I park. I get out of the car. I get my kids out. And along with me comes a HUGE bag full of everything that I could possibly need during an outing. Sometimes its even two bags organized by type of item. Snacks galore, diapers, wipes, extra clothes for both kids and sometimes and extra outfit for me. Phone, camera, wallet, keys, suncreen, jackets, picnic blanket. You get the idea. As I am wrangling all this together, I see a new mom exit her vehicle with baby in tow. No stroller, no bag. Just the baby and herself. How in the world is this possible? I look like a circus with my bulging bag and whining kids trying to escape me in the parking lot (I really should buy that leash thing). Is that wrong... to put a leash-type apparatus on your kid? Anyway, I told myself when my second was born that I would NOT carry around a huge diaper bag again. And I got away with it for a while. Lately though, it seems like I have to pack for a 2 week trip just to go to the park for a few hours. I’ve tried to “forget” the snacks at home a few times to lighten my load. Do not try this method. It fails miserably. I’ve forgotten extra clothes on accident only to have my son’s diaper leak like the Hoover Dam floodgates have opened. Again, do not attempt this. Forgetting the clothes, I mean. Not opening the Hoover Dam floodgates. I wouldn’t try that either though. I would love to be the mom with no bag and just baby in tow. The mom with the perfectly coiffed hair, designer clothes and fresh make-up. But I am not. I’m lucky if I get a shower in the morning. My clothes have seen way better days and my make-up bag is in desperate need of a total revamp. But if my kids get hungry or wet or there is too much sun or not enough sun, I am prepared. And the mom with no bag… well, you may be prepared but you will have to run back to the car with a screaming child in tow. Hopefully your bag is in the car. But I am envious of you anyway.
March 20, 2011
March 17, 2011
I may live in the South, but don’t you go calling me a Southerner. Southerners eat things like collard greens and hush puppies and pork rinds and chitlins. I don’t even know what a chitlin is but it can’t be good. Southerners only cook things one way….deep-fried. Ok, I may be a little hard on these people but you get the point. I’ve been plucked from my home in “The North” (Baltimore) of the last 9.5 years and transplanted down to North Carolina. Wilmington, North Carolina to be exact.
There are however, some positives about this whole move. The first (and most obvious) being the weather. Lets just say that last weekend we went to the beach. In March. I think I may even have a bit of a sunburn. Compare this to my parents back in “The North” (Ohio). They are still digging out from the 10 inches of snow they got last Friday.
My dear husband picked out our house. Its 9 miles from the beach. The real beach. The ocean beach. I didn’t even see the place till we moved in. Its nice and quiet and everyone is very friendly. Probably because most people in the neighborhood qualify for the early bird dinner. I have heard of a few families with young children in our neighborhood. I will have to take them a pie or something to get in good with them. Isn’t that what you do down here? Bake people pies? Its different, yes. But a nice change from the police helicopter circling my house at all hours of the night in Baltimore. The house has a driveway. Let me just say that again. It.has.a.DRIVEWAY! No more street parking. ).
I have to admit, things are less stressful here. Last weekend we went to the St. Patrick’s Day Parade downtown. We rolled in at about 10:30 and the parade started at 11:00. We got rockstar parking in a garage that is FREE on the weekends and got an even better spot on the street. In Baltimore, you have to put your chairs out on the street a week before parades in order to stake your spot. People think I’m kidding but I’ve seen it. Have you ever seen Frederick Avenue in Catonsville the week before the July 4th Parade? Its lined with chairs. If you don’t know somebody who knows somebody, you ain’t getting a spot for the parade.
Time seems to go a bit slower here. Nobody is rushing around. Nobody seems stressed. Could it be because there is no insane traffic? Gone are my days of fighting the I-695 Beltway traffic. I may change my tune once peak beach season gets here. Which by the way is Easter weekend. Easter! Up North, its Memorial Day. I’m sure those darn tourists are going to make my quest of a peaceful life a living hell. But I am not one of them. Don’t ever call me a tourist. But don’t call me a Southerner either.