Gate C52 offers moral support

Bug, Squish, and I flew home to Boston this morning after a quick visit with family.  As we pulled into the rental car return area, Bug exclaimed, "I want to ride in the shark stroller!"

Ah, the shark  stroller.  A purchase from the day before when we had gone to the zoo.

Why did we buy a stroller to go to the zoo?

Because when the three of us were trying to go from our car to Logan three days ago, I officially declared the stroller we have had since Bug was four months old broken.  Broken like the foot strap broke off a year ago.  Broken like some metal bar that seems important to the frame and general purpose of the stroller detached itself months ago.  Broken like every time Squish tried to sit in the stroller while we were in the parking lot at Logan, the stroller collapsed in on him.  Broken. 

I put the broken stroller into the back of the car, grabbed the baby carrier for my thirty-pound two-and-a-half-year old, and away we went.

So when we all decided to go to the zoo yesterday, I figured it was the perfect time to buy a stroller at a big box store.  A nice, cheap-o stroller that we could take to the zoo, and back on the plane, and on our big family trip to Greece in two weeks, and wherever else we want to go all summer long.

We bought a perfect stroller with a canopy that looks like a shark (with a fin that sticks up off of the canopy and teeth that hang below).  We arrived at the zoo, parked, and when I opened the trunk I realized the stroller had several plastic zip ties that warranted a pair of scissors or a knife before use.  So I closed the trunk, opted for a rental stroller at the zoo, and wondered if I might have some kind of predisposition to be just about 87% prepared for everything in life.

Back at the rental car return this morning, Bug exclaimed, "I want to ride in the shark stroller!"

This was not exactly what I had hoped to hear from him.  I had hoped that Squish would ride in the stroller while Bug walked calmly next to me to the baggage drop, through security, to the gate, all the way to the airplane.

Bug was insistent about the stroller despite my best pleas to his mature side.

I asked Squish if Bug could ride in the stroller while Squish rode in the carrier ("with Momma!" - as if being closer to me would somehow lure him away from the magical shark stroller).  Squish wanted no part of the carrier. 

I asked Bug if he could ride in the stroller until security, and then if Squish could ride from security to the gate.  He seemed willing to accept this offer.  I cut Squish out of the negotiations, and Squish went into the carrier, Bug went into the stroller, I put my enormous bag on the back of the stroller, and I managed to roll the suitcase all the way from the car to ticketing and the baggage drop.

This feat earned me something in life.  I have no idea what yet, but I feel entitled to something wonderful just for that twenty-minute period this morning.

Eventually, of course, Squish found his way into the stroller, and Bug found his way into a fit.  He kept up his fit all the way to Gate C52. 

"Momma, his turn is so long!"

"Momma, I want to be in the stroller!"

"Momma, you are ignoring me!!"

Well, yes, yes, I was trying to ignore the fit.  But apparently I had failed.

Somehow the tide turned, as it always does, and between claiming that I had been ignoring the pain of stroller withdrawal and waiting for Zone 1 to board, the boys were hopping around excited to fly home.

They were zooming around, arms outstretched, making airplane noises.  They were standing on the seats by the windows counting planes at gates nearby.

Zone 2 was called to line up.

Squish, standing on a seat by the window, had an accident.  As the pee became a puddle on the seat, Bug said, "Good thing he's wearing his rain boots!"

Indeed.

I got out about thirty-seven wipes and tried to clean the seat.  I looked back at Squish and saw that he had pulled down his pants and undies.  I turned my attention from the seat to Squish.  I changed his undies and pants.  I tried my best to dry the chair.  I grabbed our things, corralled both boys, handed over our tickets to get on the plane and said, "I'm not sure if this is your job or if you can even do anything about it, but my son had an accident in that seat over there, and I tried to wipe it up with wipes, but you might want to send someone over to take a look."

The gate attendant said, "What's that?  An accident?  What?"

I said "My son had an accident.  He peed his pants in that chair over there.  I cleaned it up as best I could, but you all might want to have another look.  [I am losing my mind, sir.  We are very close to being home with my husband, which is what I want very badly, but there was a moment, about three minutes ago, when I wondered if we were actually going to miss our flight because I was trying to clean urine off of a chair with wet wipes.  Did you catch that?  I was trying to clean urine with wet wipes.  Oh, and I forgot to mention that all the while my son was disrobing in public.]"

The gate attendant then opened his eyes wide and said, "Oh my goodness!  You are a Super Mom!"

With that praise, I smiled and schlepped down to the plane with Bug, Squish, my enormous bag, and our shark stroller. 

Thank you, man who works at Gate C52.  That was exactly what I needed to hear today.

Brought to you by Squish

In the rocking chair, drifting off to a nap this afternoon:

Squish: "When I get bigger, I'm going to have a baby."

Me: "Oh that's great, love.  What baby?"

Squish: "Baby Mateo."

Me: "That's nice.  What will Baby Mateo do?"

Squish: "Baby Mateo is a nice baby.  He cries."

Me: "Hmmmm... he cries?  Maybe he is tired."

Squish quiet - closing his eyes.

Squish: "He a nice baby ... alligator eats Baby Mateo."

Me: "Wow - an alligator eats your baby?!?"

Squish: "Yeah - snap!"

Me: "Hmmm.  Sounds dramatic."

Squish: "Eats me and [Bug]."

Me: "That alligator eats Baby Mateo, then you, and then [Bug]?!?"

Squish: "Yes.  Snaps that monkey right out of that tree."

1.78 seconds later, Squish sleeps in my arms.

Monday morning

Before I put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway this morning, I turned around and asked the boys, "Are Mondays a little harder than every other day for us?"

Bug said, "Yeah."

Indeed they are.

Somewhere between trying to get little teeth brushed and socks on little feet, Squish fell over and bumped his face with his "guitar" (i.e., ukulele).


Yes, a ukulele.  Just to keep things nice and simple in the morning, what you really want is a ukulele in the bathroom while you try brushing your toddler's teeth and putting his socks on.  Everyone should try it.

I fly on planes

This morning, while I was eating breakfast with Bug and Squish, Bug said, "I am going to work!"

Then Squish said, "I am getting on a plane!"

At which point, they both laughed and laughed and started repeating their little mantra about going to work and getting on a plane over and over and over.

After I dropped the two goofballs off at daycare/preschool, I got on a plane for the fourth work trip in four weeks.

To be clear, I am slowly unraveling and saying things to Bug's Pre-K teacher like, "See you in a couple days!  Unless I quit, and then I guess I'll see you again tomorrow! Ha ha ha ha ha ha haaaaaaaa!"

But I have two silver linings.

First, I get to see a dear friend while I am on this trip to Atlanta.

Second, my travel has become a source of material for The Bug and Squish Comedy Hour - which is far better than my sorry little momma heart would have believed before this morning.

You win some, you lose some, Superwoman.

Does it ever feel like parenting is a series of wins and losses?  I am a logical and thoughtful person, and I know that parenting is not a zero-sum game.  Not a game at all, for that matter.  Sure.  Of course I know that.

But the feeling persists.  Sometimes as a quiet hum, and sometimes as a loud wail.  Today was like a wail.

This morning, for the first time in two weeks, Bug, Squish, and I were back to our morning routine.  And so, as anyone could have guessed, we had a late start.

Lesson? What lesson?

Santa gave Squish a toy cell phone, and Santa gave Bug a small robotic shark.

Early in the evening on Christmas, Bug wanted to play with Squish's toy cell phone.  He wanted to play with it very badly.  He tried to pry the toy from Squish's hands.  He started to yell for the toy.  As did Squish.

I intervened.

If you're up all night, does the sunrise really make it a new day?

This morning, around 7:45 am, as Bug, Squish, and I were getting ready to leave for the day, Bug had a fit.  He did not want to go to school.  He wanted to stay home.  He wanted my husband to appear magically transported from his job back at home. 

When we managed to get outside, about ten feet closer to the car and the ultimate goal of starting our "new" day, Bug looked at the melting snow in the yard and started to cry/yell: "I don't want the snow to melt!  I DON'T WANT THE SNOW TO MELT!"

Why was sweet Bug freaking out?