Okay, to be honest, Chris has never asked me that question. I'm sure he's thought it when he's come home to a grumpy kid, a grumpy wife, no dinner ready and a house dirtier than when he left it, but he's smart enough not to ask. I'll admit that the perfectionist in me harps on the fact that I still haven't managed to be the "perfect" mom and wife, (meaning spic and span house, laundry washed, folded and put away somewhere other than stacked on the couch, and nutritious dinners made from scratch that both husband and kid want to eat) but a blog entry circulating on Facebook made me reevaluate what I do accomplish (or endure) on a daily basis as a stay-at-home parent.
http://www.divinecaroline.com/22324/37661-did-do-day
Read it. It'll make you smile.
Kiera, Matteo, Oliver and Soren
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Friday, April 29, 2011
Oliver update: 19 Months
Spring finally arrived in Minnesota with a week of gloriously sunny days with highs in the high 50s/low 60s and Oliver got a good dose of the outdoors and decided he liked it. Now that Oliver walks really well and there isn't too much snow on the ground, we can easily pop outside for a half an hour of pre-dinner exercise or stop at the playground at the end of a walk. So far he's been good about staying away from the street and he finally learned to hold my hand, well, only when he has to. He prefers walking on his own. When I realized he could walk to our Monday evening early childhood education class on his own two legs, I stopped lugging him in the Ergo. He'll hold my hand to cross the street, but then he toddles on behind me as I coax him to keep walking so we won't be late, because he constantly distracts himself with something during the two-block walk - a car drives by, he passes by a grassy incline by the sidewalk that he wants to walk up and down and so on.
Clearly it doesn't take much to entertain Oliver when he's outside. He likes cruising up and down the sidewalk in front of our house and practicing stepping up and down on our neighbor's one-step stoop. He points at every car, truck or school bus that goes by, notices every neighborhood dog that barks and bird that chirps and even points out airplanes way up in the sky. We happen to live down the street from a school, so a special treat is walk down there when school is letting out so that Oliver can oogle the buses that line up on three sides of the school. (Yes, life with a toddler is that exciting.) We started going to the playground every day it's dry enough, something we didn't even do back in the fall because he wasn't old enough to do more than sit in the bucket swing. But swinging is still one of his favorite activities and he'll swing until I get tired of pushing him. Like most kids his age, he wants to try to climb up the slide, but once he surprised me by climbing up the platforms that lead to slide and sent himself down on his tummy head first. The scraped lip and mouth full of sad made him howl, but once he'd recovered, he went right back and tried it again! (And I made sure I was actually at the bottom this time to catch him.)
Unfortunately spring wasn't here for good, as the next week and a half was full of cloudy days, rain and even snow. Oliver had started bringing me his shoes whenever he wanted to go out and would throw a tantrum, or at least whine, if I didn't comply. I really upset him one day when I agreed to take him out even though it was drizzling, but by the time we got our coats, hats and shoes on, and walked out onto the porch, I saw that it was raining steadily. He doesn't own a rain jacket or boots yet and since we both had colds, we weren't going out.
There aren't a lot of options for places to take a kid whose up and at 'em so early in the morning - even the library doesn't open until 10:00 a.m. As winter dragged on, went away and then came back again, I found myself taking at least weekly trips to the coop, a small grocery store with wide aisles, few customers on a weekday morning and a staff who has the patience for a toddler cruising around. They have kid-sized carts, which Oliver likes to push and if anything on our grocery list is on a low shelf, he gets to pick it up off the shelf and put in his own cart. He does reasonably well with leaving the rest of the merchandise alone (with a lot of reminders) and he's only plowed into one person with his cart. Luckily, she thought he was so adorable, like a little man doing his morning errands, that she wasn't mad.
Oliver came down with another ear infection this month after the most minor of colds. I found it frustrating how few symptoms I had to go on. He had trouble falling asleep some nights, but he never cried and I didn't know if was just because his bedtime wasn't always consistent. And then, of course, he was particularly cranky. But when I finally did bring him in to pediatrician's office, the nurse asked when his crankiness began, and I replied, "When he became a toddler."
I was actually kind of relieved when the doctor gave the ear infection verdict, because it was validation that not only was there "reason" for Oliver's crankiness, but that I hadn't been going out of my mind by imagining it.
One area where tantrums have finally stopped is during bath time. I thought I had the only kid in the world who hated baths! Oliver cried from the moment I started to fill the tub, through the quickest scrub down I could do and until he was plucked from the tub and toweled off. My only consolation prize was that right after recovering from the horror that was his bath, he was in a particular mood to cuddle. Still wrapped in his towel and with his damp, tear-streaked face pressed against my shoulder, he heaved big sighs of relief and my heart melted.
I'd hashed out every possible reason and solution for Oliver's dislike of baths with friends and talked the problem over with the doctor. My mom friends were as much out of ideas as I was and the doctor just left it at Oliver's fears being normal. Then one night, after he'd wiped spaghetti sauce in his hair, I started excitedly talking about the fun bath he was going to take (one of those parenting moments I'm glad I don't have on video - my promotion of baths was cringe-worthy). He cried when I started running the bath water, but did follow me into the bathroom. I let him put his hands under the running water while he stood outside the tub and then....he stopped crying. I put him in the tub and let him keep playing with the running water and still no tears. By the second tear-free bath, I was considering it a "trend," and by the fourth, he was dumping his toys in the tub as soon as I started running the water.
Oliver still cries when I leave the room, (but will tear down the sidewalk without as much of a glance back toward me despite how loudly I yell his name) but I've actually had moments where I've run down to the basement to change the laundry or run upstairs to get something and he hasn't stood at the gate shaking it violently and crying as if he was being abandoned. I still haven't seen a pattern to the will-he-cry or will-he-not-cry when I leave, but there's some hope.
The best progress we've seen has been with his grandparents and most recently during his early childhood education class. He seems pretty comfortable staying with his grandparents and even during the worst of his separation anxiety, he cried hard right when I left, but usually stopped crying minutes later and was the fine the rest of his visit.
I've seen similar signs during our early childhood education class of (possibly) dissipating separation anxiety. We start the class playing together and then the parents leave the kids with their teachers so we can attend an hour-long parent discussion. Oliver, not surprisingly, cried hard every time I left. It was worse the second and third time we attended, because he recognized where we were going and started crying as soon as we walked into the school building or he saw one of the teachers. (Thankfully, they don't take it personally!) We have a phone in the parent room that the children's teachers can call if there's a problem and every time it rings, I freeze, because I assume my precious adult time is about to end. It's actually only happened once, though, that Oliver remained so upset by my departure that his teachers had to call me back.
Then this past week, I left Oliver with a quick goodbye and he didn't cry. Although he seemed calm and aware that I really was leaving, I was hesitant to go, because I couldn't believe that he wasn't going to cry. His teacher told me after class that not only did he not cry, or even look like he was going to, as soon as I left, he handed her his pacifier and got on with the business of playing.
I've still got a kid who thankfully likes to sleep. My friends are very generous about including Oliver when they host gatherings, but they don't understand how much his sleep schedule inhibits his social life. He's in bed with the lights out by 6:30 p.m. and awake around 6:30 a.m. Throw in a nap that's at least two and a half hours starting at 11:30 a.m. and he gets nearly 15 hours of sleep a day. This much sleep is totally normal for his age, but the schedule is also non-negotiable or you end up with a very, very cranky baby. So Oliver doesn't make many social appearances and I have friends who haven't seen him since he was an infant, but he's a happy kid.
Clearly it doesn't take much to entertain Oliver when he's outside. He likes cruising up and down the sidewalk in front of our house and practicing stepping up and down on our neighbor's one-step stoop. He points at every car, truck or school bus that goes by, notices every neighborhood dog that barks and bird that chirps and even points out airplanes way up in the sky. We happen to live down the street from a school, so a special treat is walk down there when school is letting out so that Oliver can oogle the buses that line up on three sides of the school. (Yes, life with a toddler is that exciting.) We started going to the playground every day it's dry enough, something we didn't even do back in the fall because he wasn't old enough to do more than sit in the bucket swing. But swinging is still one of his favorite activities and he'll swing until I get tired of pushing him. Like most kids his age, he wants to try to climb up the slide, but once he surprised me by climbing up the platforms that lead to slide and sent himself down on his tummy head first. The scraped lip and mouth full of sad made him howl, but once he'd recovered, he went right back and tried it again! (And I made sure I was actually at the bottom this time to catch him.)
Unfortunately spring wasn't here for good, as the next week and a half was full of cloudy days, rain and even snow. Oliver had started bringing me his shoes whenever he wanted to go out and would throw a tantrum, or at least whine, if I didn't comply. I really upset him one day when I agreed to take him out even though it was drizzling, but by the time we got our coats, hats and shoes on, and walked out onto the porch, I saw that it was raining steadily. He doesn't own a rain jacket or boots yet and since we both had colds, we weren't going out.
There aren't a lot of options for places to take a kid whose up and at 'em so early in the morning - even the library doesn't open until 10:00 a.m. As winter dragged on, went away and then came back again, I found myself taking at least weekly trips to the coop, a small grocery store with wide aisles, few customers on a weekday morning and a staff who has the patience for a toddler cruising around. They have kid-sized carts, which Oliver likes to push and if anything on our grocery list is on a low shelf, he gets to pick it up off the shelf and put in his own cart. He does reasonably well with leaving the rest of the merchandise alone (with a lot of reminders) and he's only plowed into one person with his cart. Luckily, she thought he was so adorable, like a little man doing his morning errands, that she wasn't mad.
Oliver came down with another ear infection this month after the most minor of colds. I found it frustrating how few symptoms I had to go on. He had trouble falling asleep some nights, but he never cried and I didn't know if was just because his bedtime wasn't always consistent. And then, of course, he was particularly cranky. But when I finally did bring him in to pediatrician's office, the nurse asked when his crankiness began, and I replied, "When he became a toddler."
I was actually kind of relieved when the doctor gave the ear infection verdict, because it was validation that not only was there "reason" for Oliver's crankiness, but that I hadn't been going out of my mind by imagining it.
One area where tantrums have finally stopped is during bath time. I thought I had the only kid in the world who hated baths! Oliver cried from the moment I started to fill the tub, through the quickest scrub down I could do and until he was plucked from the tub and toweled off. My only consolation prize was that right after recovering from the horror that was his bath, he was in a particular mood to cuddle. Still wrapped in his towel and with his damp, tear-streaked face pressed against my shoulder, he heaved big sighs of relief and my heart melted.
I'd hashed out every possible reason and solution for Oliver's dislike of baths with friends and talked the problem over with the doctor. My mom friends were as much out of ideas as I was and the doctor just left it at Oliver's fears being normal. Then one night, after he'd wiped spaghetti sauce in his hair, I started excitedly talking about the fun bath he was going to take (one of those parenting moments I'm glad I don't have on video - my promotion of baths was cringe-worthy). He cried when I started running the bath water, but did follow me into the bathroom. I let him put his hands under the running water while he stood outside the tub and then....he stopped crying. I put him in the tub and let him keep playing with the running water and still no tears. By the second tear-free bath, I was considering it a "trend," and by the fourth, he was dumping his toys in the tub as soon as I started running the water.
Oliver still cries when I leave the room, (but will tear down the sidewalk without as much of a glance back toward me despite how loudly I yell his name) but I've actually had moments where I've run down to the basement to change the laundry or run upstairs to get something and he hasn't stood at the gate shaking it violently and crying as if he was being abandoned. I still haven't seen a pattern to the will-he-cry or will-he-not-cry when I leave, but there's some hope.
The best progress we've seen has been with his grandparents and most recently during his early childhood education class. He seems pretty comfortable staying with his grandparents and even during the worst of his separation anxiety, he cried hard right when I left, but usually stopped crying minutes later and was the fine the rest of his visit.
I've seen similar signs during our early childhood education class of (possibly) dissipating separation anxiety. We start the class playing together and then the parents leave the kids with their teachers so we can attend an hour-long parent discussion. Oliver, not surprisingly, cried hard every time I left. It was worse the second and third time we attended, because he recognized where we were going and started crying as soon as we walked into the school building or he saw one of the teachers. (Thankfully, they don't take it personally!) We have a phone in the parent room that the children's teachers can call if there's a problem and every time it rings, I freeze, because I assume my precious adult time is about to end. It's actually only happened once, though, that Oliver remained so upset by my departure that his teachers had to call me back.
Then this past week, I left Oliver with a quick goodbye and he didn't cry. Although he seemed calm and aware that I really was leaving, I was hesitant to go, because I couldn't believe that he wasn't going to cry. His teacher told me after class that not only did he not cry, or even look like he was going to, as soon as I left, he handed her his pacifier and got on with the business of playing.
I've still got a kid who thankfully likes to sleep. My friends are very generous about including Oliver when they host gatherings, but they don't understand how much his sleep schedule inhibits his social life. He's in bed with the lights out by 6:30 p.m. and awake around 6:30 a.m. Throw in a nap that's at least two and a half hours starting at 11:30 a.m. and he gets nearly 15 hours of sleep a day. This much sleep is totally normal for his age, but the schedule is also non-negotiable or you end up with a very, very cranky baby. So Oliver doesn't make many social appearances and I have friends who haven't seen him since he was an infant, but he's a happy kid.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Beautiful Easter Sunday
We are not church-going folks, not even for holidays, and as a vegetarian, I don't even get excited about the Easter ham, so Easter for me is more a signal of spring. A dose of sun and warm weather is what we finally got after a dismal week of rain and cold temperatures.
The grass even dried out enough for Oliver's first Easter egg hunt. We went over to the in-law's for breakfast and afterward Oliver "hunted" for the plastic eggs my mother-in-law had stocked with Oliver's favorites - Cheerios, Goldfish and cars. The hunt consisted of Oliver's dad and Uncle Andy leading him toward each egg,(Look over there, is that an egg? Let's go see this egg over here...) with Grandpa and Mom following his every move with cameras, but even without the coaching, he would have probably gotten the idea. The experience was a big step up developmentally from Halloween when he was so bewildered, (being stuffed in a costume probably didn't help) but today he understood that the eggs went in his Easter basket and then after Dad helped him open the eggs, plopped down on the grass and contently munched on his treats. I wished at that point the eggs were filled with chocolate for Oliver to "share" with Mom, but as we packed up to head home for Oliver's overdue nap, his grandpa slipped a bagful of jelly beans and chocolate bunnies into my purse.
The grass even dried out enough for Oliver's first Easter egg hunt. We went over to the in-law's for breakfast and afterward Oliver "hunted" for the plastic eggs my mother-in-law had stocked with Oliver's favorites - Cheerios, Goldfish and cars. The hunt consisted of Oliver's dad and Uncle Andy leading him toward each egg,(Look over there, is that an egg? Let's go see this egg over here...) with Grandpa and Mom following his every move with cameras, but even without the coaching, he would have probably gotten the idea. The experience was a big step up developmentally from Halloween when he was so bewildered, (being stuffed in a costume probably didn't help) but today he understood that the eggs went in his Easter basket and then after Dad helped him open the eggs, plopped down on the grass and contently munched on his treats. I wished at that point the eggs were filled with chocolate for Oliver to "share" with Mom, but as we packed up to head home for Oliver's overdue nap, his grandpa slipped a bagful of jelly beans and chocolate bunnies into my purse.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
I Thought Getting There Was Half the Fun
The years I spent abroad epitomize the "getting there is half the fun" type of travel I once did. I was the budget traveler who could leave when I wanted to, travel on a whim and spend days on a train if it meant I could reach far-flung locations like Stockholm and Spain (24- and 48-hour trips, respectively, with numerous layovers and middle-of-the-night border crossings). Lugging my skis, I boarded trains bound for the Alps of Switzerland and Austria, I decided last-minute to spend 12 hours round-trip traveling to and from Warsaw for a weekend visit with friends and was excited when I found out there was a 2:00 a.m. train out of Freiburg, Germany that would get me to Basel, Switzerland in time for the 4:00 a.m. start of Fasnacht (Carnival). I considered wherever the train went to be a doable trip, no matter when I arrived or how tired and disheveled I was upon finally arriving.
Now that I travel with a kid, I can't get to my destination quick enough. I've written a lot about traveling (particularly flying) with young children and how doable it is, but I'll be honest that the actual traveling part of a vacation isn't what I would describe as "fun". While I've never had a major mishap flying with Oliver, (he's never actually screamed the whole time during a flight) the fate of every trip does feel very much out of my hands, no matter what preparations we make. We try to time car trips or flights as best we can around his schedule and we've avoided layovers as much as possible. In fact, we haven't even taken a trip that lasted more than three and a half hours.
Our vacation to New Mexico at the end of March marked a new level in our "traveling with kids" phase when we realized that Oliver isn't as portable as he used to be and that flying with young children, as rewarding as the overall vacation is, does have challenges. I can love traveling and still be in a phase where I wish I could say, "Beam me up Scotty." So here's the honest look at flying with an 18-month-old.
When we realized it would cost of half as much to fly to Albuquerque if we used miles we had accrued on American Airlines, we abandoned my rule of never booking a flight with a layover if an opportunity existed to fly direct. (Delta flies direct to Albuquerque, but American sends you via Dallas.) And even though we debate every time we fly whether to buy Oliver his own seat, we ignored our memories of our last flight with Oliver when he was 15 months old (and had told ourselves then that that trip would be his last time flying on our laps) and decided we could do just one more "infant in lap" flight if it meant Oliver was flying for free.
Minneapolis to Dallas:
If we had tried to pretend that Oliver had gotten smaller and more manageable since our last trip three months ago, we were reminded during the first leg of our trip, from Minneapolis to Dallas, of all the reasons why flying with a toddler is not easy.
Airplanes are notorious for their uneven climate control - you're either baking while waiting for the plane to taxi, or the air blasting on your head from above is annoying and only manages to cool your scalp and nothing else- and having another human being sitting on your lap is nauseatingly hot, so you both arrive at your destination a hot, sweaty mess. (Okay, being pregnant doesn't help with the climate control either.) Oliver isn't content to sit on our laps anymore either and wants to be moving around, which isn't possible during many parts of the flight. Napping is now a logistical challenge, as Oliver is so much taller and takes up one and a half seats when lying down. We had the middle and window seats of a three-seat row and despite trying to pad our laps and such with blankets and jackets, Oliver could not get comfortable enough to sleep. Like he does in his crib, he wanted to move around to find a comfortable position. (Thankfully our row-mate had an 18-month-old grandchild of his own and genuinely didn't seem to mind that he got kicked a few times while I tried to get Oliver to lie in my lap to take a nap.) The inability to nap or get out of our laps when he wanted to led to tantrums, which involve throwing his head back, and unfortunately mouth is in line with the top of his scull. I felt fortunate to have arrived in Dallas without a split lip.
Dallas to Albuquerque:
However, even as I document all the reasons why we need to suck it up and buy Oliver a ticket next time, the Dallas to Albuquerque leg, where we got an entire three-seat row to ourselves and were able to bring Oliver's car seat onboard, wasn't stress-free either. Putting Oliver in his car seat in the car is one of the few transitions Oliver doesn't seem to mind and he's always been relatively content there. Until he was on an airplane. He did not want to sit in his seat and he cried so hard while we sat delayed at the gate, that I became desperate to do anything to quiet him, including letting him sit in my lap, exactly what I had thought we would avoid. I looked over bitterly at the empty car seat and imagined if we had spent hundreds of dollars for that seat. While Oliver knows that the only way to travel in a car is in a car seat, I wondered if he'd associated flying with sitting in mom or dad's lap. By the time we'd reached cruising altitude, I was already uncomfortably hot with Oliver on my lap and he no longer wanted to sit still. After one head-fling back in a fit of defiance by Oliver, I decided it was better now than never to try to teach him that he sits in his own seat when flying. I had a stern word with him about this being what was expected of him, which probably sounded more fitting for a ten-year-old than an 18-month-old, but it worked! He quieted down! He didn't sit there the whole flight, but having my personal space back made the flight much more enjoyable.
Albuquerque to Dallas:
Our flight home from Albuquerque had an equal number of successes and challenges. The Albuquerque to Dallas leg was short enough (about an hour) and timed perfectly with Oliver's schedule that his pre-nap good mood easily lasted the flight. We had a two-seat row to ourselves and Chris and I passed Oliver back and forth between our laps, and with the arm rest up, Oliver could sit cozily between us in the row. The flight went so smoothly that I actually began to question what was so difficult about flying with a toddler.
But we had only made it as far as Dallas and I knew our luck was about to run out. As we prepared to land right around Oliver's typical nap time, Chris and I examined our less-than-ideal strategies for getting in Oliver's nap for the day. Ideally he would nap during the two-hour layover, but we'd have to walk with the stroller the whole time for him to even have a chance at sleeping, and even then he wouldn't be able to sleep for the two and a half hours he needs to be rested/in a good mood. And if could fall asleep, despite the overstimulation of the airport, it would take him awhile to do so and then he'd just wake up when we started the boarding process. He would more likely sleep in our arms during the second flight, but the chances of him making it that long without a meltdown were also slim. Sigh...we were pretty much screwed.
Dallas to Minneapolis:
We did try to get him to nap during the layover, but unsurprisingly, with no success. We even tried to give him Benadryl, a tactic that had been so successful when I flew by myself with him at Christmas, but he refused it. By the time we boarded the plane, he was clearly exhausted and we started to repeat our experience of the Minneapolis to Dallas leg from a week before. We tried again with the Benadryl, which he took, but then our plane got delayed over 30 minutes at the gate, and with the aircraft in the park position and the cabin lights on, Oliver just could not sleep no matter how much he desperately wanted (needed) to and he expressed his frustration with punctuated screams and flailing limbs. Shortly after take-off, the effect of the vibrations and noise of the jet engines combined with the Benadryl were finally enough lull him to sleep. Chris and I were so relieved even if Oliver only napped for 45 minutes. He wasn't in a stellar mood when he awoke, but the shut-eye was enough to make him appear like a happy, well-adjusted kid. It took two adults to keep him entertained with empty beverage service cups and the emergency procedure cards in the seat-back pocket, but we were more relaxed knowing that we were getting close to Minneapolis.
Despite the tense moments we had during portions of our travel, my faith in my fellow passengers was continuously buoyed. In all the trips I've taken, not once have I had a situation where a passenger has even shot me a dirty look. After the blizzard in the Northeast last December, Oliver and I had to be redirected on a flight via Memphis and were put in first class as the airlines desperately tried to transport passengers who had been delayed for days. Our second flight was hours past his bedtime and he cried hard for an hour as I tried to get him to sleep. I felt bad for the passengers around me who had actually paid to travel first class, only to sit next to a screaming baby. Yet as we taxied towards the gate, finally in Philadelphia, an older man next to me turned to me and said, "Wow, none of my four kids ever traveled that well."
Then the flight attendants helped me carry my bags so I could safely step down the steep set of stairs of the commuter jet onto the jetway with Oliver strapped to my back and one of the pilots jumped out of the cockpit and followed me down and fetched Oliver's car seat, which had been gate-checked and left for me at the bottom of the stairs.
Even if the majority of travelers aren't traveling with young children, most of them have or have had young children in their lives. When people smile at your child, ask questions and even comment, "What a good traveler!" you know they remember what it's like.
And somehow, Oliver always arrived with a smile on his face and I was left thinking, "That wasn't so bad."
Maybe it was kind of fun.
Now that I travel with a kid, I can't get to my destination quick enough. I've written a lot about traveling (particularly flying) with young children and how doable it is, but I'll be honest that the actual traveling part of a vacation isn't what I would describe as "fun". While I've never had a major mishap flying with Oliver, (he's never actually screamed the whole time during a flight) the fate of every trip does feel very much out of my hands, no matter what preparations we make. We try to time car trips or flights as best we can around his schedule and we've avoided layovers as much as possible. In fact, we haven't even taken a trip that lasted more than three and a half hours.
Our vacation to New Mexico at the end of March marked a new level in our "traveling with kids" phase when we realized that Oliver isn't as portable as he used to be and that flying with young children, as rewarding as the overall vacation is, does have challenges. I can love traveling and still be in a phase where I wish I could say, "Beam me up Scotty." So here's the honest look at flying with an 18-month-old.
When we realized it would cost of half as much to fly to Albuquerque if we used miles we had accrued on American Airlines, we abandoned my rule of never booking a flight with a layover if an opportunity existed to fly direct. (Delta flies direct to Albuquerque, but American sends you via Dallas.) And even though we debate every time we fly whether to buy Oliver his own seat, we ignored our memories of our last flight with Oliver when he was 15 months old (and had told ourselves then that that trip would be his last time flying on our laps) and decided we could do just one more "infant in lap" flight if it meant Oliver was flying for free.
Minneapolis to Dallas:
If we had tried to pretend that Oliver had gotten smaller and more manageable since our last trip three months ago, we were reminded during the first leg of our trip, from Minneapolis to Dallas, of all the reasons why flying with a toddler is not easy.
Airplanes are notorious for their uneven climate control - you're either baking while waiting for the plane to taxi, or the air blasting on your head from above is annoying and only manages to cool your scalp and nothing else- and having another human being sitting on your lap is nauseatingly hot, so you both arrive at your destination a hot, sweaty mess. (Okay, being pregnant doesn't help with the climate control either.) Oliver isn't content to sit on our laps anymore either and wants to be moving around, which isn't possible during many parts of the flight. Napping is now a logistical challenge, as Oliver is so much taller and takes up one and a half seats when lying down. We had the middle and window seats of a three-seat row and despite trying to pad our laps and such with blankets and jackets, Oliver could not get comfortable enough to sleep. Like he does in his crib, he wanted to move around to find a comfortable position. (Thankfully our row-mate had an 18-month-old grandchild of his own and genuinely didn't seem to mind that he got kicked a few times while I tried to get Oliver to lie in my lap to take a nap.) The inability to nap or get out of our laps when he wanted to led to tantrums, which involve throwing his head back, and unfortunately mouth is in line with the top of his scull. I felt fortunate to have arrived in Dallas without a split lip.
Dallas to Albuquerque:
However, even as I document all the reasons why we need to suck it up and buy Oliver a ticket next time, the Dallas to Albuquerque leg, where we got an entire three-seat row to ourselves and were able to bring Oliver's car seat onboard, wasn't stress-free either. Putting Oliver in his car seat in the car is one of the few transitions Oliver doesn't seem to mind and he's always been relatively content there. Until he was on an airplane. He did not want to sit in his seat and he cried so hard while we sat delayed at the gate, that I became desperate to do anything to quiet him, including letting him sit in my lap, exactly what I had thought we would avoid. I looked over bitterly at the empty car seat and imagined if we had spent hundreds of dollars for that seat. While Oliver knows that the only way to travel in a car is in a car seat, I wondered if he'd associated flying with sitting in mom or dad's lap. By the time we'd reached cruising altitude, I was already uncomfortably hot with Oliver on my lap and he no longer wanted to sit still. After one head-fling back in a fit of defiance by Oliver, I decided it was better now than never to try to teach him that he sits in his own seat when flying. I had a stern word with him about this being what was expected of him, which probably sounded more fitting for a ten-year-old than an 18-month-old, but it worked! He quieted down! He didn't sit there the whole flight, but having my personal space back made the flight much more enjoyable.
Albuquerque to Dallas:
Our flight home from Albuquerque had an equal number of successes and challenges. The Albuquerque to Dallas leg was short enough (about an hour) and timed perfectly with Oliver's schedule that his pre-nap good mood easily lasted the flight. We had a two-seat row to ourselves and Chris and I passed Oliver back and forth between our laps, and with the arm rest up, Oliver could sit cozily between us in the row. The flight went so smoothly that I actually began to question what was so difficult about flying with a toddler.
But we had only made it as far as Dallas and I knew our luck was about to run out. As we prepared to land right around Oliver's typical nap time, Chris and I examined our less-than-ideal strategies for getting in Oliver's nap for the day. Ideally he would nap during the two-hour layover, but we'd have to walk with the stroller the whole time for him to even have a chance at sleeping, and even then he wouldn't be able to sleep for the two and a half hours he needs to be rested/in a good mood. And if could fall asleep, despite the overstimulation of the airport, it would take him awhile to do so and then he'd just wake up when we started the boarding process. He would more likely sleep in our arms during the second flight, but the chances of him making it that long without a meltdown were also slim. Sigh...we were pretty much screwed.
Dallas to Minneapolis:
We did try to get him to nap during the layover, but unsurprisingly, with no success. We even tried to give him Benadryl, a tactic that had been so successful when I flew by myself with him at Christmas, but he refused it. By the time we boarded the plane, he was clearly exhausted and we started to repeat our experience of the Minneapolis to Dallas leg from a week before. We tried again with the Benadryl, which he took, but then our plane got delayed over 30 minutes at the gate, and with the aircraft in the park position and the cabin lights on, Oliver just could not sleep no matter how much he desperately wanted (needed) to and he expressed his frustration with punctuated screams and flailing limbs. Shortly after take-off, the effect of the vibrations and noise of the jet engines combined with the Benadryl were finally enough lull him to sleep. Chris and I were so relieved even if Oliver only napped for 45 minutes. He wasn't in a stellar mood when he awoke, but the shut-eye was enough to make him appear like a happy, well-adjusted kid. It took two adults to keep him entertained with empty beverage service cups and the emergency procedure cards in the seat-back pocket, but we were more relaxed knowing that we were getting close to Minneapolis.
Despite the tense moments we had during portions of our travel, my faith in my fellow passengers was continuously buoyed. In all the trips I've taken, not once have I had a situation where a passenger has even shot me a dirty look. After the blizzard in the Northeast last December, Oliver and I had to be redirected on a flight via Memphis and were put in first class as the airlines desperately tried to transport passengers who had been delayed for days. Our second flight was hours past his bedtime and he cried hard for an hour as I tried to get him to sleep. I felt bad for the passengers around me who had actually paid to travel first class, only to sit next to a screaming baby. Yet as we taxied towards the gate, finally in Philadelphia, an older man next to me turned to me and said, "Wow, none of my four kids ever traveled that well."
Then the flight attendants helped me carry my bags so I could safely step down the steep set of stairs of the commuter jet onto the jetway with Oliver strapped to my back and one of the pilots jumped out of the cockpit and followed me down and fetched Oliver's car seat, which had been gate-checked and left for me at the bottom of the stairs.
Even if the majority of travelers aren't traveling with young children, most of them have or have had young children in their lives. When people smile at your child, ask questions and even comment, "What a good traveler!" you know they remember what it's like.
And somehow, Oliver always arrived with a smile on his face and I was left thinking, "That wasn't so bad."
Maybe it was kind of fun.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
We are not getting a dog
Chris used to want a dog really badly. I think his monthly question of, "When are we going to get a dog?" started before we even got married. The way I fawn over dogs like most people do over babies, you think you would have been safer placing a bet that Chris and I would have ended up getting a dog instead of having a kid. But that's the area where I've been most misunderstood. I love dogs, but I do not want to own a dog. So my answer to Chris's pleading question was always a resounding, "No."
When both Chris and I were working full-time and long hours, owning a dog seemed unfair. Both of us were headed for work before 6:30 a.m. and even though Chris worked close to home, he came home for lunch exactly once in the 18 or so months we lived an eight-minute drive from his office. In addition, having grown up with a dog my whole childhood, I remembered what a responsibility a dog was. And I didn't even have the financial responsibility for what we considered a four-legged family member, but I know how you have to walk them, rain or shine, summer or snow, play with them, and permanently keep everything chewable out of mouth's reach and anything breakable out of tail-wagging level.
And then there was the dog hair. Oh, god, the hair was out of control. Our dog couldn't resist the temptation to roll in a load of warm laundry fresh from the dryer. I never liked wearing light-colored clothing, because no matter how much you "dusted" yourself off, there'd always be a stray, black dog hair hanging from your t-shirt. Those stray dog hairs landed on the clean linens you just put on your bed, between the keyboard of the computer or on the kitchen counter you just wiped down. You couldn't eradicate them.
My mom's uncharacteristically non-cheapskate purchase of a pricey Dyson vacuum cleaner did give us a fighting chance against the shedding of a Labrador Retriever. I've never been so enamored with and loyal to a vacuum cleaner brand. Suddenly the necessary every-day vacuuming that comes with a dog was at least less cumbersome as the Dyson maneuvered across the first floor and picked up a canister's worth of dog hair and other debris. We then sucked up with the hose the dog-hair dust bunnies from under the furniture, the hair that had settled in the crooks of the stairs to the second floor and the stray hairs that had even floated towards theceiling and stuck themselves to the paint high enough on the walls they would otherwise have been out of reach.
It was possibly the memory of all the required extra cleaning that kept me from even considering backing down from Chris's dog request. Because what I was really afraid of was that even though he was the one who wanted the dog, I'd be stuck with the clean-up. Oh how I wish our relationship didn't match those studies sociologists have conducted where they discover that despite the advances women have made, they still do significantly more housework than their male partners, but it's true. Sigh.
Having a kid ended up settling the dog question once and for all. I was suddenly an overwhelmed stay-at-home mom with a newborn and I think a baby wailing for food while the dog scratched at the door wanting to go out would have sent me over the edge. Or maybe it would have been having dog hair stuck to all of Oliver's onesies as he learned to crawl, or him sticking his hands in the dog's water dish. Or having to do a sweep of the back yard for dog poop before letting Oliver go play. There are many days when I feel like I can hardly keep up with life as a mom - running loads of laundry; cleaning floors, booster seats, faces, hands and sippy cups after every snack and meal; changing diapers; making meals; picking up toys; planning errands around nap time - and I'm so thankful we never ended up getting a dog. With Chris away from home so much because of class and work travel, my hunch that I would have ended up with all the responsibility for the dog would surely have come true.
Chris eventually stopped asking for a dog, and a few months after Oliver was born even announced that he was happy we don't have one. His affection for and interest in dogs hasn't waned, but I think parenthood, like it was for me, turned out to be harder than he had ever imagined it could be. We're now focusing our limited time and energy on raising our growing family and keeping the house standing.
While the issue of getting a dog has been settled for now, I predict we'll be revisiting it another ten years. Except it'll be Oliver and baby 2.0 asking. And the answer will still be a resounding, "No!"
When both Chris and I were working full-time and long hours, owning a dog seemed unfair. Both of us were headed for work before 6:30 a.m. and even though Chris worked close to home, he came home for lunch exactly once in the 18 or so months we lived an eight-minute drive from his office. In addition, having grown up with a dog my whole childhood, I remembered what a responsibility a dog was. And I didn't even have the financial responsibility for what we considered a four-legged family member, but I know how you have to walk them, rain or shine, summer or snow, play with them, and permanently keep everything chewable out of mouth's reach and anything breakable out of tail-wagging level.
And then there was the dog hair. Oh, god, the hair was out of control. Our dog couldn't resist the temptation to roll in a load of warm laundry fresh from the dryer. I never liked wearing light-colored clothing, because no matter how much you "dusted" yourself off, there'd always be a stray, black dog hair hanging from your t-shirt. Those stray dog hairs landed on the clean linens you just put on your bed, between the keyboard of the computer or on the kitchen counter you just wiped down. You couldn't eradicate them.
My mom's uncharacteristically non-cheapskate purchase of a pricey Dyson vacuum cleaner did give us a fighting chance against the shedding of a Labrador Retriever. I've never been so enamored with and loyal to a vacuum cleaner brand. Suddenly the necessary every-day vacuuming that comes with a dog was at least less cumbersome as the Dyson maneuvered across the first floor and picked up a canister's worth of dog hair and other debris. We then sucked up with the hose the dog-hair dust bunnies from under the furniture, the hair that had settled in the crooks of the stairs to the second floor and the stray hairs that had even floated towards theceiling and stuck themselves to the paint high enough on the walls they would otherwise have been out of reach.
It was possibly the memory of all the required extra cleaning that kept me from even considering backing down from Chris's dog request. Because what I was really afraid of was that even though he was the one who wanted the dog, I'd be stuck with the clean-up. Oh how I wish our relationship didn't match those studies sociologists have conducted where they discover that despite the advances women have made, they still do significantly more housework than their male partners, but it's true. Sigh.
Having a kid ended up settling the dog question once and for all. I was suddenly an overwhelmed stay-at-home mom with a newborn and I think a baby wailing for food while the dog scratched at the door wanting to go out would have sent me over the edge. Or maybe it would have been having dog hair stuck to all of Oliver's onesies as he learned to crawl, or him sticking his hands in the dog's water dish. Or having to do a sweep of the back yard for dog poop before letting Oliver go play. There are many days when I feel like I can hardly keep up with life as a mom - running loads of laundry; cleaning floors, booster seats, faces, hands and sippy cups after every snack and meal; changing diapers; making meals; picking up toys; planning errands around nap time - and I'm so thankful we never ended up getting a dog. With Chris away from home so much because of class and work travel, my hunch that I would have ended up with all the responsibility for the dog would surely have come true.
Chris eventually stopped asking for a dog, and a few months after Oliver was born even announced that he was happy we don't have one. His affection for and interest in dogs hasn't waned, but I think parenthood, like it was for me, turned out to be harder than he had ever imagined it could be. We're now focusing our limited time and energy on raising our growing family and keeping the house standing.
While the issue of getting a dog has been settled for now, I predict we'll be revisiting it another ten years. Except it'll be Oliver and baby 2.0 asking. And the answer will still be a resounding, "No!"
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Buying a House with Kids in Mind
A friend and his wife are buying their first house, and although childless at the moment, want to buy a house with kids in mind and asked me what to look for. We've seen some of our friends scramble to find a new house with the arrival of a first or second kid, or have to make do with a house that was perfect for the newly married couple, but not for a larger family.
We had a baby on the way when we were looking for our current home, so kid-suitable was on our mind. And now that we're fully immersed in life with a toddler, my list of must-have's and other considerations has grown.
Number and location of bedrooms
Having at least two bedrooms (preferrably three) on one level is the number one feature of a home to look for if you want to have kids (such a layout can actually be quite a challenge to find if you're house-hunting in St. Paul). You will want babies and young kids in a room next to you because it brings peace of mind and saves aggravation of running up and down stairs to attend to kids in the middle of the night. We have a ground floor master bedroom with an attached 3/4 bathroom, but Chris and I will be crammed into the middle bedroom upstairs I guess until the kids are old enough to come downstairs in the middle of the night to find us.
Also, even though kids can share rooms, newborns and toddlers sharing rooms can be a tricky balance since they're on such different sleep/nap schedules. I'm thankful now for that third bedroom upstairs. Oliver and Baby #2 will get their own rooms, but if there's a third baby, Baby #2 and Oliver will share and Baby #3 will actually get its own room for the first two years or so.
Terrain of the property
If the house sits on a hill, there will be many steps just to get to the front door, and imagine hiking those steps while hauling a stroller up to the porch after a walk or trying to carry a baby in the winter.
If there's a deck out back, there might be a steep drop-off, something that would make me very nervous once my kids were of climbing age. Plus, you want the yard to be easily accessible (no having to go down to the basement to get outside or climbing down a steep set of deck stairs) and have enough flat terrain for the kids to play.
Bathroom with a tub
At least one bathroom in the house must have a bathtub or you can just keep looking - the house will simply not work for kids. Having a bathroom, and the one with the tub, by the kids room also makes life a little easier.
Fenced-in yard
No fence around the backyard isn't a deal-breaker, because you can put one in, (but may be expensive) but having a fenced-in yard is a so helpful once kids hit the toddler age, because they don't understand boundaries or directions yet and they have selective hearing. :)
No carpet in the dining room
Again this doesn't have to be a deal-breaker since carpet is replaceable, (even easier if there are salvageable hardwood floors underneath) but just asssume that renovating the dining room floor will be a must-do before moving in. Kids or no kids, I don't know why anyone thinks carpet in the dining room is a good idea.
Drop-offs in the house
Any home that has a room with a half-wall connecting one level from the other, (like a lofted space over-looking a living room) is a huge safety concern in my opinion. Just like with a deck, I'd be terrified Oliver would push a chair up to the wall, (kids love pushing furniture around the house, so it's not out of the question) climb on the chair and fall over the wall.
Also, split levels are notorious for those wrought-iron railings and at a minimum, your kid will annoy you to death by throwing toys through that railing.
Swimming pool
I'm glad we don't live in Florida or California where it seems every house has a pool, because as a parent with a young child, I do not want a pool (or to even have another water feature, like a stormwater pond, bordering the property, unless there were a fence). We did see a house with a pool during our seachr (a rarity in St. Paul), and if we had bought it, we would have filled it in (it wasn't in great shape as it was).
Other things that aren't deal-brakers, but you might want to consider....
Open concept
I hated the open concept plan in our place in Stillwater, (Chris didn't like the noise I created in the kitchen while he tried watching TV and I didn't like my mess in the kitchen so much on display for guests) but now I see the benefit of having the first floor open so you can see what the kids are up to while you're making dinner. We're doing fine with the layout of our house now, (benefit of a small house is that open or not, you're never very far from the kids even if they're in another room) but if open concept is not your style, don't completely discredit it.
That said, if you need space for a home office or hobbies, make sure it's in a space that can be closed off from kids. I see a lot of finished basements that are playroom on one side and mom and dad's computer space on the other end...toddlers, especially, will get into anything they can reach and that isn't physically blocked off.
Single-level homes
I wouldn't pass up a house I was in love with because it had two levels, but after staying in a single-level house in Santa Fe that at most, had a small step-up into the home from the driveway or yard, I understand why single-level homes are so attractive if you have little kids. There was no schlepping babies up and down flights of stairs and no taking ten minutes just to grab something from your bedroom because your toddler wants to come with you and climb the stairs - painstakingly slowly - himself.
Garage
We were ready to give up a garage when moving back to the city, but I'm thankful we got a house with one. I find it easier to park my car on the street during the non-snow months, but standing on top of a snow bank and trying to load your kid in the car is a pain. A garage also keeps your car cooler or warmer, depending upon the weather, and that difference is enough when you're putting your baby in a freezing cold or burning hot car.
Space for your kid stuff
Okay, so our enclosed front porch doesn't look great littered with strollers, but at least there's a place to put the stroller after a walk without having to schlepp it (and the kid) to the back of the house to stow the stroller in the garage and then have to carry Oliver back in the house. I like that our garage is extra wide too so that we have room to fit our cars and strollers off to the side for long-term storage. And who knows how many outdoor play things you'll accumulate too and they all need a place to be stored.
Think about storage inside the house too. With smaller homes, you might not be able to have a separate playroom, but closets are helpful for stowing big playthings when guests come over. If you're thinking of more than one kid, think about where you'll store all the stuff you're saving from kid #1 for future kid #2.
Busy streets and noise producers
Every realtor we've had has steered us clear of busy streets, but with kids it becomes a safety and quality of life issue (noise). Watch out for other sources of noise, like a fire station or a playground. Little did we know that our house sits three houses away from the neighborhood's tornado siren...
Mudroom or proper entry closets
Your kid may be smaller than you, but he or she will have just as many shoes, boots, jackets, scarves, mittens, etc. and will eventually have a bookbag, musical instruments, sports equipment and whatever else they will dump at the door after getting off the school bus. This will all need somewhere to go, while also being accessible for the next mad dash out the door.
We had a baby on the way when we were looking for our current home, so kid-suitable was on our mind. And now that we're fully immersed in life with a toddler, my list of must-have's and other considerations has grown.
Number and location of bedrooms
Having at least two bedrooms (preferrably three) on one level is the number one feature of a home to look for if you want to have kids (such a layout can actually be quite a challenge to find if you're house-hunting in St. Paul). You will want babies and young kids in a room next to you because it brings peace of mind and saves aggravation of running up and down stairs to attend to kids in the middle of the night. We have a ground floor master bedroom with an attached 3/4 bathroom, but Chris and I will be crammed into the middle bedroom upstairs I guess until the kids are old enough to come downstairs in the middle of the night to find us.
Also, even though kids can share rooms, newborns and toddlers sharing rooms can be a tricky balance since they're on such different sleep/nap schedules. I'm thankful now for that third bedroom upstairs. Oliver and Baby #2 will get their own rooms, but if there's a third baby, Baby #2 and Oliver will share and Baby #3 will actually get its own room for the first two years or so.
Terrain of the property
If the house sits on a hill, there will be many steps just to get to the front door, and imagine hiking those steps while hauling a stroller up to the porch after a walk or trying to carry a baby in the winter.
If there's a deck out back, there might be a steep drop-off, something that would make me very nervous once my kids were of climbing age. Plus, you want the yard to be easily accessible (no having to go down to the basement to get outside or climbing down a steep set of deck stairs) and have enough flat terrain for the kids to play.
Bathroom with a tub
At least one bathroom in the house must have a bathtub or you can just keep looking - the house will simply not work for kids. Having a bathroom, and the one with the tub, by the kids room also makes life a little easier.
Fenced-in yard
No fence around the backyard isn't a deal-breaker, because you can put one in, (but may be expensive) but having a fenced-in yard is a so helpful once kids hit the toddler age, because they don't understand boundaries or directions yet and they have selective hearing. :)
No carpet in the dining room
Again this doesn't have to be a deal-breaker since carpet is replaceable, (even easier if there are salvageable hardwood floors underneath) but just asssume that renovating the dining room floor will be a must-do before moving in. Kids or no kids, I don't know why anyone thinks carpet in the dining room is a good idea.
Drop-offs in the house
Any home that has a room with a half-wall connecting one level from the other, (like a lofted space over-looking a living room) is a huge safety concern in my opinion. Just like with a deck, I'd be terrified Oliver would push a chair up to the wall, (kids love pushing furniture around the house, so it's not out of the question) climb on the chair and fall over the wall.
Also, split levels are notorious for those wrought-iron railings and at a minimum, your kid will annoy you to death by throwing toys through that railing.
Swimming pool
I'm glad we don't live in Florida or California where it seems every house has a pool, because as a parent with a young child, I do not want a pool (or to even have another water feature, like a stormwater pond, bordering the property, unless there were a fence). We did see a house with a pool during our seachr (a rarity in St. Paul), and if we had bought it, we would have filled it in (it wasn't in great shape as it was).
Other things that aren't deal-brakers, but you might want to consider....
Open concept
I hated the open concept plan in our place in Stillwater, (Chris didn't like the noise I created in the kitchen while he tried watching TV and I didn't like my mess in the kitchen so much on display for guests) but now I see the benefit of having the first floor open so you can see what the kids are up to while you're making dinner. We're doing fine with the layout of our house now, (benefit of a small house is that open or not, you're never very far from the kids even if they're in another room) but if open concept is not your style, don't completely discredit it.
That said, if you need space for a home office or hobbies, make sure it's in a space that can be closed off from kids. I see a lot of finished basements that are playroom on one side and mom and dad's computer space on the other end...toddlers, especially, will get into anything they can reach and that isn't physically blocked off.
Single-level homes
I wouldn't pass up a house I was in love with because it had two levels, but after staying in a single-level house in Santa Fe that at most, had a small step-up into the home from the driveway or yard, I understand why single-level homes are so attractive if you have little kids. There was no schlepping babies up and down flights of stairs and no taking ten minutes just to grab something from your bedroom because your toddler wants to come with you and climb the stairs - painstakingly slowly - himself.
Garage
We were ready to give up a garage when moving back to the city, but I'm thankful we got a house with one. I find it easier to park my car on the street during the non-snow months, but standing on top of a snow bank and trying to load your kid in the car is a pain. A garage also keeps your car cooler or warmer, depending upon the weather, and that difference is enough when you're putting your baby in a freezing cold or burning hot car.
Space for your kid stuff
Okay, so our enclosed front porch doesn't look great littered with strollers, but at least there's a place to put the stroller after a walk without having to schlepp it (and the kid) to the back of the house to stow the stroller in the garage and then have to carry Oliver back in the house. I like that our garage is extra wide too so that we have room to fit our cars and strollers off to the side for long-term storage. And who knows how many outdoor play things you'll accumulate too and they all need a place to be stored.
Think about storage inside the house too. With smaller homes, you might not be able to have a separate playroom, but closets are helpful for stowing big playthings when guests come over. If you're thinking of more than one kid, think about where you'll store all the stuff you're saving from kid #1 for future kid #2.
Busy streets and noise producers
Every realtor we've had has steered us clear of busy streets, but with kids it becomes a safety and quality of life issue (noise). Watch out for other sources of noise, like a fire station or a playground. Little did we know that our house sits three houses away from the neighborhood's tornado siren...
Mudroom or proper entry closets
Your kid may be smaller than you, but he or she will have just as many shoes, boots, jackets, scarves, mittens, etc. and will eventually have a bookbag, musical instruments, sports equipment and whatever else they will dump at the door after getting off the school bus. This will all need somewhere to go, while also being accessible for the next mad dash out the door.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Santa Fe
Despite longing to travel internationally again, there's so much of my own country I still have yet to see. The United States is a freakin' big country and even if you've visited the nation's top destination attention-getters, (New York City, Disney World and California) I believe you've barely begun to see the country. My recent trip to Santa Fe, New Mexico reminded me how diverse culturally, geographically and historically the United States is and it's a part of the country I'm happy I was able to see. While not your typical spring break travel destination, we picked it because neither Chris or I had ever been, it was warmer there than in Minnesota, and we'd heard it was a charming, walkable city with plenty to see.
While traveling with a toddler meant that we missed out on much of Santa Fe's contemporary cultural contributions - art and food, (I didn't dare do more than peak into the most stroller-accessible galleries and we did get a dose of New Mexican cuisine, but often in the form of take-out to accommodate Oliver's bedtime) we explored as much of the city as Oliver could handle. Santa Fe is a small, walkable city (and otherwise stroller-friendly, except for some narrow sidewalks along the centuries-old streets) and we were able to reach most of the places we wanted to see within the city limits in a 30-minute walk or less. It looks so different from any city I've ever been to that even just walking through neighborhoods and looking at the adobe houses was interesting.
No matter how kid-friendly you try to be, some things just aren't meant for kids and kid and adult interests don't always mix. Chris and I split up at points throughout the trip so we could each do things we wanted to do without a kid in tow and so that we could be fair to Oliver. Because I wanted to see the (quiet and little-kid-free) Georgia O'Keefe Museum, (again, like the galleries, there are just some places not meant for young children) Chris took Oliver to Santa Fe's children's museum for the morning. Another day Oliver and I enjoyed a low-key day centered around his schedule so that Chris could going skiing in Taos.
I wasn't sure how Oliver would handle the new vacation schedule, but true to his personality, skipping his afternoon nap was non-negotiable. So we divided our sightseeing into chunks we could accomplish over a long morning or a short, late afternoon and then got back to the house we were renting in time for lunch and a nap. When he had trouble sleeping one afternoon, we decided last-minute that should be the afternoon we take the long drive to Bandelier National Monument and let Oliver sleep in the car. He did sleep, briefly, and after a pleasant hike on a beautiful afternoon, we thought we'd gotten away with an outing we wouldn't have had time for if Oliver had napped at home. Then he started crashing on the drive back to Santa Fe and by the time we made it home, our sweet child had morphed into the crankiest mess we had ever witnessed and he willingly went to bed an hour and a half early with no dinner. We felt so guilty. Even though we often underestimated how long we'd be away from home in the morning and pushed the limits of Oliver's nap time, after that afternoon at Bandelier, we made sure we made it back to the house to give him time for a quality nap in his pack 'n' play.
With Santa Fe as our base, we never ventured much beyond an hour's drive of the capitol, so there's still a lot of the state we didn't get to see. But what we saw was magnificent. Our favorite place was Kasha-Katuwe Tent Rocks National Monument. We walked with Oliver a half a mile towards the trail that would take us 1.5 miles into the narrow Slot Canyon and culminate in a steep, 630-foot climb to the top of the mesa. We'd gain at least 1,200 feet in elevation during our hike. Because of the steep climb and uneven terrain, Oliver hitched a ride most of the way in the Ergo.
I thought the scenery was beautiful before we reached the canyon, but a few feet down the Canyon Trail and the canyon walls soared above us with cone-shaped tent rock formations perched against the deep blue New Mexico sky. Like I had experienced in Mount Rainier National Park where the beauty was overwhelming, I couldn't stop taking pictures.
We also really enjoyed Bandelier National Monument and Pecos National Historic Park. Because we wanted to do something that Oliver could manage, we limited ourselves to "hiking" the main 1.5-mile paved trails that looped around the visitor centers. We were surprised by how far he could walk, and although he could have cared less about the scenery or the historical markers that dotted the trails, (which I wanted to stop and read word-for-word) he loved the freedom of walking on his own.
Our time away in New Mexico was special because Oliver got to spend so much time with his dad. Chris is so busy right now with work travel and school and I hadn't realized until our vacation how much we needed time away as a family. It's rare when Chris has the opportunity to spend days on end with Oliver and I enjoyed having my other half around full time to split parenting duties.
The vacation was also bittersweet because I realized it would probably be the last time we'd spend that much quality time together as a family of three. We look forward to having another child and we know we won't be able to imagine life without him or her. Yet there's a sentimental part of me that doesn't want to forget what it was like when it was just the three of us.
While traveling with a toddler meant that we missed out on much of Santa Fe's contemporary cultural contributions - art and food, (I didn't dare do more than peak into the most stroller-accessible galleries and we did get a dose of New Mexican cuisine, but often in the form of take-out to accommodate Oliver's bedtime) we explored as much of the city as Oliver could handle. Santa Fe is a small, walkable city (and otherwise stroller-friendly, except for some narrow sidewalks along the centuries-old streets) and we were able to reach most of the places we wanted to see within the city limits in a 30-minute walk or less. It looks so different from any city I've ever been to that even just walking through neighborhoods and looking at the adobe houses was interesting.
No matter how kid-friendly you try to be, some things just aren't meant for kids and kid and adult interests don't always mix. Chris and I split up at points throughout the trip so we could each do things we wanted to do without a kid in tow and so that we could be fair to Oliver. Because I wanted to see the (quiet and little-kid-free) Georgia O'Keefe Museum, (again, like the galleries, there are just some places not meant for young children) Chris took Oliver to Santa Fe's children's museum for the morning. Another day Oliver and I enjoyed a low-key day centered around his schedule so that Chris could going skiing in Taos.
I wasn't sure how Oliver would handle the new vacation schedule, but true to his personality, skipping his afternoon nap was non-negotiable. So we divided our sightseeing into chunks we could accomplish over a long morning or a short, late afternoon and then got back to the house we were renting in time for lunch and a nap. When he had trouble sleeping one afternoon, we decided last-minute that should be the afternoon we take the long drive to Bandelier National Monument and let Oliver sleep in the car. He did sleep, briefly, and after a pleasant hike on a beautiful afternoon, we thought we'd gotten away with an outing we wouldn't have had time for if Oliver had napped at home. Then he started crashing on the drive back to Santa Fe and by the time we made it home, our sweet child had morphed into the crankiest mess we had ever witnessed and he willingly went to bed an hour and a half early with no dinner. We felt so guilty. Even though we often underestimated how long we'd be away from home in the morning and pushed the limits of Oliver's nap time, after that afternoon at Bandelier, we made sure we made it back to the house to give him time for a quality nap in his pack 'n' play.
With Santa Fe as our base, we never ventured much beyond an hour's drive of the capitol, so there's still a lot of the state we didn't get to see. But what we saw was magnificent. Our favorite place was Kasha-Katuwe Tent Rocks National Monument. We walked with Oliver a half a mile towards the trail that would take us 1.5 miles into the narrow Slot Canyon and culminate in a steep, 630-foot climb to the top of the mesa. We'd gain at least 1,200 feet in elevation during our hike. Because of the steep climb and uneven terrain, Oliver hitched a ride most of the way in the Ergo.
I thought the scenery was beautiful before we reached the canyon, but a few feet down the Canyon Trail and the canyon walls soared above us with cone-shaped tent rock formations perched against the deep blue New Mexico sky. Like I had experienced in Mount Rainier National Park where the beauty was overwhelming, I couldn't stop taking pictures.
We also really enjoyed Bandelier National Monument and Pecos National Historic Park. Because we wanted to do something that Oliver could manage, we limited ourselves to "hiking" the main 1.5-mile paved trails that looped around the visitor centers. We were surprised by how far he could walk, and although he could have cared less about the scenery or the historical markers that dotted the trails, (which I wanted to stop and read word-for-word) he loved the freedom of walking on his own.
Our time away in New Mexico was special because Oliver got to spend so much time with his dad. Chris is so busy right now with work travel and school and I hadn't realized until our vacation how much we needed time away as a family. It's rare when Chris has the opportunity to spend days on end with Oliver and I enjoyed having my other half around full time to split parenting duties.
The vacation was also bittersweet because I realized it would probably be the last time we'd spend that much quality time together as a family of three. We look forward to having another child and we know we won't be able to imagine life without him or her. Yet there's a sentimental part of me that doesn't want to forget what it was like when it was just the three of us.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Boy or Girl?
I love surprises and Chris doesn't. Since the suspense of my last pregnancy just about darn did him in, we've made the decision to find out the sex of the baby at my 20-week ultrasound. I realized that Chris feels more strongly about finding out the sex than I do about keeping it a surprise. Sure, a part of me wishes we both wanted to wait until the birth to find out the sex, but I've also accepted the idea that I will still be surprised, just 20 weeks earlier.
But not all the fun with surprises is lost. I love surprising people more than being surprised, so we compromised about finding out the sex at 20 weeks by agreeing that we wouldn't tell anyone what we're having. Chris will feel more relaxed just knowing and I can revel in the suspense before the big reveal of the sex, the name and of course, the birthday, which not even we can know for sure ahead of time, all at once. Being able to announce to friends and family who had no idea what we were having or even what names we were seriously considering that we'd had a boy named Oliver was one of the most special moments of his birth. (Of course, having him earlier than even I had expected I think helped up the ante of surprise when the announcement came.) I couldn't think of doing it any differently the second time around.
And just like not telling anyone your name choices avoids unsolicited opinions about those choices, the same goes for letting the birth of the child reveal the sex. If folks feels sorry for me because I had another boy or for my husband because he, gasp, had a girl, they're about as likely to admit that after the baby is born as they are to admit they think Oliver is a silly name.
Honestly, I don't have even an inkling of preference for one sex over the other. I could end up with all boys and would be perfectly happy and not think that my job as a parent was easier or more difficult, or more or less interesting or fulfilling than if I had all girls or some of each.
If you ask me what you think I'm having, my guess at the moment is it's a girl. I thought that the last time though and my guess this time around is based purely on the fact that my pregnancy feels different than when I was pregnant with Oliver. It's like he set the benchmark in my mind that that's how a pregnancy with a boy feels like. Therefore, an experience any different must be a girl.
And come October, you will find out.
But not all the fun with surprises is lost. I love surprising people more than being surprised, so we compromised about finding out the sex at 20 weeks by agreeing that we wouldn't tell anyone what we're having. Chris will feel more relaxed just knowing and I can revel in the suspense before the big reveal of the sex, the name and of course, the birthday, which not even we can know for sure ahead of time, all at once. Being able to announce to friends and family who had no idea what we were having or even what names we were seriously considering that we'd had a boy named Oliver was one of the most special moments of his birth. (Of course, having him earlier than even I had expected I think helped up the ante of surprise when the announcement came.) I couldn't think of doing it any differently the second time around.
And just like not telling anyone your name choices avoids unsolicited opinions about those choices, the same goes for letting the birth of the child reveal the sex. If folks feels sorry for me because I had another boy or for my husband because he, gasp, had a girl, they're about as likely to admit that after the baby is born as they are to admit they think Oliver is a silly name.
Honestly, I don't have even an inkling of preference for one sex over the other. I could end up with all boys and would be perfectly happy and not think that my job as a parent was easier or more difficult, or more or less interesting or fulfilling than if I had all girls or some of each.
If you ask me what you think I'm having, my guess at the moment is it's a girl. I thought that the last time though and my guess this time around is based purely on the fact that my pregnancy feels different than when I was pregnant with Oliver. It's like he set the benchmark in my mind that that's how a pregnancy with a boy feels like. Therefore, an experience any different must be a girl.
And come October, you will find out.
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