DC Metro Moms

Star Struck in the City

You might think that after living in Southern California for so many years that I am impervious to being rendered star struck. You would be wrong though. Seeing Ryan Seacrest at our favorite cafe regularly did nothing for me (honestly if Ryan Seacrest makes you weak in the knees, we need to talk), shopping alongside Nicole Ritchie...nothing. (Ok, I lie a little bit, she was really cool. And also, she was shopping while I was holding a scarf no thicker than my thumb thinking that even if I had two grand to buy it, I wouldn't.)

There is one thing that leaves me speechless and star struck. Washington, D.C. 

I grew up in Boulder, Colorado and government was some boring subject in an old book that had ten names written in it before mine and smelled vaguely of Nag Champa incense. It wasn't exciting and it certainly had no relevance to my life. Much like algebra. 

I would just die.

Recently the blogosphere has been ablaze with posts and conversations about the (incredibly talented) scantilly clad third graders rocking out to Beyonce's Single Ladies while at the same time pictures from Sh*tmykidsruined and The Huffington Post's Funniest Parenting Fails have been whizzing back and forth and they all make me think one thing.

I would just die if that was me/my child.

What on God's green earth are these people thinking? Letting their little girls hump the air while dressed like Christina Aguillera in Lady Marmalade! Who thinks it's a good idea duct taping their kids to a wall? Or even worse duct taping a small baby in a Bumbo to an ATV! Pardon my French, but what the hell?!

Flying and Toddlers and Tantrums - oh my!

 There are probably a thousand articles written on flying with toddlers and three times that many blog posts about the subject. I sure wish I had read some of them.

It's not that I wasn't prepared when we took our vacation last month, I was. I had toys and books, snacks and as many things to occupy him as I could stuff in my good old Petunia Picklebottom diaper bag.  I did my best. He is clearly to old to be enthralled by the flashing lights of baby toys now and too young to enjoy puzzles or to color for any length of time. Coloring was a judgement call. I'm certain Virgin American is thankful I left the crayons at home, their planes are colorful enough. 

I wish I'd read those articles and blog posts to have one simple thing validated: flying with a toddler is exhausting! At the end of each of those five hours; from D.C. to LA, from LA to HI, From HI back to LA and then from LA back to D.C. I seriously felt as though I hadn't slept for a week, had been run over by a bus and then forced to run on the treadmill for an hour. 

I was weary, people. Weary. 

Elisabeth Hasselbeck recently said she views flying as mommy's rest time. She settles em in, picks up a magazine and lets everyone else deal with her kids.

You know you do it too...right?

I was happily pushing my cart through the supermarket when it hit me, I was alone. Blissfully, unhurriedly alone. And suddenly grocery shopping was like... a respite, for lack of a better word. No one was demanding a fresh sippy cup, or needing a diaper change. It was just me and the shopping cart and 35 aisles of food and sundries. 

My sister-in-law is a baker, she makes cupcakes and lots of them. It's a delicious way to live, but not so good for my waistline. She needed some more supplies, and with a baby I always need something, so I volunteered to go. Volunteered to go to the grocery store. Once there I was surprised at how happy I was to do anything, even grocery shopping all alone. Now don't get me wrong, I'm obsessed with my kid. About 20 minutes after he goes to bed I miss him terribly, but this...this was different. I shopped leisurely, taking my time comparing products, and perhaps spending a little more time than necessary in the skin care and make up aisle.

I may have checked Twitter on my phone but I'm not admitting anything.

When did I cross that line? Can someone tell me, please? Suddenly hitting the store was a good time. Did I mention that I was blissfully alone??  If I had been at a Target with a Starbucks in it I would have recruited a random stranger to pinch me to make sure I wasn't dreaming!

Like mothers, like daughters, like sons.

One of the greatest joys of having children is reliving some of the things we enjoyed the first time around. How could I have forgotten the culinary genius of a perfectly cooked tater-tot? Delicious. Running around the playground is not just fun, but climb that ladder enough times and it's a great leg workout! The sheer joy my child has when I 'talk' on the phone to Elmo is so contagious that I may or may not have intricate and ongoing political discussion happening with him, and now with Abby Cadaby- my son's new love.

I am an only child, and as of now my son is as well. I loved being an only child. As I've grown older I find that one of the reasons I did is that whether I knew it or not I had a sibling, even if she had different parents and lived down the street.  I had a sister who just went home every once in a while. Sleepovers were big business in our world. We met in preschool when we were three and barely potty trained and come hell or high water we have been best friends ever since. When you have a friend like that, a friend without whom you don't have a single childhood memory in which she doesn't figure prominently, it's more than a friendship. She is my sister.

On the outside looking in...already.

I am on the outside of a love triangle and it's breaking my heart. Amusing me, and breaking my heart. It appears as if I have already been replaced in my little one's eye as the end all be all female. Yes, I've been usurped by a tiny 16 month old named Sadie. She has fluffy hair that she wears in a pony tail on top of her head and the sweetest little voice I've ever heard (other than Max's of course).

In preparation for our Hawaii trip, and to edge out the mind numbing nothing to do-ness of this snowy season I have been hitting the gym on the daily. Monday through Friday I escape to the elliptical, plug my earphones into the attached TV and delve into a show that doesn't involve anyone animated or threatening to swipe anything.

I was hesitant to use the gym daycare at first, and so I had been waiting till after the baby went to bed to rush out and get in my workout before the it closed. It was my husband who one fateful Monday he had off of work insisted we give it a try. I am so glad he did. The woman who runs the daycare is so fabulous I wish I could poach her for my very own. I mean, if I had such a lifestyle that I needed to poach a full time personal child care taker! Since I have been staying at home and since we know, well, basically no one in this area it's really been me and the kiddo against the world. I have loved this time together, but as he creeps steadily towards two I see more and more that he needs interaction with other children and to learn that I can go away but will always come back. The first few times we took a trip to the gym there were many tears (one or two of them may have even been mine but I'm not admitting to anything). After a week or so I would say to him "would you like to go to the gym and see Anna Maria?" and he would say 'ball!' which is code for 'why yes, I'd love to go to the big room that has a giant football looking thing on the door.'