Blogging the Solo-Parenting Days, Continued
So by now we all know just how much fun Christopher is having in New York. Okay, so the journey from the airport to the hotel sounded pretty hellish. But it's clear that the topless guitar-playing lady on the street more than made up for that. It's time for a brief update on how things are going back at home.
Julia and I survived our first day alone! I didn't fall asleep while reading "I Love You As Much" for the tenth time in a row! No one cried or had any temper tantrums. We did miss Daddy, but that is to be expected. (Somewhat alleviated by his pre-trip promise of a present upon his return--for Julia, I mean, though I believe I'll get something out of the deal as well.)
Julia woke up around 7:45 and instantly remembered Daddy was "bye-bye, at work, airpane." She was in a great mood though, sweet and cheerful, and she even allowed me to dress her in one of her new birthday outfits with no argument (she's going through an extremely stubborn wardrobe-pickiness phase, and most mornings, every clothing suggestion is met with, "No. Don't yike dat one. Put it away."). Though the sky threatened rain, we were able to play at a park, go for a walk in the stroller so Mama could get some exercise (I unashamedly bribe her into these stroller jaunts by timing them with her morning snack, so she can sit in the stroller and eat string cheese and, thrillingly, dry cereal--one of her most favorite things--which keeps her occupied while I raise my heart rate), and visit Target (of course!) for a few cleaning supplies we needed (and to check out the beloved "puppy seat," a blue plush tot-sized chair shaped like a dog that Julia is extremely in love with.)
We have been listening to a new (to us) Dan Zanes CD lately, "Family Dance," and Julia has begun to evaluate each song's opening strains for suitability and, often, say, "Don't yike dat song," and then, if you don't respond quickly enough, "Skip dat one!" This has gotten a little ridiculous, as today on our way home from Target she proclaimed most every song on the album as unlikable (except the one about carrying the water for the circus elephants, and, sweetly, the lovely, waltz-like evening serenade at the very end of the CD, which we call "the circle one"). But then she really cracked me up. After nixing a few songs in a row, she resorted to saying, "Don't yike dat song EITHER!" when the next one began. And she pronounced it like I do, like "EYE-ther". Something about this just cracked me up. Maybe because I've never even heard her say the word "either." Maybe because it sounded so adult. Maybe the way she practically yelled "EITHER," not really to be rude, just to be very, very emphatic.
Suppertime was the grand finale to our day. We met another mom and her toddler for dinner downtown at the Contented Cow. I had to order not only a turkey sandwich for me (and to share with Julia, I knew), but also a kids' mac-and-cheese for Julia AND a pink lemonade, all because there was a $10 minimum on debit/credit cards and I didn't have any cash. I knew Julia wouldn't eat the mac-and-cheese (she didn't), nor did I want the lemonade, but my options were limited. So anyway, imagine Julia's reaction when she saw the pink lemonade. I should mention here that Julia has never had juice, other than baby prune juice as an infant when her first tastes of rice cereal made her constipated, and Pedialyte as recommended by her pediatrician this spring when she was dehydrated from a virus with a high fever. She's a big girl, and she just doesn't need the sugar and calories of juice. Her first pediatrician advised us to avoid it, and we'd already decided before she was even born that we didn't want our kids to consume much, if any--preferring instead to train them to like milk and, mostly, water. So when Julia saw this big tall glass of enticing pink liquid, she looked at it intensely and quizzically, pulling on my arm, and saying over and over, "Mama's....water?" Because it was hectic and a little bit crazy there, I let her take a few sips. Yowza! Nectar of the gods! She was hooked. "More, more, more," was a word I heard repeatedly during our fun, but rather harried, supper. Finally I diluted it in her water sippy cup and let her have at it. She couldn't get enough of the stuff, and finally, after a large gulp, exclaimed enthusiastically, "Baby Julia YUV YEMONADE!!!!"
Oh, and since my sandwich came with potato chips (something I was not aware of when I ordered it), and since due to a lack of highchairs at this pub Julia was sitting right next to me on the booth bench, sharing my plate, naturally she decided that chips were preferable to turkey sandwich or the sliced cucumbers I'd brought from home.
So: dinner consisted of pink lemonade and potato chips. I supposed considering the fact that Daddy is out looking at topless guitar players (just kidding, honey! I know you're at a WORK CONFERENCE!), it's only fair that Julia gets to live it up a little bit too.
Julia and I survived our first day alone! I didn't fall asleep while reading "I Love You As Much" for the tenth time in a row! No one cried or had any temper tantrums. We did miss Daddy, but that is to be expected. (Somewhat alleviated by his pre-trip promise of a present upon his return--for Julia, I mean, though I believe I'll get something out of the deal as well.)
Julia woke up around 7:45 and instantly remembered Daddy was "bye-bye, at work, airpane." She was in a great mood though, sweet and cheerful, and she even allowed me to dress her in one of her new birthday outfits with no argument (she's going through an extremely stubborn wardrobe-pickiness phase, and most mornings, every clothing suggestion is met with, "No. Don't yike dat one. Put it away."). Though the sky threatened rain, we were able to play at a park, go for a walk in the stroller so Mama could get some exercise (I unashamedly bribe her into these stroller jaunts by timing them with her morning snack, so she can sit in the stroller and eat string cheese and, thrillingly, dry cereal--one of her most favorite things--which keeps her occupied while I raise my heart rate), and visit Target (of course!) for a few cleaning supplies we needed (and to check out the beloved "puppy seat," a blue plush tot-sized chair shaped like a dog that Julia is extremely in love with.)
We have been listening to a new (to us) Dan Zanes CD lately, "Family Dance," and Julia has begun to evaluate each song's opening strains for suitability and, often, say, "Don't yike dat song," and then, if you don't respond quickly enough, "Skip dat one!" This has gotten a little ridiculous, as today on our way home from Target she proclaimed most every song on the album as unlikable (except the one about carrying the water for the circus elephants, and, sweetly, the lovely, waltz-like evening serenade at the very end of the CD, which we call "the circle one"). But then she really cracked me up. After nixing a few songs in a row, she resorted to saying, "Don't yike dat song EITHER!" when the next one began. And she pronounced it like I do, like "EYE-ther". Something about this just cracked me up. Maybe because I've never even heard her say the word "either." Maybe because it sounded so adult. Maybe the way she practically yelled "EITHER," not really to be rude, just to be very, very emphatic.
Suppertime was the grand finale to our day. We met another mom and her toddler for dinner downtown at the Contented Cow. I had to order not only a turkey sandwich for me (and to share with Julia, I knew), but also a kids' mac-and-cheese for Julia AND a pink lemonade, all because there was a $10 minimum on debit/credit cards and I didn't have any cash. I knew Julia wouldn't eat the mac-and-cheese (she didn't), nor did I want the lemonade, but my options were limited. So anyway, imagine Julia's reaction when she saw the pink lemonade. I should mention here that Julia has never had juice, other than baby prune juice as an infant when her first tastes of rice cereal made her constipated, and Pedialyte as recommended by her pediatrician this spring when she was dehydrated from a virus with a high fever. She's a big girl, and she just doesn't need the sugar and calories of juice. Her first pediatrician advised us to avoid it, and we'd already decided before she was even born that we didn't want our kids to consume much, if any--preferring instead to train them to like milk and, mostly, water. So when Julia saw this big tall glass of enticing pink liquid, she looked at it intensely and quizzically, pulling on my arm, and saying over and over, "Mama's....water?" Because it was hectic and a little bit crazy there, I let her take a few sips. Yowza! Nectar of the gods! She was hooked. "More, more, more," was a word I heard repeatedly during our fun, but rather harried, supper. Finally I diluted it in her water sippy cup and let her have at it. She couldn't get enough of the stuff, and finally, after a large gulp, exclaimed enthusiastically, "Baby Julia YUV YEMONADE!!!!"
Oh, and since my sandwich came with potato chips (something I was not aware of when I ordered it), and since due to a lack of highchairs at this pub Julia was sitting right next to me on the booth bench, sharing my plate, naturally she decided that chips were preferable to turkey sandwich or the sliced cucumbers I'd brought from home.
So: dinner consisted of pink lemonade and potato chips. I supposed considering the fact that Daddy is out looking at topless guitar players (just kidding, honey! I know you're at a WORK CONFERENCE!), it's only fair that Julia gets to live it up a little bit too.
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