DC Metro Moms

RIP People Movers of IAD

I have always preferred Dulles International Airport above all other DC area airports.  Dulles is ten minutes from where I currently live; however, even when I was inside the Beltway, it was my airport of choice.  The Toll Road makes it easily accessible, the parking is ample, and the architecture of the main terminal is breathtaking on the horizon.

I even loved those Mobile Lounges, a.k.a. People Movers.  Journeys originating and ending at IAD included a free ride to and from the terminals where airplanes were parked.  Those lumbering behemoth vehicles criss-crossed the airport grounds, delivering passengers here and there.  Now those People Movers are going the way of the dodo, replaced by the sleek AeroTrain.  Last week, the AeroTrain became operational after 15 years of planning and construction.  The AeroTrain will undoubtedly make the transition from security check-in to aircraft boarding smoother, once the glitches get ironed out.

Snow day!

I consider myself a Washingtonian through and through.  The Husband knows that I do not have the ability desire to live farther north than where we are now because I am not a fan of cold weather.  The first time he dragged me to his hometown in the Midwest, it was NEGATIVE ELEVEN DEGREES FAHRENHEIT.  Yes, you read that right.  It was stupidly cold and I, the wuss of cold weather, did not handle it well.  The Husband assured me that that was much colder than normal, but I refused to believe him.  I told him it had to be true love if I was still willing to marry him despite knowing we'd travel annually to the place I dubbed Where Cold is Manufactured and Exported to the DC Area.

Still, I do love an occasional snow storm like the one we are currently experiencing.  I think it's the former school teacher in me; I get giddy with the anticipation of having a day off work due to snow!  I enjoy waking up to the silent white world, wrapping my hands around a hot mug of tea as I sit and stare out the window at gently falling snowflakes.  Later on, if I manage to shuck off my jammies, I might go outside to brush off my car and shovel a little snow, just to make it safe.  Then back inside for hot chocolate, a warm fuzzy blanket, a good book, and a nice cozy nap.

SAD

At the beginning of every autumn, I look forward to colorful trees, cooler weather, apple-picking, and Halloween and Thanksgiving.  I become giddy at the thought of one good snowfall--but only one, please.  However, every autumn also brings me to a period of mourning.  For summer...lazy days of sunshine...those days of soda and pretzels and beer...

It reaches a point where I withdraw into myself and find little to no happiness in things that normally I enjoy.  I sleep a lot.  I am sluggish and slow and moody and not myself.  All my normal activities become chores, and The Husband knows to allow me to have as much time with my bed as possible.  

Seasonal Affective Disorder.  Call it what you will--the winter blues, winter depression, whatever.  I have it, I suffer from it, it affects me.  For years, I refused to acknowledge its presence in my life, thinking it was all in my head and that it would go away if I pretended the symptoms weren't there.  However, there is no ignoring the symptoms that have persisted despite all my best efforts to stave them off.

Online Friendships

My cable modem quit on a few weeks back.  One very long frustrating call to Cox (in which I shouted gibberish to the automated voice in order to finally get a human on the line) secured a date with the repairman for the next day.  It would be about 24 hours without the internet.  Surely I could survive without having a panic attack, a la Sarah, right?  No problem.

Well.  I was amazed at how many times I turned to the internet for some information:  to check my email, to find a recipe, to look up a phone number, or to simply Google something for clarification.  And each time, I was brutally rebuffed by that No Connection screen.  I had to actually open up the White Pages book to get that phone number!

I Drive a Minivan

A friend recently had status messages on Twitter that read something like this:

Getting my SUV appraised. Am I really just one child away from the minivan? Stay tuned.

Depressed at the thought of driving a minivan. The alternative is for Firstborn Child to climb in through the trunk when the baby arrives. 

On our way the car dealership. Husband is ready to haggle.

I am a new Odyssey owner. The deed is done. Guess I can’t deny my journey into being that suburban soccer mom anymore.

Amused, I followed the responses of her friends.  There were two distinct camps:  the first told her not to cave in!  Remain strong!  Do not get a minivan!  You can fit three kids in this or that car!  It’s so not cool! Minivans are boring!

Life's a Beach

I’ve been vacationing at Rehoboth Beach,, Delaware for the past 13 years or so.  As a young, single professional, I joined a beach house share with friends.  I spent many weekends at The Bungalow (as we called it) with other young professionals sunning on the sand, drinking margaritas at sunset, walking the boardwalk, being lazy on the front porch of our rented house, etc.  Since I had summers off, I often extended my weekends into the weekdays and almost always convinced a friend to stay with me.  We’d sleep late, eat bad-for-you beach food, windsurf on the bay, and explore the Lewes, Rehoboth, Dewey, Fenwick Island, and Bethany area.

I look back fondly on my five summers of being a shareholder in The Bungalow.  I made lots of memories and cemented my closest friendships there. Alas, The Bungalow was sold, and the new owner didn’t want to lease it out anymore.  That was around the time The Husband and I got engaged, so we weren’t sure we wanted to continue participating in The (mostly singles) Bungalow anyway.  My happy-go-lucky summers of practically living at Rehoboth came to an end.

What about the children?

I’ve never had to think about my health care insurance.  I’ve had excellent coverage my entire life--first as a dependent of my government employee parents, and then as a public school teacher.  Sometimes I find it a pain to navigate the red tape of the insurance companies (who doesn't?!), but I am secure in knowing that my health care costs are paid (for the most part).

It blows my mind that there are millions of people in this country who do have to worry about their health care costs.  People who don’t have insurance for one reason or other.  It blows my mind even more that there are innocent children who are a part of this group of uninsured.  I can’t help but wonder how do these families manage…and why aren’t we stepping in to help care for these people?

I Miss my Maternity Clothes

I have a confession to make:  I miss my maternity clothes.

What brings this on, you might ask?  A frustrating afternoon of clothes shopping with my little sister (she is actually older than I am, but she’s definitely smaller than me) in which I was completely dissatisfied with my size and body.  Nothing fit right.  All the lumps I was trying to hide seemed to be spotlighted.  What’s with these “modern” cuts of clothing?  Why is this shirt draping so weirdly over my torso?  How am I supposed to get that pair of pants to stay up if they are riding so low on my very short-waist?

"Recovering" Perfectionist

I am a “recovering” perfectionist.  I like things to be just so and will work tirelessly to ensure everything I do is perfect.  (Ask me how many times I revised this post before it got published!).  It drives The-go-with-the-flow-Husband batty when I get into one of my Gotta Get it Right moods.

Motherhood is curing me of perfectionism because really, life with children cannot be lived flawlessly!  Since having babies, I am no longer on time for anything.  My clothes often have stains of some type of food, usually bestowed up on me by a generous child.  And we all know kids are natural mess-makers.  My house is in a perpetual state of disaster unless you are coming over, in which case it all gets stuffed into closets, cupboards, and wherever else I can cram it.  This is to ensure the at least the appearance of perfection, which appeals to the “recovering” side of my personality.

Strangely, I work hardest at appearing picture perfect when I'm getting together with other moms.  When prepping for playgroups, or MOPS, or school functions, I make sure my kids are dressed in clean clothes—coordinating outfits, if I can manage (which is oh, pretty much never!).  Their hair is neatly combed and Cupcake’s ponytail even has a matching ribbon tied in it.  I spend a few moments on my own appearance.  I put on my most reasonably presentable outfit, slap on a little make-up, and try to find socks that match.  

Teachers, Students, and The Recession

My very first teaching job was in one of the lowest achieving schools in an affluent area.  The faculty meeting in late September included the topic of coats for the impending cold weather.  Several students would not have coats, and we the faculty had a discussion as to how we could gather coats from the community:  soliciting donations from businesses, scouring the local Goodwill stores, and even cleaning out our own closets.

I walked away from that meeting shaking my head, dismayed to learn that many of my own students lacked coats.  Moreover, I was shocked to discover that the teachers were working to ensure the children wouldn’t get cold.  What happened to just teaching the three Rs?