Coaching It
We tempted fate--and the moods of infants and young children--by attending a Chicago Cubs game last week. The Cubs won, my son had a fantastic time proven with the foam claw he has been roaring through the house ever since, and my daughter slept from the 7th Inning on. For those that have been to a stadium for a ball game, sleeping, for anyone is a feet. For a 7 1/2 month old who's never been to one of the drunken parties? Well, it's plainly amazing.
At least until we stand up to leave the ball park and head to the car. We take the far lot parking because we're cheap and because a bus shuttles us to and from the field. Most times we can even get back on the road before those parked close to the stadium. And last Wednesday was no exception.
We beat the crowd (well we left at the end of the 8th. Another habit of parents). The baby wakes up (of course!) and stares blankly at the young couple across from us on the city bus. They're both missing a 3 month old they left at home for this circus. We truck it across a few (hundred) rows of cars to the our own, buckle the kid in and then decide against our better nature to have me Coach the Ride.
We're a traditional bunch--husband or myself drives (most of the time when it's the family, it's my husband) and the kids are in the back. And now that we have a Honda Pilot, The Kiddo likes the back, back (third row), The Peanut rests in the seat behind the passenger in the second row. All well and good, until it is dark out or the traffic is so bad it's less the crawl speed (and that's saying a lot having a 7 month old crawler along for the ride). Then the Peanut screams her head off. Much like she did on the drive DOWN to the game. When I was by my lonesome and meeting my husband at the field.
So to avoid drama, and my just about fraying nerves, I rode coach. Seat 2, Second row. The Husband hated the situation, but would have hated it more with a screeching infant, so dealt with the over the shoulder conversation with a wife that was tending to a now over-tired and more than awake baby. And a roaring, claw waving 6 year old.
Traffic was bearable. The baby screamed but in happy, over-tired sorta ways. And The Kiddo crashed into some deep sleep about 10 miles from the house. We made it. But then, of course we would. Crying or not. Only issue now, is every time we step in the car, the baby expects another passenger in Coach. Mainly me.
At least until we stand up to leave the ball park and head to the car. We take the far lot parking because we're cheap and because a bus shuttles us to and from the field. Most times we can even get back on the road before those parked close to the stadium. And last Wednesday was no exception.
We beat the crowd (well we left at the end of the 8th. Another habit of parents). The baby wakes up (of course!) and stares blankly at the young couple across from us on the city bus. They're both missing a 3 month old they left at home for this circus. We truck it across a few (hundred) rows of cars to the our own, buckle the kid in and then decide against our better nature to have me Coach the Ride.
We're a traditional bunch--husband or myself drives (most of the time when it's the family, it's my husband) and the kids are in the back. And now that we have a Honda Pilot, The Kiddo likes the back, back (third row), The Peanut rests in the seat behind the passenger in the second row. All well and good, until it is dark out or the traffic is so bad it's less the crawl speed (and that's saying a lot having a 7 month old crawler along for the ride). Then the Peanut screams her head off. Much like she did on the drive DOWN to the game. When I was by my lonesome and meeting my husband at the field.
So to avoid drama, and my just about fraying nerves, I rode coach. Seat 2, Second row. The Husband hated the situation, but would have hated it more with a screeching infant, so dealt with the over the shoulder conversation with a wife that was tending to a now over-tired and more than awake baby. And a roaring, claw waving 6 year old.
Traffic was bearable. The baby screamed but in happy, over-tired sorta ways. And The Kiddo crashed into some deep sleep about 10 miles from the house. We made it. But then, of course we would. Crying or not. Only issue now, is every time we step in the car, the baby expects another passenger in Coach. Mainly me.
