Regressing For A Day

Happy Birthday to me ..... Everybody Out! That was about the extent of the first half of the day. The plan was rest and no responsibility for 8 whole hours. Unfortunately I had an appointment in the mid-afternoon so it wasn't a complete success. But, I found myself in the West Village, which is a nice area to walk around during the week when there aren't many people. Ah, a Gray's Papaya hot dog on a cold day with a papaya "drink" - legally I don't think they can call it juice.

Later that night, Alina brought me a slice of cake with a candle in it. She has gotten very good at that song. Well, it is only four words. Katrina smartly bought just a slice and not a whole cake, but we all shared in its strawberryness. It was interesting to note how messy our apartment gets after one day of not cleaning it, since I took the day off both professionally and personally. It was like we had a poltergeist.

Alina is turning two in a couple of weeks. I have very little to do with the festivities, but noticed that a lot of stamps were gone so apparently people are coming. Remember party bags? I sure didn't. And I even feel downright annoyed that I have to provide sweets and gifts for cretanous mini creatures that I've never met. Both at daycare and at her actual party. I guess it could be worse - like renting a petting zoo and cleaning up goat shit or something. Winter birthdays rule.

Ad Nauseam. In 4-D!

Two dimensions wasn't enough. Three dimensions? Surely you jest. America wants FOUR dimensions! We went to an aquarium in Norwalk, CT over the weekend and they had this 5-minute ride/movie featuring Spongebob. You know, because it's an aquarium and Spongebob .... lives in the ocean. It's about as appropriate as having a My Little Pony ride at a Rodeo. Anyway, the ride consists of you sitting in this box with about 20 other people and watch a 3-D movie while your chairs throw you about to simulate the corresponding screen action. The goal is to give you the feel of being there. I guess the thwacking about is the 4th dimension. While I love roller coasters and any carnival-variety spin n' barf ride, I typically don't do well on these things. I guess it has something to do with the randomness of it and not seeing the path of movement ahead of time.

While I was parking the car, Katrina bought tickets to this ride. She's pregnant, Alina's is one, and I traditionally hate these things so I couldn't figure out why we were fated to do this. I was later informed that the warnings about the ride aren't posted where you buy the ticket, just at the ride itself. It's more of a legal disclaimer than a warning. Everyone is trying to cover their ass from getting sued. Please do not ride if you're pregnant, experience motion sickness, have heart conditions, back/neck problems, vertigo, ingrown toenails, hemmoroids, ocular bleeding, fisticuffs, nipple splinters, and the list goes on...

Then, we heard that you can choose to have your seat turned off, so you wouldn't have to experience what yet another sign called "Violent, Aggressive Movements". My fears were suddenly replaced with the eagerness to see Alina watch a 3-D movie for the first time. We were able to have both our chairs silenced, as they could only do it in pairs.

Surprisingly, Alina kept the glasses on despite them being too big for her head. I didn't really watch the movie - something about a pickle falling out of a Crabby Patty and getting away. When the first 3-D reach-out-and-touch-it moment happened, Alina put one hand on the side of her head and the other over her nose and said "Oh No!" Like, she wanted to cover her eyes but also couldn't look away. All around us, people in their chairs were being gimbaled and thrown about in a way that made me very happy that we weren't one of them. That action, combined with the 3-D, overtly loud speakers, and real bubbles being released completely turned reality on its head (in the eyes of a nearly two-year old). What world must this have been? Unfortunately, Spongebob and his pals had to be attacked by a robot with a circular saw for one arm. "We've clearly descended into hell," I thought. It was over fast enough. She didn't seem to hate it as much as I thought. The lights came up and she yelled "Bubbles!" as they were still floating around. Then, had a bunch of incoherent stories to tell Mommy who was waiting outside for us. So, I guess now we have to wait for the 5th dimension, where they skip the lines and the tactile, blunt-force experience and just download the ride directly into your brain.

She threw up about two hours after, but that later proved to be unrelated to the ride. But it did shed some light on how little she actually chews her food. Whole Penne pasta and clementine slices? Reminds me of a dog I once had.

3-D hangover baby below:

Sanjay Claus

Mom and Babe were at our local pizza place tonight, when an Indian Sikh with a full beard and purple turban walks in. Alina, perks up, runs over to him and yells:

"SANTA! Hi Santa! Look, Mommy! Santa! How are you, Santa?!"

The man just smiles. Katrina, trying to prevent tomato sauce from shooting out of her nose, decides to put another foot in our family's mouth by pointing at his turban and saying, "She likes your hat."

Here is an artist's rendering:

I'm No Gandalf

Once in a while, we begrudgingly make the trek up the Van Wyck Expressway to Babies r Us. It's a place I don't really like going, especially on a weekend, being nestled with a BJ's, Target, etc, making the approach and parking situation quite heinous. Sometimes we have no other choice when we need something very specific. This past Sunday was one of those times. We needed to buy nipples for Medela bottles and have yet to see them sold anywhere else. Luckily, we're seasoned veterans and don't need to speak to any of the clueless staff. Really, you'd think they'd hire someone who had a basic knowledge of anything they were selling. An abundance of choice tends to paralyze the average consumer, paired with the fact that new parents and parents-to-be are typically brain dead. When faced with 27 brands of car seats, sometimes you want to speak to a sales person.

Like the new Trader Joe's that opened around the corner from us (YES!), it's virtually impossible to leave Babies r Us once you find what you went there for. After all, you wrestled your way into the place. It'd be a shame to wait on line just for nipples. So while Mama was looking at hats on sale, the wee and I abused the furniture. Alina wanted to get into every crib and play with the mobiles, jump around. I was hoping someone would yell at us, as I was in the mood to win an argument. Alas, no one challenged. Ho hum. I've never been a particularly rowdy or disrespectful person, but I'm finding that being parent has made less inclined to placate the general public.

I felt like an elder statesman seeing all the pale-faced, shell shocked, bewildered people roaming the canyon-like aisles. I was them once. Some were pregnant, some had infants, all looked mildly terrified. Did I impart my Wisdom onto these draftees? Nope, that's their journey. And besides, a parent's unsolicited opinion is a big pet peeve of mine. Alas, there is no Oracle when it comes to baby consumer products (especially not in Babies r Us), so one's source of knowledge is usually other parents. So, I just sit back and watch the mayhem. I watch the woman who can't choose between angled bottles and Dr. Brown's ones that allegedly prevent spitting up. I see the couple argue about a swing that doesn't allow side-to-side motion and back-and-forth. I examine the Auntie that flips through every book on the shelf to find the one that will make her niece a genius. Then there's the Dad who is testing the infant mattresses to see which one is more comfortable. Okay, Ready?

- Dr. Browns doesn't do shit and they're really hard to clean
- Your kid may not even like swings in the first place
- It's not the book, it's how often you read to them
- Your kid weighs less than you, Mr. Mattress tester

Of course, my self aggrandizing attitude towards new parents is limited to just new parents. Someone with a couple of 10-year olds probably looks at me the same way, thinking, "Dude, you have no idea."