I have to describe to you the day we had today because it's fading into the recesses of my memory all too quickly and it was just too good to be true. It was a comedy of errors from the start.
The day started at 1am. You read that correctly. That's 1am. Not 1pm. Our daughter decided that it was time to party and refused to go to sleep until the wee hour of 3 or 4 or some other such thing. When she woke up well rested at 7am, my husband and I drew straws for who would go to hang out with her and who would get to sleep a little more. I lost.
9:15am: We're leaving the house, on our way to Stroudsburg, somewhere in PA. We needed to stop by a local library to print out some coupons for ACMoore, since we'd be passing it on the way and I needed to get a fill for my yarn habit.
9:45am: We've on our way. Google could not exactly pin point the location of 5540 Rt. 611 but it didn't look too far. There were no numbers that I can spot as we drove (and the one I saw 534 didn't look encouraging), but the slew of abandoned buildings didn't look enticing.
10:05am: We finally get to the municipal center, with the police, etc. offices, and we ask a gentleman if there is a library somewhere near. He swears up and down that the closest library is a clear 5 miles in the opposite direction and that there isn't a library here. He says, go past Stroud Mall, you'll see a Midas, then you can't miss the building, it's on the left, it's huge, yada yada. Disappointed, we pull around the driveway to get back to the exit, and what do we see? Mount Pocono Public Library. It's on the other side of the building where we just had the conversation about the lack of such a library anywhere close.
10:10am: I enter the 2nd floor of the county library, and ask if there are computers with a printer that I can use. The very kind librarian points me to a set, and then, almost absent mindelessly asks if I am a resident. I, with a straight face, say yes. This is where I get in trouble. Since I have no proof that anyone actually pays taxes here, I have to buy a day pass. Undaunted, I ask: "How much is a day pass?" The librarian answers: "It's $3 for the week." It took all of my composure not to laugh at the fact that a day pass is only sold by the week.
10:12am: I head back to the car to get cash from my husband as I realize that I have none. I'm guessing they don't take cards.
10:15am: I sit down at the computer. I find ACMoore.com, I get to the coupons page. The library doesn't have Adobe Reader installed on the computers to I can't open the PDF page with the coupon. Argh.
10:17am: In a cold sweat, I search Google for a web based PDF reader. I find one called Issau or some other such thing (it's actually pretty good). They make me register. I would typically object to such a thing, but I no longer care. I am on a mission.
10:23am: I figure out how to screen shoot from the viewer since I can't figure out how to print from it (there is actually a clear print button, but i was too frazzled to see it). I print one copy. Check it. Pay the required 15cents per page to the librarian. I check my wallet, I have only 30 more cents, so my dreams of printing many coupons in the chance that we'll go back some time later in the week are dashed. I print 2 more pages, empty out my wallet and head back to the car to find one stark raving mad husband who has spent 30 minutes in the car waiting for me to get back from the library he didn't want to go to with coupons to a store he doesn't want to go to.
10:35am: We're finally on our way to Stroudsbourg. 5 miles go by. 7miles go by. 10 miles go by. We've now passed another municipal library. Still no "you can't miss it" building. Still no Midas. Finally at about 11am, we see the library, we see Midas, we see the huge building, and it actually was large and we didn't miss it.
11:05am: We stop at ACMoore. We buy yarn and then we do the calculation: $8 saved - $3 weekly day pass - $0.45 for copies - extra gas. Yeah - we had pretty much broken even.
I have to add another note here. Ever since we arrived here on Friday night, my husband has been in search of a good Chinese place. We didn't find one on Friday night. Since we were heading in a different direction today, we kept an eye out. Guess what? There are no Chinese places besides the greasy-spoon-take-out-joints within a 20 mile radius of the house. Oh, well, I guess we'll have to do this at home.
After we did get to Stroudsburg, we got complemented 4 times on what a nice little boy we have. I think I'll have to sew some flowers onto her jeans. Otherwise, she does look like a boy.
By the way, Stroudsburg is a very nice little town. I don't like that a major route with trucks and all goes right through the center, but otherwise, it's great. We had lunch at great Turkish restaurant called Istanbul cafe. They had fantastic kataifi and excellent Turkish coffee. We should know as my husband had 3 servings.
When we got home, we traded naps and then my husband made ostrich steaks. You read that correctly. Ostrich tastes like a mixture between chicken, turkey and beef. Try to imagine that or go to your local butcher and order some.
Showing posts with label Outings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Outings. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Thursday, July 17, 2008
"To Zip or Not to Zip" or "The Ode to My Car"
When my daughter was about 5 weeks old, I discovered that my car had a flat tire. Naturally, I did not discover this until I was already on the street, rolling along. Had I been without a baby in a two door car, I would have probably been much more composed. But alas, I was still high on my post-partum hormones, so this was not a calm moment for me. My first instinct was to cry. Which I did not. My second was to call my husband for help, which I did not. My third instinct was to call AAA and use our gold membership for a quick tire change (thankfully, I had a spare in the trunk). Which I did.
As the guy was leaving, I said to him, "Is the spare tire supposed to be so flat?" He said: "Yeah, it's a donut, lady!". Thankfully, my subsequent trip to Natick was without mishaps.
When I got into the car the next day, I yet again discovered that I had a flat tire, this time the spare itself was flat. Aha. Now AAA can't really help. First, I again wanted to cry. Thankfully for my self esteem, I did not. Then I decided to call my husband for help. Thankfully, I nixed that also. Then, I decided to call the only people who could help me - Sullivan Tire down the street from us. They helped! They added air to my spare AND told me 4 hours later that my holy tire was unrepairable.
Fast forward two months later, on a hot summer day, I am cruising to Natick (maybe I shouldn't go to Natick any more) on 4 new tires. I turn on the AC only to realize that there is no AC and the air that's projected at me is just as hot as the air outside (maybe a little hotter). So, I do the only reasonable thing and go to the Sullivan Tire guys again and get some freon. $200 dollars. One week later, I have no AC again! Do you see where this is going? Well, we donated my car with brand new tires to WGBH on June 2nd. It's blue book value was $500 in fair condition and $900 in excellent condition. Guess how much they sold it for? $1400. No joke.
So, why is this post titled, "To zip or not to zip?" As you can imagine, a modern woman in a city hardly needs a full time car. So, I've done the only reasonable thing and signed up for a part time car, a Zipcar to be exact. So, now, I am a Zipster, baby in tow and all. And every time I think that I may need to go somewhere, I say to myself, "To zip or not to zip?" And that is the question.
As the guy was leaving, I said to him, "Is the spare tire supposed to be so flat?" He said: "Yeah, it's a donut, lady!". Thankfully, my subsequent trip to Natick was without mishaps.
When I got into the car the next day, I yet again discovered that I had a flat tire, this time the spare itself was flat. Aha. Now AAA can't really help. First, I again wanted to cry. Thankfully for my self esteem, I did not. Then I decided to call my husband for help. Thankfully, I nixed that also. Then, I decided to call the only people who could help me - Sullivan Tire down the street from us. They helped! They added air to my spare AND told me 4 hours later that my holy tire was unrepairable.
Fast forward two months later, on a hot summer day, I am cruising to Natick (maybe I shouldn't go to Natick any more) on 4 new tires. I turn on the AC only to realize that there is no AC and the air that's projected at me is just as hot as the air outside (maybe a little hotter). So, I do the only reasonable thing and go to the Sullivan Tire guys again and get some freon. $200 dollars. One week later, I have no AC again! Do you see where this is going? Well, we donated my car with brand new tires to WGBH on June 2nd. It's blue book value was $500 in fair condition and $900 in excellent condition. Guess how much they sold it for? $1400. No joke.
So, why is this post titled, "To zip or not to zip?" As you can imagine, a modern woman in a city hardly needs a full time car. So, I've done the only reasonable thing and signed up for a part time car, a Zipcar to be exact. So, now, I am a Zipster, baby in tow and all. And every time I think that I may need to go somewhere, I say to myself, "To zip or not to zip?" And that is the question.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
At the MFA (Museum of Fine Arts), Boston
My husband and I decided to be brave and took our 4 month old daughter to the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston.
There are a lot of things you can learn form a place based on their ability to support a visit with a baby. First of all, I breastfeed my daughter, so I need a place to sit down and feed. As you can imagine, at the museum, the vast majority of benches are in the middle of the galleries, which make them hardly convenient for discreet breastfeeding, even with a wrap.
After about two hours of browsing the galleries and trying to note a discreet bench, we decided that we’d had enough dirty looks about our crying kid and that it was time to feed. I asked one of the very helpful MFA employees (no sarcasm here, they really are helpful) if there was a place I could feed my baby. What did I expect as an answer? I was guessing that she would make some suggestions about some discreet corners that afforded some amount of privacy and a plushy bench. I could not believe my astonishment when she said that there was a changing station and nursing room directly behind us, enclosed by, don’t laugh, glass doors. Upon further inspection we realized that the doors were not see-through.
Once inside this triangular room, we checked the walls several times to make sure that there wasn’t another door through which we were supposed to pass to get to the nursing/changing room. My husband even checked the map to see if this led somewhere else. It did not. I must mention here that although the rest of the museum was a comfortable cool temperature, this closet, I mean, nursing room, had no AC and was decidedly muggy and hot. I’ll leave it to you to imagine how much sweat poured off me while I was holding my very warm baby for 40 minutes.
Here is a list of items in the changing station/nursing room, from right to left as you enter: one(1) narrow wood bench, one (1) piano with its own small bench, two (2) poles with extendable ropes (used for orchestrating masses into lines or blocking off areas), four or five (4 or 5) bookcases stacked into the corner, one (1) bronze replica of the Lincoln memorial, four (4) boards the size of a door stacked in the other corner, and one (1) set of lockers, presumably used for employee belongings since some of them were locked. Notice that nowhere in this list is a comfortable chair or couch for nursing, a sink for rinsing bottles, a bottle warmer or a changing table. I’m not sure where we would have changed our baby if we didn’t have a stroller with us, but probably the banged up, slightly dirty marble floor would be the only option.
While trying to pass the time, my husband and I tried to think of good uses for the various objects in the room. For starters, the piano is obvious. While you feed your child, your husband can play some Mozart to stimulate their brain development. The replica of the Lincoln memorial must be there so that you can rub his right knee and get some luck, ‘cause you’ll need all the luck you can get. The bookshelves are part of an obstacle course along with the ropes for your other children. The boards are probably meant to divide the room should another mother come in to feed her baby, which she would have to do on the floor because I was occupying the only bench suitable for this process.
I understand the issue at hand here. The MFA is going through a series of major renovations and everyone’s time and energy is consumed with making this happen. And as a parent who wants her child to grow up with culture and to have a good museum nearby that she can visit on class trips or weekend jaunts with her parents I am going to cut the museum a little slack here. But I can’t imagine that there isn’t a small chair that can be spared and a table that can be added to this room. It doesn’t take much to make a big difference. I would be happy to lend my consulting services to help the museum plan their parents-with-baby experience.
On our way out, we did locate a changing table… It was mounted to the wall in one of the stairways. Not quite the ideal place.
So, what have we learned about the MFA in this trip? They’ve definitely thought about the patron experience, even about their smallest visitors, which is great! A few more finishing touches and the visit will be much better.
There are a lot of things you can learn form a place based on their ability to support a visit with a baby. First of all, I breastfeed my daughter, so I need a place to sit down and feed. As you can imagine, at the museum, the vast majority of benches are in the middle of the galleries, which make them hardly convenient for discreet breastfeeding, even with a wrap.
After about two hours of browsing the galleries and trying to note a discreet bench, we decided that we’d had enough dirty looks about our crying kid and that it was time to feed. I asked one of the very helpful MFA employees (no sarcasm here, they really are helpful) if there was a place I could feed my baby. What did I expect as an answer? I was guessing that she would make some suggestions about some discreet corners that afforded some amount of privacy and a plushy bench. I could not believe my astonishment when she said that there was a changing station and nursing room directly behind us, enclosed by, don’t laugh, glass doors. Upon further inspection we realized that the doors were not see-through.
Once inside this triangular room, we checked the walls several times to make sure that there wasn’t another door through which we were supposed to pass to get to the nursing/changing room. My husband even checked the map to see if this led somewhere else. It did not. I must mention here that although the rest of the museum was a comfortable cool temperature, this closet, I mean, nursing room, had no AC and was decidedly muggy and hot. I’ll leave it to you to imagine how much sweat poured off me while I was holding my very warm baby for 40 minutes.
Here is a list of items in the changing station/nursing room, from right to left as you enter: one(1) narrow wood bench, one (1) piano with its own small bench, two (2) poles with extendable ropes (used for orchestrating masses into lines or blocking off areas), four or five (4 or 5) bookcases stacked into the corner, one (1) bronze replica of the Lincoln memorial, four (4) boards the size of a door stacked in the other corner, and one (1) set of lockers, presumably used for employee belongings since some of them were locked. Notice that nowhere in this list is a comfortable chair or couch for nursing, a sink for rinsing bottles, a bottle warmer or a changing table. I’m not sure where we would have changed our baby if we didn’t have a stroller with us, but probably the banged up, slightly dirty marble floor would be the only option.
While trying to pass the time, my husband and I tried to think of good uses for the various objects in the room. For starters, the piano is obvious. While you feed your child, your husband can play some Mozart to stimulate their brain development. The replica of the Lincoln memorial must be there so that you can rub his right knee and get some luck, ‘cause you’ll need all the luck you can get. The bookshelves are part of an obstacle course along with the ropes for your other children. The boards are probably meant to divide the room should another mother come in to feed her baby, which she would have to do on the floor because I was occupying the only bench suitable for this process.
I understand the issue at hand here. The MFA is going through a series of major renovations and everyone’s time and energy is consumed with making this happen. And as a parent who wants her child to grow up with culture and to have a good museum nearby that she can visit on class trips or weekend jaunts with her parents I am going to cut the museum a little slack here. But I can’t imagine that there isn’t a small chair that can be spared and a table that can be added to this room. It doesn’t take much to make a big difference. I would be happy to lend my consulting services to help the museum plan their parents-with-baby experience.
On our way out, we did locate a changing table… It was mounted to the wall in one of the stairways. Not quite the ideal place.
So, what have we learned about the MFA in this trip? They’ve definitely thought about the patron experience, even about their smallest visitors, which is great! A few more finishing touches and the visit will be much better.
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