We had some visitors this week. Tim's sister Sheri and her two girls, Taylor and Jamie (10 and 8) came up to New York for a few days. It was absolutely amazing to have them here! Alice adored seeing the girls again and was peeking around the corners in our apartment expecting them to pop out after they left which was so cute, but really just broke my heart a little bit. I know our time up here is ticking away as we all long to be closer to the people we call home. For me, it was so nice to be out of the routine Alice and I have gotten into. I guess I should call it a rut then, right? Every few days Alice is capable of something completely new and different and sometimes I need to be reminded that she will pleasantly surprise me if I throw her a curve ball now and then. She needs to explore and grow, but as the person who carts her around sometimes I just want to feel on top of things for a few days before I am confident enough to go further and for longer. In New York, we don't have a car so every fit and episode is completely public and at least an hours public transport and walk away from home. And let me tell you, after her first few months of colic or gas or whatever the hell that was- I am fully aware of how loud, furious, and unrelenting Alice can be. But when Sheri and the girls were here I pushed her and with one exception she was absolutely fabulous! We breastfed in public, she got her first restroom diaper change (my 8 year old niece had to clue me in to where the changing station was... in the handicapped stall apparently), we were away from home in strange and loud places for 7 hours straight, she took all her naps happily strapped to the front of me in the wrap. We saw the St. Patricks Day parade even and she was fine. I was/am so proud of her and all the strange new things she scoffed at.
BUT THEN... I decided to take her on her first stroller ride as she is getting bigger and it is getting hotter and the reality of our situation is that I sweat like a man and this summer is going to be hot so there is no freaking way I am carting around a 17 lb. heater strapped to my chest all season long. I kid you not, Alice has not been in a stroller yet and she is 6 and a half months old. Every time I have left this apartment she has been strapped to the front of me, even though I am usually carrying 8 bags of groceries 15 blocks back from the store. New York, geez. I love you, but you're breaking my back. Anyway, I popped her into the stroller and she must have had car seat flashbacks or something because it was like I was strapping her in with barbed wire! She calmed down a bit once we got moving though and actually made it about 4 blocks before having what can only be described as a complete shitfit. She wouldn't even bend her arms at the elbows when I was trying, completely beaten, to pick her up out of the stroller and carry her back home. It makes me laugh a little bit in retrospect because I learned something really important that day: Everyone wants to talk to you when your child is having a meltdown. I had dudes lined up to sympathize. Seriously, I haven't talked to strangers that much since well, Saint Patricks Day actually but they were all drunk (?). It had been a long time before that. Perhaps we should just get out more. We can handle it.
But when we are in, nice things happen too.