I (heart) NYC
One of my favorite cousins lives in NYC with his fabulously kind girlfriend and they graciously agreed to let us crash at their Queens pad and have a day in the city over our Presidents day holiday from school.
We arrived easily and a tad earlier than we thought because the traffic was nothing and the children were lovely and easy in the car although Chica asked us no less–NOT AN EXAGGERATION– than 67 times, “Are we in Queens?” during the first hour of our trip. sigh.
We get there and head off to Manhattan for pizza and a walk and the children are lovely and it is cold a little rainy but nice and it was great to be there again. I love New York so much and would love to live there but the rents and housing are a scandal! I am too cheap. The buildings are tall, everyone looks fabulous and it is so busy and important seeming. We retire back to Queens via the subway which was deemed totally awesome by our kids and we settled down for the night. The took forever to fall asleep and then kept sliding off the couch onto my head while I slept on our comfy airmatress. D got up and volunteered to sleep on the couch and I pulled the kids onto the mattress with me. MUCH BETTER, right? We sleep this way for a while and then Chica has to poop. She does and it is 3:24 am. Then Spawn has to pee. He does and it is 3:41am. NO ONE FALLS BACK TO SLEEP. NO ONE. Well, to be fair, I scared Spawn sufficiently and he slept off and on until about 6:30am and when awake had the sense to stay still and quiet. CHICA on the other hand stayed awake. Talking. Kicking me and just rolling around. Tossing and turning bouncing me every 6 minutes awake to be more angry then I have ever been. I know she was excited. I know she worships Kolby and Kait but for goshs sake, why can’t you just fall back to sleep when you are yawning every 4 minutes while you say, “I am not tired reawwy Mama. Reawwy.”
We finally got out of bed about 7:15ish. I take a shower, make them some food and try to keep them quiet. We all get ready and leave for Manhattan and the Natural History Museum at about 9:30.
OH, I forgot to mention that they have a Wii and Spawn likes it. alot. reawwy. alot.
SO, we are wandering around and every 15 minutes during a pause in exhibits Spawn says forlornly, “I really wish I could play the Wii. Can I play the Wii?”
I remind him we are out. In a museum of his choosing looking at the stuff HE wants to see. He doesn’t wait for anyone. Wants to race through every exhibit and refuses to stay with the group. I spend most of my times chasing him and trying to get him to look and read some exhibits. AND Alden is tired. duh. Getting up at 3ish am will do that and she “can’t walk, I’m tired. I can’t walk. I’m tired. ggggaaaaaaahhhhhhhh…..blaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh….aaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrgggggghhhhhhhh,,,,blaaaaaaaaaa….gahhhhhhhhh..”
I feel nothing but contempt for her BUT I fashion a sling from my scarf and carry her around. She rests. I sit with her. I feed her bits of food. She eats. She whines. She cries. I carry her. She walks some. She cries. I loathe her every breath.
We leave and eat lunch outside because the weather is lovely and beautiful and warm and sunny. We go back and are there for 3 minutes when Chica says, “I HAVE TO GO TO THE BATHROOM RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!” She is crying and jumping up and down. I take her and we walk and walk and walk to find a bathroom and we get to one and there is line. She is crying and telling me how she has to GO NOW!! NOW!! The agony. I tell her it would be better to tell Mama as soon as she has to go rather than when she is about to wet her pants. She just screams as we wait.
Then she says, “Oh. I thin I pooped my pants.”
I say, “Really? Well, we have to wait our turn. Don’t poop anymore.” Seriously, what else could I say? Then mercifully the stall opens up and the women ahead of us says, “You need this more than me. Go ahead.”
I almost cry but am too mad at Chica and I pull down her pants slowly so I don’t get poop on anything else…she is 4 and I don’t bring changes of clothes with me any longer…..and she is SCREAMING AT ME to get her on the tolilet and I do and stick my finger right in her pooey pants. She poops and says loudly, “AAAaaaaaaahhhh. That feels good.” Good for her.
We get washed and I find a bag to put her poopy panties in and I bandage her blister using my Mama McGuyver skills to fashion a suitable bandage out of gausze and tape because while I remembered to bring my first aid kit I forget that Chica and her friend Sabine remove all the bandaids and bandage our Mazda while camping this October. It takes us about 20 minutes to use the bathroom.
We try one more exhibit and the whining does not stop and I declare defeat and we make plans to leave. While standing in line to get out coats from the coat check rip off of the century place I clutch the tokens for our garments in my left hand and instinctively reach to scratch my nose with my right hand.
It smells like poopy.
I resist the urge to leave her near a tree on the Upper West Side…she is blond and lovely looking, surely some childless rich couple would pity her and take her into their home and I could be free. Free of her and her clinging whiney demanding bossy little self.
The subway car jerks to a stop and I am jolted out of my fantasy and look at her pink cheeks and blond hair and smell her neck and kiss it and know that I love her. I have no earthly idea why I do, but I do love her.
We pack up and leave. It takes 11.3 minutes for her to fall asleep. She talks in her sleep and calls for KAIT! and says to WAIT UP, WAITTTTT! We make it home and put them in bed and they fall fast asleep.
D and I are exhausted and go to bed about 10ish. We are awakened at 12:36 by Spawn who says, “I think I threw up in my bed….OH, wait….bleack!” and then turns and pukes again on the bathroom floor. It takes me an hour to pick all the bits of carrot out of the carpet and to get most, but not all, of the vomit smell out.
I fall into my bed at 1:45 am and try to fall back to sleep. Home again, home again, jiggity, jig.