I took Emerson and Ethan to San Francisco by myself last week to visit friends. By the looks I got walking through the airport you would think I was some sort of circus sideshow - hideous, fascinating and impossible not to comment on.
Every single person I interacted with started the conversation saying "You've got your hands full!" or some variation, usually in a half-cheery half-horrified voice. I would smile and agree. I relied on the kindness of strangers and was happy to find many kind strangers on my journey, along with plenty of spectators, too.
I had Ethan in the Ergo the whole time and Emerson rode in his car seat strapped to a rolling carry-on suitcase. It was actually quite manageable except for the part from the airline door to our seats. Thank goodness for Economy Plus.
Several women, upon seeing us, ordered their husbands to help me immediately.
I got lots of comments on how well-behaved they both were, and it was true. Ethan slept 90% of the time, like he always does. Emerson was a great sport about traveling and the worst he did was a wee bit of kicking the seat in front of him.
Emerson's last flight was the move to Florida at the end of July and he didn't seem to remember it, which meant he experienced this as his first airplane flight. Our first take-off he held my arm and seemed a bit nervous but after than he was unphased by the ups and downs of airplane travel.
I am glad that we did it and proud that I made it work. I am not sure I am quite ready to do it again, but I will have to get ready in time for our trip to Chicago in a few weeks.
Monday, March 5, 2012
Monday, February 13, 2012
Actual wild turkeys
Eric pointed out that my previous wild turkeys were actually Muscovy ducks. Oops.
Then as I was driving last Thursday I came across a grazing flock of actual wild turkeys and they do look a lot more like turkeys than those ducks did.
Then as I was driving last Thursday I came across a grazing flock of actual wild turkeys and they do look a lot more like turkeys than those ducks did.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Picking strawberries
On Saturday we went to a small farm about an hour south to pick strawberries. It was such a small operation that it sort of felt like going over to someone's house to pick berries. And pet their pig Copper and their chickens, which we did too.
The farmer was very welcoming and happy to talk about how everything works. These strawberries are grown in pots stacked vertically about 5 high, which was a welcome improvement from my image of us spending our morning hunched over row after row of earthbound strawberry plants. The strawberries are actually grown hydroponically though I didn't know that until well after we had left because it looks like they are growing in soil. The farmer asked us to use scissors to harvest only the reddest ripest berries. Emerson loved finding berries in the low pots and snipping them off with the scissors and a little help. Only once did he take off running while holding the scissors prompting the parental observation from Eric: "He's running with scissors."
The strawberries above, minus a few that got eaten along the way, turned into this much jam (plus another jar we gave away before I took this picture):
The farmer was very welcoming and happy to talk about how everything works. These strawberries are grown in pots stacked vertically about 5 high, which was a welcome improvement from my image of us spending our morning hunched over row after row of earthbound strawberry plants. The strawberries are actually grown hydroponically though I didn't know that until well after we had left because it looks like they are growing in soil. The farmer asked us to use scissors to harvest only the reddest ripest berries. Emerson loved finding berries in the low pots and snipping them off with the scissors and a little help. Only once did he take off running while holding the scissors prompting the parental observation from Eric: "He's running with scissors."
The strawberries above, minus a few that got eaten along the way, turned into this much jam (plus another jar we gave away before I took this picture):
Friday, February 3, 2012
Won't you be my neighbor
Our neighborhood, The Shires, is currently embroiled in a heated referendum about whether or not to update the white, wooden mailboxes, many of which are actually green and rotted, with black metal mailboxes, which look like they were designed for mid-century central London as opposed to a Florida subdivision.
There was a neighborhood meeting about this hot topic, and some other neighborhood issues, this past week. Ethan and I went to check it out and see who our neighbors are in this funny little community.
There were about 25 people there, out of something like 235 houses in the neighborhood (which is one of 28 or so neighborhoods that make up the "master planned community" that is Westchase). The crowd was mostly older folks and I was the only "young parent" there. I was really pleased to learn about what kinds of things are happening and was particularly happy to hear some of the ideas coming up like a playground area that would be a 5 min walk instead of a 45 min walk away.
I did have to nurse Ethan part-way through the meeting, which I was able to do very discreetly. After he was done, I was getting him re-situated in my lap when he let out a resounding three-part burp any frat boy would have been proud of. I cautiously raised my eyes to find every eyeball looking my direction. Before I could say a word the guy next to me, who I had never met before, spoke up.
"That was me."
There was a neighborhood meeting about this hot topic, and some other neighborhood issues, this past week. Ethan and I went to check it out and see who our neighbors are in this funny little community.
There were about 25 people there, out of something like 235 houses in the neighborhood (which is one of 28 or so neighborhoods that make up the "master planned community" that is Westchase). The crowd was mostly older folks and I was the only "young parent" there. I was really pleased to learn about what kinds of things are happening and was particularly happy to hear some of the ideas coming up like a playground area that would be a 5 min walk instead of a 45 min walk away.
I did have to nurse Ethan part-way through the meeting, which I was able to do very discreetly. After he was done, I was getting him re-situated in my lap when he let out a resounding three-part burp any frat boy would have been proud of. I cautiously raised my eyes to find every eyeball looking my direction. Before I could say a word the guy next to me, who I had never met before, spoke up.
"That was me."
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Hammock Park
We have been trying to explore the parks nearby on nice days and one outing on a recent weekend took us to Hammock Park which is about 25 min away in Dunedin.
Hammock Park is of the "intact ecosystem" variety of park as opposed to the "large lawn" type and they have trails cut through it to aid exploration. As we were walking along down the trail we noticed orange peel strewn around. "Litterbugs," I sneered. "People should know better than to leave their picnic waste lying around."
As we kept walking, we kept seeing orange peels. And whole oranges laying by the side of the trail. It quickly became clear that something else was going on.
It was Eric who first noticed it*: there were wild orange trees and wild clementine trees (or whatever the real name is for those cute teeny oranges) all along the path.
Eric picked one and we all sampled its incredibly sour taste. I guess the squirrels and the other hikers already got all the sweet ones.
*I claim "still dumb from pregnant brain" on this as well as on a lot of other stuff like not being able to remember that thing I was going to do when I came into this room.
Hammock Park is of the "intact ecosystem" variety of park as opposed to the "large lawn" type and they have trails cut through it to aid exploration. As we were walking along down the trail we noticed orange peel strewn around. "Litterbugs," I sneered. "People should know better than to leave their picnic waste lying around."
As we kept walking, we kept seeing orange peels. And whole oranges laying by the side of the trail. It quickly became clear that something else was going on.
It was Eric who first noticed it*: there were wild orange trees and wild clementine trees (or whatever the real name is for those cute teeny oranges) all along the path.
Eric picked one and we all sampled its incredibly sour taste. I guess the squirrels and the other hikers already got all the sweet ones.
*I claim "still dumb from pregnant brain" on this as well as on a lot of other stuff like not being able to remember that thing I was going to do when I came into this room.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Lies I need to hear
I was pushing Emerson on the swings at the park today while juggling Ethan and generally looking exhausted and disheveled. A mom swinging with her daughter started chatting with me and asked how old Ethan was and then how far apart the two kids are. Her kids are the same age apart but are older now - her younger one looked about four.
"People tell you it gets easier but they're lying," she informed me.
"But they are such kind lies," I said, deciding to continue believing them anyway.
"People tell you it gets easier but they're lying," she informed me.
"But they are such kind lies," I said, deciding to continue believing them anyway.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Florida's Oldest
There's more to Florida than old people. There's old places as well. We checked out two of Florida's oldest establishments this past week.
Columbia Restaurant is Florida's Oldest Restaurant (1905). We went to the Ybor City location to have dinner with a friend of Eric's who was in town for a meeting, and several of her colleagues joined as well. It is a monstrously large place - I believe the restaurant is a full city block - and Eric said that it seats 1,500 people for dinner. It is Spanish food, which makes sense, since they were some of the first non-native people in Florida. It could be considered a tourist trap but the food was actually quite good and those who had the made-at-the-table sangria (extra $2 for the Sangre de Toro wine) reported it was worthy as well. They have two nightly flamenco shows and we dined in between, catching the just beginning of the late show on our way out. At the risk of sounding a bit geezer-y myself, I was kind of glad we weren't seeing the whole show because it was very loud, what with all the stomping.
After a beautiful afternoon at Philippe Park on Saturday, the four of us went home the long way with a stop at Dunedin Brewery, Florida's Oldest Craft Brewery (no year given). The brewpub-chic main restaurant area was full so we found seats in "the nook" (official name, with a sign on the wall), a shabby-not-chic secondary bar area. We ordered the sampler so we could taste six of the beers on tap that day and had to explain to Emerson several times that the small glasses did not mean it was all for him. My favorites were the Apricot (I'm a sucker for apricot-flavored beers) and the Pale Ale. They also had a Nitro Stout and a Nitro Pale, which are carbonated with nitrogen like Guinness to give a creamy head. The Red and Brown ales were fine but not remarkable. Again here we left just as the live music was getting started and while I don't know for sure, I expect it would have been louder than my current grandmotherly taste in live entertainment.
Other old things I am interested to check out: oldest Starbucks and oldest old person's home.
Columbia Restaurant is Florida's Oldest Restaurant (1905). We went to the Ybor City location to have dinner with a friend of Eric's who was in town for a meeting, and several of her colleagues joined as well. It is a monstrously large place - I believe the restaurant is a full city block - and Eric said that it seats 1,500 people for dinner. It is Spanish food, which makes sense, since they were some of the first non-native people in Florida. It could be considered a tourist trap but the food was actually quite good and those who had the made-at-the-table sangria (extra $2 for the Sangre de Toro wine) reported it was worthy as well. They have two nightly flamenco shows and we dined in between, catching the just beginning of the late show on our way out. At the risk of sounding a bit geezer-y myself, I was kind of glad we weren't seeing the whole show because it was very loud, what with all the stomping.
After a beautiful afternoon at Philippe Park on Saturday, the four of us went home the long way with a stop at Dunedin Brewery, Florida's Oldest Craft Brewery (no year given). The brewpub-chic main restaurant area was full so we found seats in "the nook" (official name, with a sign on the wall), a shabby-not-chic secondary bar area. We ordered the sampler so we could taste six of the beers on tap that day and had to explain to Emerson several times that the small glasses did not mean it was all for him. My favorites were the Apricot (I'm a sucker for apricot-flavored beers) and the Pale Ale. They also had a Nitro Stout and a Nitro Pale, which are carbonated with nitrogen like Guinness to give a creamy head. The Red and Brown ales were fine but not remarkable. Again here we left just as the live music was getting started and while I don't know for sure, I expect it would have been louder than my current grandmotherly taste in live entertainment.
Other old things I am interested to check out: oldest Starbucks and oldest old person's home.
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