Fear Factor

Yesterday I faced my fears and traveled via public transit to NYC with 2 year old in tow. When I usually go into he city by myself I walk around guns blazed, full confidence no one can get in my way. However, after I had my daughter I haven’t traveled with the same confidence. In fact, I haven’t really traveled at all so I was determined to meet my husband at work. I figured I only had to make a one-way trip alone, since he’d come with me on the way home. Our trip began on the bus. This would be simple enough since Ali and I have taken the bus a few blocks before. Well the “in town” bus driver is much different from the city bound driver. I folded up the stroller and got on but before I could pay this driver hit the road. I had no idea what to do. I wasn’t about to leave Ali alone in a seat with the bus moving so I could go pay. What was this driver thinking? Finally she stopped at a red light and I was able to pay my way. Good thing Ali was within arms reach, I was able to stretch my body to the limits to ensure I had one toe on Ali in the seat and my hands free put the money in the machine, the stroller had to fend for itself.

We made it to the port authority and now it was time to hit the dreaded subway. I strapped Ali into the stroller nice and tight. My father once told me the port authority was where kidnappers waited for kids who ran away into the city. I think this was supposed to make me fear running away, unfortunately I just fear bus stations. Of course the subway is 2 flights downstairs so I had to wander around in my personal nightmare to find an elevator, all the while making sure kidnappers aren’t following us. We found the elevator and thankfully there was another couple with a baby already riding so I didn’t have to ride alone. We made it to the subway and somehow braved the underground 3,000-degree heat. Ali was excited when our train came; I was excited for air conditioning.

We made it to our stop and I'm confronted with a fear I never knew I had: escalators. I’m not talking about a normal one-story 45-degree escalator; I’m talking about 53^rd and Lexington. It’s about 5 stories and probably rises at 85 degrees. I almost hyperventilated, but the only way out was up. I kept Ali in the stroller because I knew once I got onto the death machine I wouldn’t physically be able to move so she needed to be immobile as well. I said my prayers and rolled on. I ended up taking 5 steps in an extreme forward lunge to try to lessen the rising angle. I stared at my feet for the 5-minute ride because looking up made me dizzy and looking down made me vomit. We finally made it to the top and when we saw daylight again I was a new woman. I have conquered the NYC transit with Ali. Nothing can stop me now! (except the movie Poltergeist … don’t ask). 

Missing the comforts of home.

Since I’ve moved off to Hoboken life has been good. I walk more, I play more and I’m finally tan.. well tann-ish. But every now and then I start to miss some of the modern comforts suburbia has to offer. The first would probably be the luxury of parking your car in front of your home. I think I’ve gotten a spot in front of my building three times and only because it was street cleaning day and I shouldn’t have been parked there. But the main thing I long for is my dry cleaner Lee. A drycleaner, you ask? Yes. I had gone to her maybe three times as a teen to unwillingly drop off some shirts for my dad and she not only knew my name she knew exactly who I was picking up for. She’d even ask detailed questions about my mom and brothers. When I started going there for my husband she would ask “Are you picking up for Dad or Dan?” in her heavy Vietnamese accent. Eventually she began to recognize my car and would have the clothes ready by the time I walked in. She was the nicest lady on the plant, she would ask about my daughter and how daycare was going. When we moved about 20 minutes away from her and we still kept going, you cant get service like that just anywhere. She was even was a bit more expensive than any other drycleaner but we still kept going. And those who know how cheap I am realize how good she must have been. When we said our goodbyes to move to Hoboken she told me I could drop my stuff off with her anytime, me who knows it all told her I’d have to find someone up here.            

Little did I know what a task that would be! I found a dry cleaner up here with a similarly nice Asian lady. When I went to go pick them up it was a differnt man at the counter. He didn’t so much as say Hi to me he just took my ticket and grabbed the pants. I didn’t think much of it since I was tired that day too. The next time I went there he seemed annoyed that I was interrupting whatever else it was he was doing. I know there are about twenty other drycleaners I could use but at this point I want him to like me. I am always chipper when I see him and I make sure Ali is dressed really cute. I think maybe I hope the nice Asian lady will come and help but she hasn’t been around since. I think maybe she’s a bait to get you to drop off your clothes. Or she left because she couldn’t take the cranky man. I really cant stop going to them until I get to the bottom of this. 

The Secret to a Perfect Marriage

I have discovered what some have been searching for their entire married life. Many have tried and failed but I, Kelly Sater have found the secret to a perfect marriage. It isn’t sex everyday or making sure dinner is on the table when he gets home from work. It’s much deeper than that. The secret is: I work every Sunday and Monday during professional football. It’s the perfect balance I get paid to watch football at a sports bar while he stays home and watches football without having to turn on HGTV during every commercial. I think the key in our marriage isn’t that we cant watch football together it’s the fact that I married someone who cant watch football with anyone.

I grew up having Sunday dinners at my grandparents where nothing but football was allowed on the TV. My grandpa was actually super cool and would hook up two TV’s in the basement to watch multiple games at once. My husband, on the other hand, is a hermit when it comes to sports. He likes to sit alone in the house completely silent as he watches a game. I think maybe he wants to make sure he can take it all in with no distractions. If the Jets ever make it to the super bowl I wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted to rent a hotel room just for himself (as long as it has HD of course).

            So ladies, if your like me and you cant stand your husbands during football season just go down to your local sports bar and pick up a shift. You’ll make plenty of money for your fall wardrobe and your husband will be so happy he may get some laundry done while you’re gone. 

I'm Ashamed for You

The hottest book of 2011 is shaping up to be “Maggie Goes on a Diet”. It’s a children’s book about a young girl named Maggie who has no friends and gets teased about her weight. She decides to go on a diet and join the soccer team to ultimately become a popular chick. The author, Pail Kramer claims the books is meant to help the children but everyone on the planet knows better.

My main issue with the book is that it’s about a girl. Why didn’t the author choose “Joseph Goes on a Diet” or asexual “Pat Goes on a Diet”? How can he claim it’s not aimed at young girls when he clearly picked a girl as his subject? How can a grown man think he has any idea how to relate to young girls going through this? He claims it will help girls and boys realize they can take matters into their own hands. Earth to Paul : no boy is ever going to be caught dead reading a book about a fat chick named Maggie. If he weren’t getting made fun of for his weight he’d definitely get made fun of for reading girly books. 

I’ve done some research on the author. (And by research I googled him and watched some clips from GMA … this is a blog not a masters thesis) in my studies I found Paul Kramer has made a career by self-publishing children’s books in Hawaii. So no, he isn’t a doctor or a psychologist or even a nutritionist so clearly he is the authority on children’s obesity.

I’m not one to hate on something before I have a chance to truly read it but you don’t have to be a genius to figure out telling a young girl “if you were thinner you’d have friends” isn’t a good idea. The book comes out in October and I won’t be buying it. I will definitely peruse the pages at my local Barnes and noble. Maybe it can give me a few weight loss tips. 

Why I Hate the Playground

With all the commotion here on the east coast you may expect me to blog about Irene. But no one needs to hear the depressing story about how I stayed at my mothers for four days with no power only to return to my home and find I didn’t loose power at all. (All my alarm clocks were still set) I know, it’s sad.

Instead I think its time to discuss why I now hate the playground and all of its inhabitants. After the hurricane I decided to wander off my beaten path and check out some of the other playgrounds in the area. As we were about to walk into one playground I heard one of the kids ask another if his family had a Range Rover. I kept walking.

Ali and I ended up at a less crowded park and she ran off on the equipment. After a little while the place really started to clear out and it was just Ali and another young girl around 3. The girl was playing by herself with a little stuffed cat. When the girl tried to put the cat on the swing Ali walked over to investigate, since a cat on a swing is always a fun thing to watch. The little girl wasn’t happy with Ali circling her cat so she said “NO you can’t play”. OK the kids are establishing their sense of self and possession; I get it. Then this brat went on to tell me that her cat doesn’t like Ali. What? Excuse me? Are you trying to say your inanimate dingy cat has something against my daughter? This little girl had sunglasses attached to her had like swimming goggles, she’s lucky Ali and I are even talking to her.  It took every fiber of my being not to grab the cat rip its head right of the seams and throw it to kingdom come screaming “HE DOESN’T LIKE YOU”!! Cooler heads prevailed and through my teeth I asked “Why not?” She just ran off to play in eh corner by herself and Ali just played on the slide as usual. Please, why wouldn’t a stuffed animal like my daughter? She’s so chill and accepting, she was playing with a weirdo wearing goggles for the love of god. The next time we went to the park we saw the girl playing alone in the corner again, she tried to play with a boy on the swing and he said “No, I don’t want to play with you.” So it’s safe to say she got hers!