Minnesota Day 4

Though our third day was quite long, Day 4 proved to equally as busy and fun. We checked out of our hotel...

... took one last look at our city view...

...and we hit the Minnesota Zoo! Where they welcome humans, animals and toe suckers alike!

We stopped to eat lunch at their food court and then we immediately headed over to the penguins. We tried to wait around to see their feeding, but so was everyone else.

So we ventured over to pet some Tiger Sharks. I was the only one in our family who was either willing or tall enough to lean over the rock barricade--so I had Matt take a picture. I occasionally like to prove I existed in our family pictures.

These were just very ornate and beautiful. I had to take a picture. 

We then ventured into the Tropical section. The girls loved looking at all the exotic animals. 

This monkey guy (excuse my lack of knowledge on his exact species name) was putting on a great show. I have several videos of him practicing swinging from limb to limb. Show-off!

There were several little cave places for kids only--well, they were small, tight squeezes so I assume they were for kiddos. My girls loved them--it gave them plenty of independence!

We like to pose!

And we checked our wing span...

Even Dad got in on the action.

Brownie's favorite part was the splash park that was smack dab in the middle of the zoo. See that smile--yeah, this zoo blew ours out of the park. And I can say we got our money's worth!

Like waaaay outta the park!

This is as close as any of us have ever been to brown bears--or any bear for that matter.

They went round and round several times. And before we knew it, the zoo was closing. So we headed to our new hotel down the road to stay our last night. 

The girls were so cute. They wanted to go out with a bang and get all dressed up and go out to a "nice" restaurant on our last night. So we did. We found this little place called Roasted Pear and it had some pretty good food. 

This was our appetizer with Brie and garlic toast. Quite delicious. It certainly had us wishing for a fridge in our hotel room!

We posed in front of the restaurant...

... then headed "home" for a late night swim. We promised they could swim, and I even gave it a shot for a few minutes. But a certain Scrunchie got a bit irritated (it was nearly 10:30 after all), so she and I headed back to the room.

But she did look cute in that pink suit--rolls and all!

I picked up our room and packed our bags so we could head home the next day. It was such a great time and I'm left feeling so blessed that I got to spend some quality time with my older two (and Scrunchie of course). We had plenty of opportunities to truly enjoy each other's company since we didn't have quite as many distractions. And despite some crazy travel issues on Day 3, I am so happy we had this trip. I sure hope our girls feel just as happy and blessed.

And Now Back to Our Minnesota Trip

 

Well, day three was rather pictureless. Except for these sleeping beauties, I falied to capture a single moment of our day. And that, my friends, is because our day was qutie an adventure. I will never forget that day... and I only wish I had pictures to show you the craziness!

We set our sights on the Mall of America for Friday. Brownie had a friend who, a month earlier, had moved from our town to Wisconsin. So we decided to meet them at MOA for a day of fun. We just needed to figure out how to get there.

 So if you know me, you know I'm not a "big city driver." I despise it. I hate it. The traffic. The waiting. Ugh! I'm not a city driver. AT ALL! Thank goodenss I'd heard that we should take the light rail to the MOA--which would only be about a 30 minute ride. It was a 6 block walk--stroller and all--to our boarding destination. So I figured it'd be a nice 30 minute sit-down-break after our walk. And after walking around the mall, I knew 30 minutes of sitting again would be handy on our way home. Well, that was my first mistake--thinking we'd be sitting! HA!

We arrived to our boarding site on time--a little early actually. I got my ticket and we waited for the "train(???)" I don't know what it's called, but the vehicle that carries us around. After a few  minutes it came and we boarded. I even found a nice handicap spot that had a two-seater next to a big empty spot for wheel chaiirs--or strollers. We were enjyoing our ride for about 5-10 minutes when all of a sudden they kicked us--all of us riders, not just my girls and me--off the "train." Something about getting on a bus was all we were told.

Honestly I wondered if this was sometimes par for the course in city traveling. I didn't know any better! So we get off the train and look for the busses, which happen to be down some stairs--I HAVE A STROLLER. I looked around and found an elevator (thank God), and we made it to a bus. And then I had to ask some nice strangers to help me lug my sit-n-stand (with a baby and loaded diaper bag in it) up the bus stairs while I prayed that we'd find a place where we'd fit to sit all together.

Thankfully we found a tight squeeze near the front of the bus. We sat down and I thought we were headed toward the mall (which was the last stop on the light rail), at which we'd arrive in roughly 20 minutes. Guess what? I was wrong. We rode around on that thing for over an hour. I'll spare you the very boring detials, but suffice it to say it was hot, I felt we were lost, and I was late for meeting our friends. So I get out my phone.

But oh, this is the day of fallacies! My phone was nearly dead. I saw some missed calls from our friends, so I tried to get one text into to say that we were late and I wouldn't know when we'd arrive. BUT my phone died mid-text. I didn't even know where we were meeting her and here I was leaving her stranded with unanswered phone calls. And in this day and age when you program phone numbers and never memorize them... let's just say I had no idea what phone number to call even if I did find a pay phone (in a very large mall).

Then I remember one of Matt's co-workers saying that they spent time in the Apple store at the mall (it might help to know at this point that I have an iphone). So I decide that's where we'll head first when we eventually get to the mall so I can hopefully charge my phone. But that's too far in the future because right now I'm riding around on a hot bus full of people trying to get to work on time. But eventually we end up at the airport and the bus drops us off. They tell us that we can ride another "train" to get to where we need to go. And we do. We catch our next "train" within about 10 minutes and once again we're on our way to the MOA. Along the way we see another "train" stopped dead in it's tracks on an overpass. It is empty because the people on it were un loaded once they realized some power was down and it couldn't go any further. It was blocking the way for all other "trains" and that was the reason we couldn't ride our "train" all the way to the mall.

It's now over an hour past the time we said we'd meet at the mall and I'm worried that our friends have forgotten us since we are a no-show and not answering phone calls. But we finally make it and we of course have to find a bathroom immediatley (three littles and one in diapers=fun). We found one and then headed to the map of the mall--which in all my stress I couldn't figure out how to read for the life of me. So I decide to just ask somebody to point me toward the Apple store.

A ten minute sprint later I'm in the Apple store begging for help and the college kid points me over toward the one charger that'll work the best--but it doesn't have a cord. It's just a docking station--so if I want to talk I have to bend down and press my ear up against the phone. HA! Meanwhile, my kids are in awe of the cardboard cut-outs of people with various iproducts. They nearly knock them over as I'm performing my "bend down and talk" dance. I decide for plan B and just text her saying... "long story. can't talk. can text. we're here, sorry we're late. Where to meet?"

She answers back with "the carousel" and I have no idea where this is. I know we talked about meeting in the Nickelodeon park, so I'm assuming that's where a carousel is. We sprint another 10 minutes to the park and find a dozen little carousels. But since she said "The" carousel, I'm assuming we'll see a nice-sized one somewhere. I look all around, check maps but can't figure out where we are let alone anything else. I'm telling you, I don't deal well under pressure. I'm much too frazzeled.

Out of sheer dumb luck we stumble upon this carousel and one of the girls shouts out "there's Mary." Ah, yes! There are our friends who didn't give up on us. I'm so happy because my little Brownie would've just been terribly sad if we didn't get to see Mary.

They got off the ride and we decided it was time for lunch. Together, the other mom and I figured out where to go to eat. We had a nice lunch and even stopped at the Disney store (Boushka and Bug needed some presents). Then we headed back to the amusement park where we were amused all afternoon. We rode Diego's bus. Drove around in Rugrats' bumper cars. Rode the carousel again! Ventured onto a Blues Clues ride that resembles Dumbo's ride at Disney World. And of course we pottied about twice an hour. I think by the end of this day, we all knew where the bathrooms were!

We finished up our nice day with a cookie from the Nestle store. Mary and Brownie had a blast playing together and it was nice to see her mom and siblings as well. It turns out they had a rough time arriving at the mall as well, so we ended up not being all that late. We both wished each other luck for our trips home and parted ways around 5pm.

Hesitantly, we bought another "train" ticket and waited. Finally we boarded, but this time it was rush hour. On a Friday. Right before a Twins game! "CRAP!" Was my only thought.

We hardly made it on the "train" before it's doors wanted to close. It was so jam packed and we didn't have a place to sit. Luckily, I got the stroller manuevered into a "bike" section that was basically long and empty so the stroller fit. But there were no seats for the girls or for me. But I was able to have one sit between the stroller and the side of the "train" while the other girl sat on the "sit" part of our "sit-n-stand."

We were surrouded by people headed to the game, and here I was a hot, frazzled mom with three kids trying to hold onto the stroller with one hand while the other held onto the handle that hangs from the ceiling. I thought, okay, we've got this! And then Scrunchie lost it. She'd been traveling for three days, and had spent enough time in that stroller--and she chose NOW to let us know!

By the way, she wasn't just crying. She was belting out her best tune that soudned like somebody was hurting her to her core. People started looking at us, but they were full of pitty instead of anger or frustration. I tried holding her a few times, but that didn't help--plus it was nearly impossible to hold her, hold on so I didn't fall, and try to hold the stroller in place so it didn't go rolling around. So for 30 minutes I just prayed she'd stop crying and that we could ride this thing out to our stop and skip the whole "switching to a bus" thing.

A very long "train" ride later we ended up at our downtown destination. I even gave everybody surrounding us a warning at the stop before ours that we'd be getting off next. They were all very nice and made it their duty to see that we could get through. I bet they were ready for us to get off so they could have a little break from the baby cries.

I was worried the doors would open and close without us being able to get off, but we made it safely thanks to the help of our "train neighbors." And now was the easy part--walking 6 blocks back to the hotel with cranky, hot, preschoolers and a screaming baby during rush hour. Oh, and my dead phone!

But we made it. And we even found Matt, which I wasn't sure we would since he wasn't able to reach me. We grabbed a quick dinner at the hotel restaurant because the girls really wanted to go swimming that night. So we ate in a hurry and then ran back to the room. Poor Scrunchie was caput by this point and wanting to go to bed. So I decided to stay with her and finish reading The Help and unwind. Matt took the big girls swimming four a couple hours and I finished the book. That was a relaxing evening and the quiet was very nice by that point.

The girls came back with many stories about jumping off the ladder, swimming under water and playing with daddy. I was so happy to see them so happy spending that time with their dad. That, after all, was the purpose of this trip for us--to give the older two girls some very much needed one-on-two time. And they soaked it up.

It was a crazy day, but we all made it to our destinations safely. We were happy to see our friends and we all enjoyed the rides at the park. Ask me to do it all again and I'd say, YES! But I would make sure my phone was actually plugged in while charging! Oh, and I almost forgot... the reason I had no pictures (other than a dead phone that couldn't take any) was because I forgot to put the battery back into the camera after charging it all night. HA! What a day.... :-)

We Continue to Interrupt this Program...

I've been needing to post the rest of our vacation stories, but I'm going to post this kindergarten stuff before the memories leave.

Well, the bandage was finally ripped off yesterday as my (big) baby girl went off to school. She's my first to flutter her wings beyond my nest, and I'm glad she finally started kindergarten. 

I say finally because it's been on my mind since the beginning of... well,  her I guess.  When I was pregnant, like many moms I'm sure, I imagined her life. I pictured her in my arms, sleeping away. I thought about the first time she'd say mama. And you can bet your bottom dollar I thought about the day she would go off to the big, bad world of kindergarten. But back then, when I looked ahead at the time (almost six years exactly), it seemed that it would take forever to get here. After all, I was concentrating on the events that would be taking place in the immediate future (her first smile).... not things (like kindergarten) that wouldn't happen for a very, very long time! HAHAHA! I'm laughing at that thought, now!

Isn't it funny that when you look ahead in time, you can't believe that it'll ever pass faster than snail speed. But when you look back on time, it's gone in a blink of the eye? Well, I learned my lesson--

I'm not blinking ever, ever again! At least when it comes to my babies. Because it really just isn't possible that she's gone at school all day now. My mind just refuses to believe what my eyes see. 

Well, when the morning came she was all ready to go in her new dress, new necklace and new hair flowers. The day before, a sweet friend offered to watch my other girls so that I could spend a little date with my kindergartner girl the day before she started school.  And of course that's when all the new clothing items were purchased (we also grabbed lunch and Fro Yo--great memories). 

We all watched and waited for the big yellow bus to come roaring down the road. And when it did I teared up. I didn't think I would, honestly. I thought it would all go so fast that I would be too wrapped up in the moment to let a little thing like emotions get to me. But oh, was I wrong. As soon as that bus pulled away I had a thought hit me that made me sob--like ugly, red face, squinty eyes, can't catch your breath, squeaky voiced sob, folks.

(Even though they didn't wait at the exact bus stop, they still sat on our porch and watched as our girl got on the bus)

 

As that bus headed towards the school, I saw everything I had worked so hard for, poured all of my love, devotion, time, money, blood. sweat, tears, heart and soul into for six years... simply pull away. It's like I was sending her packing into the unknown and begging the universe to be good to her. To treat her like she deserves to be treated. Trusting everybody else with your heart is a mighty big step in this mothering journey. And that's about the time my face turned squinty, wet, and hot.

To help the mother-heart understand what my head already knew, I drove to school to see her in her classroom. I just needed to see her there, to know that it was real, so that I could move on. And it was real. She was there. In fact, the little stinker beat me-- as you can see she was already sitting in her seat reading books by the time I arrived. 

Bless her heart, she indulged me. She posed and acted just as she would have had it been any other time I wanted to take her picture. Isn't she adorable? She just looked so grown up to me sitting there like that. She knew exactly what to do. How to do it. How to behave. She put things where they belonged. She did everything perfectly. Again, my head knew she would, but my heart has it's own eyes it needs to see with. Even in the day or two leading up to kindergarten, I kept asking her if I taught her everything she needed to know. I checked her knowledge by quizzing her in topics ranging from what to do when a stranger approaches, to helping her spell her last name. I knew she knew it all, but I just freaked out at that last moment that I hadn't done everything I should have done. Or that maybe I didn't do it right. But as I hugged her one last time and left her sitting at her desk, I walked out of that classroom knowing that I'll never stop loving her--but I'll have to change the way in which I show her love. She needs me to be a mom of a kindergartner, and not a mom of a two year old. And so I will do as I should.

Because when it comes down to it, she's just not that little baby who needs me to hold a bottle for her anymore. She knows how to be respectful, kind, helpful and careful. She knows her address, phone numbers, and how to spell her name. She even knows things I never taught her (watch out Mathletes 2020-2024)--which just continues to amaze me. And I'll show her just how much I care by doing things that help her continue to grow.

Things like getting her a cold drink of water when she comes home all sweaty from a hot bus ride! Things like listening to her tell me how awesome the first day of school was. And of course, I'll be sneaking in hugs and kisses for the rest of her life--whether she likes it or not!

Thoughts, err-- My Feelings on Kindergarten

For lack of better words in order to avoid sounding like a drama queen, I can fully admit that I'm in mourning. Of course, nothing terribly sad is happening. Nobody is ill. I still have my house, my family, and most of my sanity. But I feel as if I'm losing part of the life I've lived the past six years--and it's for the closing of this life chapter that I mourn.

 Yes, I'm mourning, but I'm also experiencing feelings that I haven't felt since I was about to deliver my first baby. Back when the unknown was truly scary, and I couldn't create a balance between the complete joy and extreme fright I felt as I was about to hold my first child. Back when I struggled with letting go of who I was while trying to stand tall and noble on the threshold of motherhood.

Not many people know this, and my 6-year-ago-self would be completely embarrassed to admit this now (because it was a secret I was taking to the grave), but I refused to go into the hospital when my first daughter was due to arrive. When we pulled into the hospital parking lot, I remained in my my seat as Matt got out of the car. My husband could not persuade me to go inside.  I was being a hot, stubborn mess. All of a sudden, I felt I was not ready to do this whole birthing thing. I wasn't ready to change.

I sat in the passenger seat of my good ol' college car (a nice, silver Grand am) with tears in my eyes and dread in my heart. Dread may be a strong word, but it only matches the raw emotion I was feeling as I was facing the biggest life-change I'd ever experienced.  Going through my parents' divorce, going to college, graduating college--none of these changes were as intimidating as the one I was preparing to undertake. What can compare to entering motherhood for the first time?

But the feeling of dread was only part of the picture. It failed to encompass the exhilarated, joyous, thrilled side of my emotions. Of course, I was ecstatic that I was about to become something so powerful, so incredible, and so overwhelmingly beautiful. I couldn't wait to hold that tiny, pink-fleshed, wriggly, screaming gooey mess of a newborn. I pictured lazy days spent cuddling in the hospital bed, where we'd sleep together, eat together, and strengthen our bond as mother and child. But as I sat in the car with my husband standing by my side, waiting for me to make a move toward getting out and heading into the hospital, all I could concentrate on was the dreadful feeling of accepting change.

I spent 9 months with the knowledge that someday this little thing inside me would actually have to make her way out into the real world. She would have to live and breathe like the rest of humanity. But I must have lived those months in a continual state of denial about the reality of birthing a real human that I'd be responsible for--forever.  In my defense, we didn't exactly plan our pregnancy, so I didn't enter into it fully ready and anticipating the pitter patter of little feet. It was almost as if I'd been living my life not pregnant, and then all of a sudden while sitting in the hospital parking lot, I realized that not only was I pregnant-- but I was about to give birth.

Convinced I was staying put in the car, my husband called my mom to come "talk me into" going in to the hospital. But while I was sitting there, I knew I was just borrowing time. I knew I'd end up going into the hospital and having a baby within several hours. But I was trying to hold onto my life as I knew it--even as excited as I was to welcome my child. I just needed a few minutes to let it hit me. As I sat there in the late summer heat, I was letting the reality of this change set it (since I failed so miserably to take care of that the previous 9 months).

After several minutes, maybe an hour, I finally got out of the car and waddled into the birthing room with teary eyes. Like a bear settling into his den for a winter nap, the idea of becoming a mother was settling in my mind. It became comfortable. I realized I was about to change everything I had ever known about life. I was no longer just me; I was somebody's mom. And while logically, a part of me knew this all along, I never fully let my heart accept it. But as you an imagine, as soon as that perfect little being was placed on my chest, I knew no other calling in life could ask so much, hurt so much, or love so much. I was ready to take on the incredibly rewarding challenge of motherhood.

Fast-forward six years and I'm counting down the weeks and days until kindergarten--it's bittersweet. I keep (selfishly) thanking my lucky stars that she was born 2 days after the cut-off date so that I could keep her at home one more year. And while I've known for quite some time that my baby would some day leave my nest and attend school all day long, I tried to not ever think about it--that is until this past year where some moments have been filled with the same angst and excitement as they were in that hot car six years ago.

Slowly, I have let the new reality, this change, settle in my mind. I've pictured her not being at our table for lunch during the week. In my mind I've played the movie reel of what will be her kindergarten life--getting on the bus, making new friends, eating lunch with other people, singing at a school program...

But ask me if I'm ready to let her go (just this little bit) and I bet you can guess my answer. No!

No, I'm not ready to turn her over 8 hours a day, 5 days a week. I'm not ready to forgive time for passing without me taking a breath. I'm not ready to let the world have my precious gift. I'm not ready for this change.

But unlike the hours preceding her birth, I can't just sit in a car and wait until I'm ready. Because really, she is ready. She's more than ready to be the big girl Matt and I have raised her to be. She's fully capable of handling herself in school, writing her name, obeying the teacher's rules, and letting her father and I watch her succeed. She is ready to grow, as I do too. And while I'm happy that she's well-prepared, healthy and excited for school, there's that part of me in my heart that never wants to let her go. That part that would be more than happy to keep her little, unscathed by anybody's anger or bitterness, and as pure as the afternoon sunlight that fills a room.

I find myself, daily, playing the movie of her life thus far. I see her first holidays, foods, and steps. I remember her meeting each of her sisters for the first time. There are memories of us playing at the park where she wanted me to keep pushing her higher and higher. I see us in our kitchen where I'm letting her help me cook.  In her sweet 2 year old baby voice, I hear her ask me if she can help me dust, or feed the baby. I  see the disappointment in her toddler eyes when I tell her it's time for nap. I see her big cheeks turn up into a grin as I blow raspberries on her baby belly. I smell her hair after she got out of the bath in our old house. I hear the excitement in her voice as she built an amazing tower with her blocks. I can see, hear, and smell everything--even the things I once thought I'd never remember, or want to remember.  And then suddenly I'm thrown back into present time--where I sit with just a few more days to make these memories that I'll file in the "while she was still at home" category.

No one ever said life was easy, and I know nobody every once mentioned in any moment of clarity that motherhood was easy. But it is easy to love your babies. It is easy to desire the best of the best for them. It is easy to tuck them in with a goodnight kiss and a story. But my friends, it is not easy to let them go. Even if they're only going to kindergarten.

In a few days, I'll walk her out our front door, her hand tucked safely in mine, and wave goodbye as she boards the school bus. And while I'll be fighting the urge to cry and scoop her up in my arms running back into our house as if I were running back in time, I'll also begin to understand another side of being her momma. I'll have to accept this change as I have and will all others, but that doesn't mean I have to like every part of it. It just means that I'm human and I have deep, instinctual love that overpowers most logic I have. But thankfully I also have a little sense left to realize this day is about her and not about me and my feelings. So I'll be there, smiling and supporting her through every step of the way--as I always have and always will. That, my friends, will never change!