand-checking our stroller for explosives, the sweet TSA agent brought it over and said: "I tried to empty the sand out of it, but there was a lot." Ha. Story of my life. (Do you remember learning about asymptotes in geometry? And how they will never actually be zero no matter how close it looks? That is like sand in my life. And pee. And snot.) Then she gave the kids sticker-badges which was a big hit. God/Allah/Yahweh/Buddha bless their kind souls.

Things went so smoothly (relatively speaking) that we got to the gate with over an hour to spare, which, if you have kids you know is not ideal (though still preferable to being the last a-holes on the plane!) Luckily it was late enough that the place was pretty deserted, and they were tired enough that they'd lost some of their fight, but not so tired that they were in "the danger zone." For a while they were pretty content to stand at the window and watch the goings-on out on the runway.

This might be a good time to mention Colby's recent habit of calling out each and every vehicle she sees. She particularly loves trucks. Only, she pronounces it "phuck." Now, this hasn't yet been much of a problem, and I'll even go so far as to say we find it pretty darn hilarious in the comfort and privacy of our family sedan. But. I can now attest to the fact that it's more than a little embarrassing when it happens in a well-populated but nearly silent public place. "PHUCK! BIG PHUCK! BLACK PHUCK! WHITE PHUCK! WHERE DAT PHUCK GO?! C'MON, PHUCK!" O. M. G. What can you do?!? I was just like, "Ohhh, yes, truck. Yes, I see that truck!" I guess I should be thankful she didn't simultaneously want to "shit" [sit] and drink her "douche" [juice]. *Sigh.*

Meanwhile, Mr. J took his little die cast Southwest Airlines airplane out of his backpack and started to play with it. Then he began narrating, as he is wont to do. "Dis is not a Souf-west Aiowlines aiowplane. Dis is a Alaska Aiowlines aiowplane. It's bwoken because it doesn't has a tail wing. Dis bwoken Alaska Aiowlines aiowplane is gonna cwash and burin and all the peopow arwe gonna get dead." WTF?!?! "Ummm, that sounds really scary and awful, let's not talk like that, okay?" J: "I'm just pwe-tending, Mom." Me: "Okay." J: "I'm just pwetending dat dis Alaska Aiowlines aiowplane is gonna cwash and catch on fi-ow and die." Me: "Hey guys! Wanna read a book?" OMG. I have NO CLUE where he gets this shit?! And if I were to provide closed-captioning for the thought bubbles of the people around me, I imagine it'd go something like "May I please sit in a row that does not contain a mini sociopath? Super, thanks!"

When we got on the plane, the guy in front of us, who had apparently just changed his seat, looked back at me and my baby/luggage juggling act and said loudly to his travel partner: "Ugh. Maybe I should switch back to my other seat." Hey, twat-waffle! News flash! You were a kid once, too! And you were probably a dick even then! Why can't you be like the rest of civilized non-breeder society and just quietly give me the stink-eye?!

There was one other kid on the flight, probably about one-and-a-half, the same age as Colby Jean. I generally like it when there are other children on the flight because it decreases the odds that mine will be the a-holes, but this time it wasn't really working out for me. They were letting their kid run up and down the aisle, and in between, the dad alternated between tossing the kid up in the air and "flying" him around in a vigorous game of "airplane." Really it was a veritable circus act on a Bombardier Q400. I was like, Dude! Do you not realize that the only reason my children are sitting still is because I have told them that if they get up the pilot will come back here and arrest them put them on a time-out? You are completely destroying all suspension of disbelief here. Normally I subscribe to a live-and-let-live, "whatever you need to do to keep your child from screaming his face off and ruining everyone's day" mentality, but when your antics f*ck up my ability to blatantly lie to my children in order to get them to behave, we have a problem ;)

Anyway, we arrived in one piece (no fiery death or dismemberment, I am pleased to report), and I didn't even have to break out the electronics, so that ought to give you some indication as to how smoothly things went! I pray our cross-country flight to the east coast for Thanksgiving is as painless!!!

Even more importantly, we had as perfect a weekend as you can have with five rugrats under foot, cementing our conviction that traveling with children is worth it, even though the journey is infinitely more painful than the destination.

More travel quotes, if you're into that kind of thing:

"Not all who wander or lost." (My fave) - JRR Tolkien.

"He travels the fastest who travels alone." - Rudyard Kipling. You're tellin' me. God have mercy. Honestly. Somebody could cure cancer in the time it takes to get through security with toddlers in tow.

"Reminds me of my safari in Africa. Somebody forgot the corkscrew and we had to live on nothing but food and water." - W.C. Fields. That sounds almost as bad as parenting without alcohol.

"The World is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page." - Saint Augustine. Granted, if you're traveling with small children, the other pages might be laced with tears, ear-piercing screams, boogers, and mean mugs from your fellow travelers. But then you get to the really good parts ;)

"A journey is a person in itself; no two are alike. And all plans, safeguards, policing, and coercion are fruitless. We find that after years of struggle that we do not take a trip; a trip takes us." - John Steinbeck. Ain't that the truth! And a trip with kids takes you by the throat and nearly strangles you to death, but when you get through to the other side, you really appreciate being alive!

More Steinbeck: "A journey is like marriage. The certain way to be wrong is to think you control it." Wait. I can't control my marriage??? ;)

"The traveler sees what he sees, the tourist sees what he has come to see." - G.K. Chesterton. I'm learning that travelers with children see public bathrooms. Lots of bathrooms. Incidentally, G.K. Chesterton is my most favorite quotee ever, because it is he who said "Poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese."

And this -

Photo by Seattle Dredge of SeattlesTravels.com
This and several of the quotes found on Voyage Vixens

J: WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!!!!!
C: PHUUUUUCK!
 

the biggest mistake you will never regret

for some reason Blogger's version of pacific standard time is ahead of reality so it's kind of like i'm talking to you from the FUTURE....

so. one of my brother's friends got a tubal ligation when she was 20. she was that certain she didn't want to have kids, ever. she recently spent some time with me and my kids which may have served to reaffirm the decision in her mind. still. i'm extremely curious about what kind of doctor would perform this sort of irreversible medical procedure on a 20 year old who, no offense, doesn't know shit. [i know this comes off as paternalistic and patronizing, but i'm only speaking from experience, as a person who once thought she knew all of the things, but recently discovered she does not know any of the things.... and i think this is a pretty common path to (dis)enlightenment.] anyway, that's a different issue altogether.

then, a single (or rather, serially dating) male friend of mine asked me whether i thought he would someday regret not having kids. i got to thinking about the decision whether or not to have kids in the context of this blog post/article/open letter that has been floating around online for years and keeps resurfacing. (it has been reposted eleventy billion times all over the interwebs as early as 2008 but i can't seem to find who actually wrote it.) a girlfriend of mine just posted it again. it's basically a mom and her grown daughter, and the daughter "half-jokingly" says she's taking a survey on whether she and her husband should have a baby. the mom says "it will change your life" and the daughter replies, "i know, no more sleeping in, no more spontaneous vacations..." but the mom is like, gurrrrrrl, that will be the LEAST of your concerns! just kidding :) she goes on to talk about all the ways that motherhood will change you - ways that you wouldn't have believed in a million years and ways that you won't understand until you realize that those changes have already occurred. the way it's written, the mom appears to keep the inner dialogue to herself - because, to be honest - it's not something you could ever adequately explain, even if you tried. so instead, she simply says, "you will never regret it."

and i think she's right. maybe my personal experience and sample pool are misleading, but i know a lot of people with kids. people who had "oops" babies at 18. people who had "oops" babies at 45. people who tried for years before finally having a baby (or three!) people who always wanted babies and got pregnant every time they tried. people who couldn't have babies and adopted. people who could have babies and adopted. of all of the baby-makers, baby-bakers and baby-caretakers i know, i have never met anyone who regretted having children, whether it was a well-thought-out decision or a total surprise. as i've said before, i may have momentary regrets, for a minute, an hour, or the duration of a cross country flight, but all in all, my kids (and their co-creator ;)) are, hands-down, the best parts of my world. i was never one of those girls who always dreamed of being a mommy, but when i thought about my future, there were two kid-shaped spots in it. (until i had one. then that double-wide spot shrank down to a single. but we ultimately braved baby #2 and i could not be happier or more thankful that we did.) plus, when i was in 5th grade that game MASH told me i was going to have two kids, so obviously, my fate was sealed ;)

though baby boy was a wee bit of a surprise, i'm assuming the infamous "biological clock" would have started ticking eventually. in any event, we would have started trying sooner rather than later, because we knew someday we wanted to be parents, and also because both my Ob-Gyn and my former employer had recently told me i better get on it because my eggs were rotting. anyway, the point is, if i could do it all again, i wouldn't change a thing. (well, i might change one tiny part - to wait until after (or during!) the month-long belated honeymoon trip to Costa Rica and Nicaragua - as opposed to finding out two days before we left! i'm still campaigning for a do-over. ;))

but the bottom line is, being a mom is the best thing, EVER. unfortunately, it is also the WORST thing ever. i read a quote once - "motherhood is the only way to experience heaven and hell at the same time." truer words were never spoken. it melts your heart and kicks your ever-lovin ass. anyone who says different is drunk, high, or LYING. but at the end of the day, you'll never regret it. i don't know if it's hormones or pheromones or Stockholm Syndrome or pregnancy-induced psychosis or all of the above, but once you drink that koolaid, there's just no turning back.

the question is.... what if you don't drink the koolaid? i've seen another quote (i love me some quotes) that says something along the lines of "people with kids and people without kids are always feeling sorry for the other.." but i think that's only half true. maybe child-free people don't know what they're missing, but i, for one, do know what i'm missing! lazy mornings. naps. a clean house. the luxury of deciding what i want to do today. spontaneity. rowdy sex during the daylight hours. vacations. (i'm talking about vacations, not a "family trips.") reading a book on the couch or having a cheesy movie marathon on a rainy day. peeing alone. self-indulgent sick days. deciding to have wine and popcorn for dinner (or breakfast! sub mimosas for wine, obv). sunbathing without being interrupted every 13 seconds to save one of my kids from drowning. i better stop before i go jump out my 18th floor window. oh wait. i don't have a window. phew, lol.

i saw an ad on TV recently - i think it was for expedia. they were walking up to strangers in a park and saying hey, i have this ticket to Fiji (or Australia or Japan or wherever it was), it leaves in 3 hours, wanna go? most people said no. but someone said yes (or at least, a paid actor made me believe he was "Joe 9-to-5" and he said "Hell yes!")... sigh.... that will never be me again. at least, not for the next 16 years, six months, and 5 days ;) i need at least 2 weeks' notice to schedule a happy hour. transcontinental vacation? fuhgeddaboutit. that's just not my life anymore. and while i wouldn't trade what i have for the world, i sure do miss parts of that old life! which is why, when friends ask me if i think they'll regret not having kids, i'm like, "Hell no!" now, i'm not necessarily advocating making that decision permanently at the age of 20. but if you're of "that age" and you're feeling the pressure from mom or grandma or your perfect happily married sister who's on her 4th angel baby and you're wondering whether you should have kids "before it's too late," then my answer to you is a resounding "NO!" one of my besto's has a rule = "No Shoulds." try it! it'll change your life! and of all the things in the entire universe, the decision whether or not to reproduce is probably the best possible place to employ this simple philosophy. if you want them, by all means, get busy! if not, or if you're just on the fence about it, or maybe you don't but feel like you "should," then don't do it! i think i can safely say that your life will be infused with plenty of passion, love and meaning, and hey, if for any reason you need a little kid fix, i will happily loan my tiny terrorists to you any day of the week. i also think i may have seen some for rent or sale in Tijuana. just kidding. sort of.

this same logic also applies to the "should we have a second child or just have the one and only?" decision, which, apparently, draws nearly as much BS as the decision to remain child-free. i don't really understand that at all. it's such a personal decision. i mean, i'm sorry, but, whose uterus are we talking about here?! you might as well be advising me which brand of tampons to use, for all the stake you have in the decision, only, in this case, the tampons cost at least $241,080 and are an 18+ year commitment.

seriously though. i can't even pretend to understand the stress and turmoil this societal/familial pressure causes, especially for a female of child-bearing age. i have some friends (men and women, single and couples) who have decided not to have kids. notably, nobody really gives the guys any flak. it's always the ones with the uteri that get it. you would not believe some of the shit people say! family members, and even complete strangers. it's appalling. i wish i could be there to give the speakers a violent shake and say, do you think that is helpful??? AT ALL??? but you can't let someone bully you into a decision like that. also, FYI, in case you can't tell by the rapid proliferation of wrinkles and gray hair and the mismatched flip flops and the magic marker cheek- and forehead-tattoos and the declining IQ and the eternal state of frazzle - this shit's freaking hard as f*ck. i would not recommend it if you're just looking for a new hobby. try pilates or get a gerbil instead.

or a hedgehog. omg. LOOK AT IT!

* i asked my brother to ask his friend if it was okay to write about some of our convos on the blog. he was like, "i'll ask her but i'm sure it's fine. you gotta use non-baby blog fodder where you can get it!" ha! don't be silly, brother. obviously i'll still find a way to make this about children ;)
[update: my brother just read this and informed me (out of some sense of obligation to his friend or to the maligned medical professional, i'm not sure ;)) that there was a pre-existing condition as well as psychological counsel that went into his friend's decision, she didn't just show up at a doc-in-the-box on tubes-tied-tuesday. sorry. i am not an investigative journalist ;)]
** update #2 - my "serially dating" (male) friend mentioned above just asked me "Can you get pregnant on birth control?" Me: "If you do not take it at the same time every day as directed, yes." Him: "Shit. I had unprotected sex with this girl I just started dating. But she showered afterwards so that helps, right?" ummmmmmmmm............ wait. what? it helps her SMELL BETTER. it does not WASH THE SPERM OUT OF HER VAGINA!!!!!
*** by the way, i hope no part of this post comes off as "oh people without kids just don't get it" (except this ^ guy. ya gotta love 'im, but he clearly does not get it, and by "it," i mean, basic anatomy, biology, and life). but, there are some wonderful and terrible things about parenthood that you can't know until you live through them, just as there are things i will never know again, e.g., what it is like to have expendable income, have uninterrupted conversations with grown-ups about grown-up things, get dressed without someone pointing out that my belly is "squishy," my butt "looks funny," or dumping the entire contents of my underwear drawer on the floor, and hey, maybe even use the bathroom without having to hear a play-by-play. in fact, i actually get some of my best parenting advice from people without kids. something about not being "in the shit" (literally and figuratively) gives them some useful perspective and insight. and/or the fact that they have access to 63% more brain cells than i do.


this is funny. from momlogic.com on the parents zone.
i like that it highlights my one major qualification for being a mom -
i <3 disneyland!!!

fostering your child's independence at the expense of your overpriced heath ceramics

more talk about preschool and poop. apparently my new metier.

the new preschool is all about the kids' independence, self-confidence, "emergent learning," positive discipline... blah blah blah. at orientation they had homemade play dough (and they were weirdly obsessed with the smell of it. they kept being like, "oooh, did you smell it? how good does it smell? what do you think it smells like? eh? eh?" ummmm... it smells like... play dough? for a minute i had a weird flashback to college and i thought, omigod, is there pot in the play dough?? there wasn't. i don't think. we didn't eat any. also? my hands keep writing douche not dough. is that bad that my fingers engage in rote name calling?)

anyway, they had scissors and knives out for cutting the play dough. because they "trust" that the children will "rise to the occasion." alright. good on ya. i hope your liability policy covers lefty scissor lacerations and getting shanked with a plastic shiv (shivved with a shank?) i tried to proactively manage the situation by explaining to J$ that he is in preschool because he is such a big boy and that is why at preschool, and only at preschool, he gets to play with things like scissors and knives. but that cup o' independence has already runneth over. last night he threw a holy terror of a tantrum because i told him he could not use a steak knife to spread butter. "I WAAAAANNNNIT!" "I'm sorry. You can't have it. Sharp knives are only for grown ups." "WAAAAAAAA. RAARRRRR. AAAAAAAH. *slam a door* *kick something* *throw something* I WOULD LIKE TO BE A GROWN UP! PLEEEEEEEAAAAASE!!! I SAID PLEEAAAAAASSSE!!!!!" [impressively, he usually manages to mind his manners, even amidst his psychotic breaks.] "I'm sorry. You'll have to wait 15-25 more years for that." "But they let me use  knives at 'cool..." and so it begins.

the teachers also explained that they were going to start out serving drinks in paper cups, but that soon they would work up to glass, "just like you use at home." HA! gurrrrrrl, that's just crazy talk. you obviously do not have children. the only person in our house who's allowed to use a glass-glass? is me. we do often use actual dinner plates, but there have been several (expensive) casualties (including the fancy freakin salt shaker) so i have recently been rethinking my strategy there. bring on the melamine!

in addition, the school encourages parents to let the kids "help" pack their own lunches, which is generally the opposite of helpful but can be fun or sometimes terrible depending on the day. the school director warned that they "would not engage in power struggles" over lunch, "so keep that in mind when choosing what to pack." obviously, she said, if you put cookies or goldfish along with healthy fruits and vegetables, the kid's going to eat the cookies first, and probably only the cookies. she said, "hey, if you want your kid to eat cookies and goldfish for lunch everyday, we're not going to judge you." [false.] "we're just telling you how it goes."

they also "strongly suggest" the kids pick out their own clothes and dress/undress themselves. J likes to pick out his own clothes. he also likes to decide that the outfit he picked out last night, or, thirty-seven seconds ago, is the worst decision he ever made in his entire life. dressing/undressing is another issue entirely. sometimes he insists on doing it himself, sometimes he views it as an insurmountable task. the level of difficulty may or may not have something to do with whether he's gotten enough sleep, whether he is suffering from low blood sugar, and/or whether mercury is in retrograde.

even on the best day, if i were to have J pick his own clothes and dress himself from head to toe... oh yeah, and also... eat breakfast (do you know how long it takes to choose which cereal to eat?), brush teeth (i think he has, like, twenty of them at this point... and did you know that, if given the proper incentive, a child's jaw can exert force equal to that of a crocodile?), get out of his pjs so he can get into clothes, apply sunscreen (you'd think it was agent orange the way they carry on), lug his own lunch box (SO HEAVY), walk to the car (SO FAR), get in the car (SO HIGH - but GOD SAVE THE SOUL of anyone who tries to help him), get in the car seat, face the direction in the car seat that does not guarantee a ticket and a visit from CPS, securely fasten 5-point safety harness (how long does that take? multiply infinity TIMES FIVE), drive (less than a mile now, thank you Jesus!), unbuckle (involves mind-reading re: whether or not he would like assistance this particular second), get out of the car (you'd think he was rappelling from El Capitan), and walk to preschool (farrrrr. lunchbox so heavy. arm might fall off. not to mention the fact that, meanwhile, i am hauling my overgrown baby chile, who weighs significantly more than J's lunch box.) fight over who gets to sign in (if you don't want my kid to write on the sign-in sheet then don't put it at his EYE LEVEL), pass the "health check," (still unsure re: acceptable levels/colors of snot), walk to classroom [dead man walking], hang up lunchbox (BY HIMSELF). pee (even though he decidedly DID NOT have to pee AT ALL 7 minutes ago, or maybe it was an hour ago, who knows). wash hands (total germ annihilation becomes supremely important at 8:29 a.m.) finally, finally, i think i'm going to make a clean exit but at the last minute, as per usual, i need professional assistance peeling the wailing child off my leg :( the moral of the story is, independence slows progress by a minimum of 73%.

so, yeah. that's how mornings go around here. i let the kids do things for themselves when and where i can, but if i completely handed over the reigns i'd literally have to wake them up at 3am so that we could all get to school/daycare/work on time. on the other hand, if i dress the kid the way i want to, it's a dead giveaway that i am not following proper preschool independence protocol. i suppose i could intentionally pick ridiculous and mismatched ensembles, or let him wear the same shirt every day for a week, but that really offends my particular sensibilities. instead, i just let daddy pick out his clothes, as his sartorial stylings are akin to that of a small child. nobody's the wiser ;)

another area of independence is wiping their own asses. as you may or may not know, J can't effectively wipe his own because, according to him, his butt is crooked. despite this physiological challenge, self-administered butt-hygiene is a life skill that they expect my 3 year old to master. when i asked about the logistics one of the teachers said, "we just show them how to do it themselves." i was like, "okay, well, can you maybe give me some pointers because my methods of instruction are clearly insufficient." then she and another mom (who apparently teaches kindergarten) laughed and said, "oh, yeah, it's not a squeaky clean operation or anything, there will be skid marks for another 2-3 years at least. hahaha." um, ew. as our family's chief-laundress and shit-stain supervisor, i object! not only on my own behalf but as the proxy for my poor kid who has to walk around with an itchy poopy butt all day! so sad! i guess ya gotta learn sometime, but man. welcome to "the real world," a.k.a. preschool!

when we I was pregnant with C-diggity, one of DM's mentors from work gave him his "parenting bible" - a book called "your self-confident baby." DM respects the guy a great deal and says his kids are super well behaved and totally entertain themselves and let him and his wife sleep in until 9 on the weekends and do not need a constant stream of eye contact, verbal validation, and rewards (unlike somebody else we know, *wink wink*), so i thought it would be worth a read. it had some good pointers, though, in my view, nothing totally earth-shattering. however, at the time i was reading this, J was almost a year and a half, and the book basically said if you haven't done all of this by the time the kid turns 2, you're f@#%^&. so we had 6 months to implement two years' worth of cognitive behavioral therapy. i more or less took that as "better luck next time!" i'm (mostly) kidding. i don't think J's a complete lost cause ;) (and in any event, to the extent there are any magical keys to his independence and sanity, i don't think i'm going to find them in a book.)

the thing is. i want to be a chill, free range mama. well, sort of. i want to be a free range parent whose little free range chickens clean up after their own damn selves as opposed to leaving a constant trail of detritus and destruction in their wake. and obviously i want to foster independence and self-confidence in my children. but i also don't want anyone to needlessly break a leg, lose an eye, or to have to buy a new dinner set every three months. i definitely used to be that A-hole who said, "i'm not going to let having children stop me from having nice things. i will just teach my children to respect and take good care of our nice things. it's as easy as that!" i should have heeded the warning signs, e.g., that i could not even teach my husband to respect and take care of our nice things. if nothing else, 3 years of parenthood has taught me that, for better and for worse, there is a limit on your powers as a parent in the face of kids' unerring tendency to be kids! as always, it all comes back to balance and finding what works for you. and also, not having people tell you - subtly or not-so-subtly - how to raise your children all the damn time.

that is all :)

honestly, my dog could probably get ready faster than these children.
[source: www.aliexpress.com]

who knew? hell is at 30,000 feet.

saw this post on dooce.com about traveling with children. really liked it. made the mistake of reading some of the comments. became enraged. felt the need to write a comment myself in which i wrote a (slightly) shorter version of the following paragraph:

once, on our first cross country flight with a baby, our 11-month-old was so out of control that the flight attendant kindly suggested we buy a round of drinks for the entire airplane. it was quite possibly the worst 5 hours of my life. (i say that a lot. that's probably not totally accurate. but top ten FOR SURE.) we seriously considered renting a car and driving ACROSS THE COUNTRY on the way back, if not to save ourselves, then to protect our fellow citizens from further pain. i GUARANTEE you nobody felt worse about the situation than i did. i spent every minute i was legally allowed to do so (which was like, THREE HUNDRED OF THEM) walking up and down the aisle, trying to be three inches less wide than i was (while holding a large, angry, and unruly baby), bouncing said baby up and down in attempts to soothe him without elbowing people in the head, passing out apologetic smiles to everyones' stink eyes, and being on the verge of tears myself from the combination of humiliation, exhaustion, and the physical and psychic torture that is being that mom to that baby in front of a captive audience. i guess that's my karmic retribution for the fact that i used to be the jerk whose response to baby-proximity on a plane was a mental "UGH." i totally get that it sucks for you lucky* "child free" people too and i get that you wouldn't know this until it happens to you, but TRUST ME, we are TRYING. at this age, it's not an issue of the kid having manners or being well bred or having terrible parents. it's not like i'm setting the little devils loose while i knock back airplane bottles of sutter's home chardonnay (as enticing as that sounds). trying to convince a hysterical baby/toddler to be quiet/behave is like negotiating with alien terrorists that do not understand a single word that is coming out of your mouth, or, if they do, they are of such supreme (or inferior) intelligence, it is beneath (or above) them to respond.

[yes. that is a really long comment. but c'mon. you know that's how i roll. :)]

most people hated us on this (and subsequent) flights, but there were a few, including the person stuck in the same row as us, who reinvigorated my belief that humans are generally good souls. the best possible thing you can hear when you are simultaneously ruining 168 people's days, is "hey, listen, we've all been there." (actually, the best possible thing you can hear is, "here, hand her over! let me give that little sugarlump some love while you take a nap." :)) but clearly, not everyone has been there, or else people wouldn't be such jute bags about it. still. it's nice to hear. now, i feel about traveling with children as i do about food service - every person in the world should have to wait tables and travel with kids at least once as a sort of boot camp in compassion for human suffering. now, when i fly and other babies are crying, i feel bad for the parents, but if i'm being honest (and selfish), i'm actually secretly thankful, because they're probably drowning out my kids' noise and therefore i'm not the biggest A-hole on the plane. (as the author says in her piece, her response to seeing babies on the plane has gone from "OH GOD, NO." to "YAY! IT ISN'T MINE!")

oh and the people who claim that it is our CHOICE to fly across the country whilst wrestling one or more angry octopi, and/or that families shouldn't be allowed to fly at all... well, i hope on your next flight you're seated in front of a couple of toddlers who just chugged Big Gulps of Coca Cola, scarfed down some Pop Rocks, and forgot their iPads at security. unfortunately for you (and us), you live in THE WORLD, and the reality is, there are loud, energetic, sticky little children in it. they're EVERYWHERE. even on airplanes. and let me let you in on a little secret. YOU WERE ONE OF THEM ONCE. maybe your mom made you ride in the trunk and that's why you're so effing bitter about life. listen. i'm not saying it doesn't suck. i'm just saying, put on your big kid pants and handle it. unlike most grown-ups, kids usually aren't being giant crooked d*cks on purpose. (< maybe.) and i promise you that mom (or dad) is doing his/her best. the last think she needs is for you to sh*t on her already craptastic day.

* p.s., someone responded to my comment on this article. s/he replied "How is it that child-free people are 'lucky?' Having a child in America is a choice, not a game of chance." wait, what? i don't get it. well. his/her "name" is "pickyvegan" and s/he apparently likes to correct strangers' grammar online so i can already tell s/he is probably super awesome and fun to be around. i didn't respond but if i had it probably would've gone something like this:

"lucky" was an (apparently unfunny and grammatically incorrect) tongue-in-cheek reference to the "childfree by choice" movement as discussed in the recent Time Magazine article, etc., who feel that they are fortunate (hmmm... fortunate also infers chance... dangit. blessed? no, that implies some sort of divine intervention. damn. foiled again. favored? smart? winning???) not to have ruined their lives via procreation, but seem to hold the general consensus that those with child-full lives were put on this earth solely to harsh their buzz. (and I can't say I entirely blame them. children do tend to have that effect, particularly on airplanes, at least if your buzz is derived from alcohol and peace and quiet.) thanks for pointing out my mistake though! good to know the grammar police aren't sleepin' on the job!

** p.p.s. don't even get me started about education and access to birth control, etc., and whether or not everyone in America actually has a real, informed choice to have, or not to have, a child.

*** p.p.p.s. i'm so not doing a good job of "choosing joy" today.

[also this article from jaunted.com about malaysia airlines banning children from the top deck of their fancy new planes. cue outkast's 'Rosa Parks' - "aah haa, hush that fuss, little kids move to the bottom of the airbus." can really smelly people and armrest hoggers and people who insist on talking to you the whole entire flight even though you're reading AND WEARING HEADPHONES and people who deal nuclear farts be sent to the basement, too?]

looks glorious.
do you guys offer like a part-time membership?




[source: http://www.jaunted.com/story/2012/6/4/142158/2069/travel/
Misbehaving+Child+on+a+Flight%3F+Alaska+Airlines+Ain't+Having+That -
which, FYI, refers to children as "crotch flowers." charming.]