Posts Tagged ‘ losing things ’

Sesame Place

Sunday, August 7th, 2011

Showtime at Sesame Place

Showtime at Sesame Place

I finally broke down and did it. Became that person I never thought I’d be. I took Fia to Sesame Place. I think it may have been the best day of her little life thus far. The crazy thing is, it was one of my best too.

It was swelteringly hot with lots of crowds and crappy food courts. Basically everything I hate about amusement parks.

But seeing the look on her face when she saw Elmo in real life—(to quote the credit card ad) priceless. We were watching one of the many live shows and when he took the stage, her little 19-month-old body jumped up on the bench and started screaming and pointing “Elmo! Elmo!” I just sat there and watched her joy.

It must be how I look and act at a Madonna concert—though Fia’s much cuter in her innocent enthusiasm. And sober.

At another show she was in such a state of awe, she just sat there, jaw open, eyes wide–mesmerized. During the parade she was on my shoulders, pointing and shouting again. Cookie monster came by and high fived her. I debated ever washing her hands again.

Sesame Place Parade

Sesame Place Parade

There are really no words to describe what happens when you become a parent. And what happens when you live life through your children’s eyes.  I get so happy seeing her happy, it makes me physically weak.

I often wonder if men have same physiological reaction that women do when it comes to their kids. I know my husband can’t get enough of Fia. And when she hugs him or laughs at him, I can see him melt. But do they feel it in the same primal way as we do? Or is it different? I’ve asked him, but because he can’t walk in my shoes, he doesn’t know. He just knows he’s head over heels. None of this matters. Love isn’t a contest. I’m just curious if anyone can love her as strongly and deeply as I do.

At any rate, I told Phil he has to take a day off work in the next couple months and go to Sesame Place with us. He has to experience her in this fairytale of amusement park horrors. Then we can both officially become the people we never thought we’d be: Parents.

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Elmo, Babysitters and BlogHer

Thursday, August 4th, 2011

A World Sans Elmo

A WORLD SANS ELMO

I barely put my foot down in San Diego today for the BlogHer Conference when my husband called me. He sounded so serious.

“I think we need a new babysitter.”

My heart tightened. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, but you have something to blog about with sitters again.”

Oh dear lord, not the Sitter Chronicles again, I thought.

“What happened?” I said almost frantic.

“She lost Elmo.”

The world screeched to a stop. I felt dizzy. Saw bright lights. My brain turned fuzzy.

“OH NO!!!!!!!!” I screamed.

“Yep,” he says, “It’s true.”

This is a substitute sitter who we’ve only used once before. My regular sitter had to cancel at the last minute and with me going out of town; I had to scramble to find a replacement. I emailed her a list of stuff to be aware of last night, and one was Fia flinging her shoes off while she’s in the stroller. I’d hate to loose an expensive pair of stride rites. (I left this morning before she came and was completely freaked out about not being there in person to drill everything into her. Namely, no texting while strolling, stay on top of Fia at all times, don’t let her have pacifier during the day…you know the usual control freak issues of moms–or at least this one.)

But because she was so focused on Fia flinging her shoes, she didn’t notice the little red monster being hurled out on the street. She retraced her steps, but was too late. Elmo was gone. G-O-N-E.

I blame Phil. He should have told her not to take her monsters out of the house. This is what happens when mama leaves town. Things go south. Elmo becomes homeless.

As I type, Phil and Fia are on the way to the toy store to buy a replacement Elmo before bedtime (didn’t happen, see picture). Hopefully this is the biggest thing I will worry about while I’m out here for 3 days.  I’d really like to enjoy this conference of entrepreneurial women, maybe learn a thing or two, and sleep in!! So please sitters/husband/and Wayne Sanchez–I’ll even include you–Take care of my baby. And her accoutrements. In the words of our annoying, talking Sesame Street book, “See You Sooooon.”

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Travel Fiasco–My Scattered Self

Sunday, October 17th, 2010

I swear something happened after the birth of my child that has affected my brain circuitry.  Lord knows I want to be a good mom. I try and multitask with my husband, baby and job but…

3 WEEKS AGO…

–I took our cat, Wayne Sanchez, to the vet and paid $300 to find out he is still obese (He barely fits in his Sherpa bag). Then I ran errands. The next day my keys were missing. For nearly a week I searched while pretending nothing was amiss. After pressing our apartment buzzer every time I came home, Phil asked me to fess up. Then he said I need to focus more. True. I need to be more aware. True.

Wayne Sanchez and his co conspirator

Wayne Sanchez and his co conspirator

To redeem myself, I took a time out and sat in a quiet corner. I tried to retrace my steps, mentally. Wayne rubbed against me -boom! I had it, the Sherpa bag! I felt like I had just won the Pulitzer Prize for Missing Things. I called Phil on his cell and shouted, “I FOUND THEM IN WAYNE’S FAT CAT CARRIER!” “Um, okay, I’m in a meeting.” He wasn’t nearly as excited as I was.

2 WEEKS AGO…

–I was really trying to stay focused; I wanted Phil to see my improvement. We went to the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens and, whilst in the tropics room, he asked me to hold his Ray-bans. Instead of putting them in the diaper bag, I made what I thought was an intelligent decision… I held them so I didn’t accidentally crush them in the bag—something I’ve done before. I was smitten with myself. We walked outside and he asked for them. I looked into my hands – they had vanished. Poof! Just like that.

“A palm tree must have plucked them from my palm,” I said, attempting to joke.

Sigh. I went back into the jungle and crawled on all fours, searching Bougainvillea’s and Bromeliad’s to many a strange look. Nothing. If anyone goes there and finds them in the foliage, please let me know.

1 WEEK AGO…

–I blew so many fuses in my brain that I needed a circuit breaker. We were at the airport, checked in and at our gate. I went to change our seats while Phil watched Fi. The counter agents had me leave our boarding passes for them to work on. I went to sit down and Phil said, “you’re being paged.” Huh?

Before he could spit out the next line – Now what did you lose? – I bolted. Think. Think. Think. What. What? What? I had my laptop. Fia was accounted for. I looked in my purse. OH MY GOD. MY WALLET IS MISSING. My bolt turned into a sprint. At security they said it wasn’t their page, that I must have left it at check-in.  I got to the counter, hunched over, gasping for air. “I’m the o-o-n-one wh-wh-who left my wallet.” As I said this I realized I was holding half a bottle of formula. No clue why. It just added to the absurdity of it all.  The agent told me another worker had already taken the wallet to my gate.

As I began to run back to security, I stopped dead in my tracks. I turned towards the agents and frantically wailed: “I don’t have my ID to get through! My flight leaves in 20 minutes.”

They must have taken pity on me, because a very kind, calm agent took me by the arm.  “I’ll help you honey. It’s hard being a mom,” she said, as she glanced at the seemingly random half full baby bottle. We cut to the front of the line and she explained to TSA the problem. They asked for my boarding pass. Time once again stood still as the realization hit me: MY BOARDING PASS IS AT THE GATE. My entire torso began gesturing towards D-15. I was nearly hysterical. As my arms waved madly, formula began to bounce out of the bottle, spraying others – I swore I heard one woman say, “She needs a Xanax.” They called TSA supervision. I whimpered my pathetic situation to them, and they let me through.

I sprinted to the gate counter past a bewildered Phil and into the arms of yet another kind agent who was standing there—smiling– with my wallet.  Dripping in sweat and panting, I tried to explain all that had happened. “Slow down and breathe,” she said, “Motherhood is hard – Just don’t forget your baby!”

I dejectedly walked back to my family. “What the hell is going on?” Phil asked.

I begged, “Don’t be mad at me. You have to promise. Even they (gesturing towards the agents) said being a mom is hard.”

Fia, obviously unaffected by Mom's commotion
Fia, obviously unaffected by Mom’s commotion

“Okay, okay, just calm down. You’re kind of making a scene,” he said. True again.

“I left my wallet at check-in.” If my head had hung any lower it would have hit the filthy floor of LaGuardia.

He patted my leg. Fia hugged me, then bit my knee and laughed.  I began to breathe. We boarded. I collapsed into my seat and slept the entire time.

YESTERDAY…..

– I didn’t lose anything.

TODAY…..

– So far so good.

LOOKING AHEAD….

–I booked a woman’s yoga retreat this winter. In Belize. My justification: I need to learn to focus. Phil didn’t buy it, but he did give me his blessing (He probably needs the break). It will be my first trip away from Fi, so at least I know I won’t lose her.

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