Walking the walk

The calendar said October but it felt like December outside. The wind whipped through our thin jackets as the sporadic raindrops felt like spit from heaven. Sunday was not exactly the best day to be going out, but Jennifer and I had already made plans with our friends in the Bronx, Mickey and Bonni, and we were not ready to abandon them. Originally we were going to check out an outdoor harvest festival in their neighborhood, but those plans fell through as we realized that hypothermia would ruin the fun of pumpkin viewing. Our backup plan was to spend the afternoon inside our friends' apartment. We figured we would have fun, but we were not too sure about Kyle. One day earlier, as Jennifer and I had to take care of some life insurance business (welcome to parenthood), Kyle expressed his frustration with being kept inside by crying until his face turned purple. He still had all his toys around him at that point. We were dreading what he would do without his stuff.

Turns out that wouldn't be a problem. Our son loves to entertain, and with five adults inside this apartment (including our friend Maya) and one Jack Russell Terrier, he certainly had an audience. Yet he had to come up with something exciting, since the dog was also fighting for attention, doing cute things like waving her paws in the air and peeing on the floor. So, Kyle decided that Sunday would be a good day to start walking on his own.

Kyle probably would have announced his intention to walk had he been able to string together a complete sentence, but these days most of the sounds he makes are those of barnyard animals. Instead, the walk happened without warning: at one moment, he was at the coffee table, and at the next, he was next to me, several feet away. I was looking in the opposite direction, so I did not notice that he was not walking on his knees or with the help of his mother. Jennifer, who was sitting on the couch, had seen the whole thing take place and was stunned. Kyle had taken his first steps weeks ago, and was getting used to walking with us holding his hand, but he had never traveled any great distance on his feet without our help. Suddenly he was able to prepare for a marathon, and that's just about what he did.

Within minutes of those first steps, Kyle was moving fast, as if he had been walking for years. He kept going around in circles, through the living room, through the kitchen, through the dining room, and back to the living room. He would then zig-zag through the living room like a pinball, going after each of us and the dog, and then back through the kitchen again. He probably covered a few miles with all the laps he did, and he rarely tripped. All the adults around him were going crazy. It's as if we had never seen anyone walk before. Kyle kept smiling, relishing all the attention and signing autographs.

Of course, we now realize that, for Kyle to ever achieve any major development, he needs somebody there other than his dear ol' Mom and Dad. My mother was in the room when he took his first steps. He was at my parents' place when he started walking with the help of somebody else. And his first stroll happened at our friends' place. He never does any of these things whenever it's just the two of us. Maybe we need to recruit people to help Kyle try new foods, learn to read, or reach other milestones... including the potty training. Do I have any volunteers?

The shoe that dropped

Ever since Kyle ended his morning naps in favor of screaming and crying every time I put him in the crib, we've been going on neighborhood walks to pass some of the time away. Kyle, of course, does little of the walking, as he prefers to observe the city from his chariot, better known as a lightweight stroller. I do the legwork, pushing him up and down the streets, usually for more than an hour.

Since Kyle does not do any walking while he's in the stroller, he really has no need for shoes. He himself must have come to that conclusion during one of our walks several days ago. That would explain why one of his shoes was suddenly gone halfway through our stroll. The rest of our walk turned into a futile scavenger hunt, with me scanning every inch of the sidewalk and edge of the road, and Kyle fighting off boredom as he sees the same streets he traveled down just moments before.

Kyle did not seem to miss his shoe much. There was no crying or whining about it, and he did not help at all with my search, as much as I begged him to. He probably figured there would be another pair waiting for him at home. Kyle was wrong to make such assumptions. He should realize by now that he is his parents' first child, and there are a lot of things they don't yet take into consideration, like how it would make a lot of sense to buy your child more than one pair of shoes, especially now that he is learning how to walk. The following morning, these parents made an emergency stop at the local Payless.

Of course, we should have realized that this kind of thing would happen with shoes. Shoes like to run and hide, even when you're not in them. At least, that's what my shoes like to do. How many times have I lost my slippers? A gazillion. How many times have hunted everywhere for a missing sneaker? More times than I could count. How many times did I accidentally pack only one dress shoe for a trip to Montreal? Okay, that last thing happened only once, but it is a memorable shoe experience, since I didn't realize my mistake, thought I had dropped it in transit, and went ahead and asked the concierge, in broken French, if she happened to see a size 14 shoe lying around somewhere. She seemed awfully confused and had me repeat my question several times before she laughed, said "no" and then insulted me in French.

Shoes often turn up in bizarre places, too. I remember driving around Atlanta years ago (back when Jennifer and I lived there and were child-free), and I would often see an adult-sized shoe lying along the side of the road. I used to think that was odd, since there would be just one shoe, never two. Back then I logically concluded that Atlanta had a lot of one-legged people who simply threw their extra shoes out their car windows. Now I wonder if Atlanta just had a lot of babies with really big feet.

Our child's shoe did turn up, by the way. We found it the next day, on a cement post along the edge of the sidewalk. Somebody must have put it there shortly after Kyle dropped it, and I missed seeing it on the way back because I didn't bother to look up. We were lucky this time. I know the next time Kyle loses something, it will likely be lost and gone forever. I hope by then we'll have a good backup... but, as it is with new parents, I doubt we will.

The rain in Maine & the criminally insane

It was very dark, and very quiet. The road to our motel twisted ahead of us, past the thick trees and small houses, leading farther away from any semblance of city life. The sun had set just a short time earlier, as we crossed the border from New Hampshire into Maine, but with the lack of fellow travelers, it felt like we were deep into the night. Kyle was not with us that Friday evening. We had left him at my parents’ place on our way to Springvale, where one of my friends was about to get married.

The motel's sign glowed ominously from the side of the road. As we pulled into the lot, we noticed that very few people had done the same, as most of the parking spaces in front of each building’s strip of rooms were empty. The place was eerily quiet. A lone man sat in the motel’s dimly-lit office, next to a monitor that glowed with the images captured by several outside security cameras. The Holiday Inn this was not.

"You will be staying in room 138," the man said as he gave us a key with a black plastic tag. "It’s in the building farthest to the back, by all the trees and cut telephone lines. Our free continental breakfast starts at 7 a.m."

We chose this motel because a group of my friends were staying there. We met up with them after dropping off our things, and they, too, said they felt our motel resembled one of those places where serial killers hide out. Little did I know that our remarks would foreshadow the events that would happen to us later that evening.

A noise from the bathroom startled me awake shortly after four in the morning. I wasn't entirely sure what I heard, since my mind was still in that fog between dreamworld and reality. I listened more closely to make sure I was not hearing just the rain outside. A shuffling sound confirmed my fears: somebody... or something... was in the bathroom, and must have entered through the window in there.

I slowly rose from my bed and crept towards the bathroom, trying hard to not attract the attention of our intruder. I also did not want to wake up Jennifer until I knew for certain we were in trouble.

Once I turned the corner, I had a clear shot. The bathroom door was closed, and the light was on. I froze.

Then I heard the flush. Whoever it was in that bathroom had the nerve to break in and then use our toilet. I didn't know what to think. Maybe it was someone who had been living out in the woods for a while and wanted to freshen up before beginning the slaughter.

Suddenly the door started to open...

WHOOMP! I jumped on the door and slammed it shut, trapping the intruder inside. I didn't know where to go from there. Perhaps I could have used the ironing board or a chair to jam the door shut, leaving the killer with nowhere to go as Jennifer and I made a run for...

... then it dawned on me: I hadn't checked to see if Jennifer was still in bed.

"Honey?" I asked, "Are you okay?"

Jennifer opened the bathroom door. Fortunately she did not have a broken nose. She also wasn't upset with my overreaction, though I'm sure she wouldn't have been to happy if I did more than just slam the door in her face. Needless to say, we didn't have any intruders that evening.

The rain continued throughout the next day, but nobody cared since the wedding was inside. We had a blast, and, that evening, with all the wedding guests filling up the parking lot, the motel lost its horror house charm.

The next morning we came across a crazy, disheveled old man who puffed cigarettes and then sprinted across the parking lot (this is true). When he approached our group of friends and said that he had spent the last four months in the woods (also true), we figured it was probably a good time to leave Maine. Who knows what I would have ended up doing if we stayed another night after that. You can be sure Jennifer's glad to be home.

Mountain dew

This past Sunday, Jennifer and I celebrated our anniversary, marking six years to the day since our little fling became permanent. Each year we have celebrated the occasion at the same cottages in New York's Catskill Mountains. Last year, because Jennifer and I both had lots of time off and were becoming bored with merely feeding Kyle and watching "Family Feud" everyday, we spent five beautiful days up there. This year we did not have as much time. Due to time and work restraints, we arrived in the mountains late Saturday night and left early Monday morning. Basically, that left us with Sunday, the actual day of our anniversary. It was also the only rainy day of the week.

The lack of sunshine did not mean a lack of fun. In fact, there are plenty of things you can do whenever you're trapped inside a small cottage with a 15-month-old child. For example, you could wrestle...



You could throw socks at your child's head...



Or you could glue his pants to the floor and see if he is able to escape...



At this point we were running out of ideas, and fast. Years ago, rainy days did not bother us much. We would spend the afternoon inside playing cards or a board game, or we would go outside and soak ourselves while imaging the foliage on the mountains hidden behind a wall of clouds. Now that we have Kyle, we don't want to risk getting him sick by standing outside in the rain, and he's not exactly the best card player at the moment. We have yet to teach him Go Fish or Hearts, and he cheats at poker. Our only option was to play silly games with our son, trying to keep him happy until nap time.

For much of the weekend, Kyle was happy. He would move through the cottage carrying his cup of Cheerios like a vacationing adult would carry a bag of chips, snacking on them whenever he felt like it. He loved his temporary little home, and he would crack up at the things inside, like the twin beds in his room or the couch in the living room. With his toys strewn around everywhere, the cottage became Kyle's fun house... and he had so much fun, he refused to nap. Suddenly we had a few more hours we needed to fill, a kid who was going crazy, and a cup of Cheerios that had become dangerously low.

We desperately needed coffee. While we had a pot in the kitchen, we realized it made more sense to go out and get a cup and eat up time. Also, there was a chance Kyle would sleep on the way, since any form of civilization (coffee shop) was at least 500 miles from our cottage, or so it seemed. Having been in the car a great deal on Saturday, and knowing we were going to be doing a lot of driving on Monday, we were not excited about the prospect of being trapped in the vehicle again. Yet, as we watched Kyle try to gnaw through the living room table, we realized that was our only choice if we wanted to keep our sanity. So we buckled him up and drove out in the rain, searching for a coffee shop.

Turns out the car ride was the best idea we had all day (besides rolling up the car windows). Even with all the rain and clouds, we were still able to enjoy the foliage. Since Kyle was new to facing forward in the car, he was hypnotized by the windshield wipers, and quickly fell asleep. The only downside was our inability to find a coffee shop (somehow, someway, the people in the Catskills learn to live without Java Chip Frappachinos). We spotted a Dunkin' Donuts self-serve coffee stand at a gas station, and, considering all we had gone through by that point, it was perfectly fine with us. With our caffeine fix, we had enough energy to make it through the rest of the day. As darkness fell and the thunder boomed outside, we put Kyle to bed, drank champagne to toast our anniversary, and watched an excellent award-winning movie titled "Hot Fuzz."

The next morning Kyle slept in, but our alarm woke us at six. We needed to get up early so that Jennifer could be back in the city to put in a full day of work. It was a mad rush, but we managed to get packed up and on the road by 8:30 a.m. As we weaved past the colorful trees, we said good-bye to the Catskills, with the hope that we would return next year. In less than three hours we were back in New York City... and the weather was gorgeous.

Moving forward

Kyle's world completely changed on Saturday. Up until this point, whenever the little guy needed to get somewhere fast, he had to go backwards. Because his car seat faced the rear, Kyle was the last person to know when we reached our destination or had gone airborne Dukes of Hazzard-style. He'd always be wide-eyed whenever we'd go through a tunnel, since the darkness would catch him completely by surprise. On the other hand, Kyle was the first to know when the rear window was finally defrosted or if the cops were following us. That all ended on Saturday, when I finally turned his car seat around.

We may be a little behind in moving Kyle's car seat; most people typically turn it around at the first birthday. However, we had learned that a child's weight, rather than his age, should be the main factor in making this decision, so that's why we waited. That, and I just didn't feel like doing it until last weekend. Installing this particular car seat was painful on the hands and confusing on the brain (see here), and I had more enjoyable things to do, like seeing the dentist. Yet, the truth was that Kyle eventually was going to be too big to face the rear, and we wanted to move the seat before he started leaving footprints on the rear window. So, this weekend we figured he was ready.

Kyle rode in silent fascination, looking around wide-eyed at everything passing us by. His first trip facing forward was on Sunday morning, as we drove to church. For most people, this would seem to be a rather unremarkable ride. However, since we live in south Brooklyn and our church is in north Brooklyn, we use the highway running along the edge of the borough, which takes us past the Statue of Liberty, goes under the Brooklyn Bridge, and gives us a spectacular view of Manhattan and the Empire State Building. Yet, since Kyle was born in Manhattan and has yet to understand the significance of any of these landmarks, he was more impressed with actually seeing brake lights and the front sides of the street signs. He also seemed intrigued to find out that I have a role in moving the car, and that the radio doesn't magically switch stations.

The seat flip is also a big change for Jennifer, and a welcoming one at that. For more than a year, she has sat in the back seat during most trips, keeping Kyle company as I drove the car. It hasn't been the most comfortable experience in that cramped space, and she would occasionally suffer from car sickness. Plus, if the little guy pulled a seven-alarm tantrum, she would either have to sit through it, or open the door and roll out of the car. Considering that most of our drives are on highways, Jennifer often chose to stick through it. Now that Kyle's old enough to be alone, Jennifer will be sitting in the more comfortable front seat, and she'll be able to turn up the volume of the radio whenever our son starts going nuts... well, okay, she won't do that, but she'll be able to turn around and comfort him without feeling like he's screaming in her face. It's a much better situation. As for me, I'm just glad I no longer have to feel like their chauffeur. It was always strange when they tipped me at the end of a ride.

These are extremely exciting times for our little family, and I'm really looking forward to our next trip away. Who knew that moving around a car seat could fill us with such euphoria? When I look at all the types of things that bring joy to my life these days, I realize that, yes, indeed, parenthood is a very bizarre experience.