My time in the Burbs: An Anthropological Study

I've been on the East Coast this week on business and decided to stay at my sister and brother in law's place this weekend. Since late Friday morning my life has been very different than it usually is.

Typical Friday afternoon:

I go to a workout class with Britt Bravo. I come home, shower, go to dinner with my husband, watch a movie. Fall asleep around midnight.

This Friday afternoon:

I go with my sister to pick up her kids from Day care. It's the last day of "summer camp," the last hurrah for my 5-year-old niece, Bella, before she starts kindergarten next week. Bella is fully ensconced in what I can only describe as a pre-schooler's rave: Very loud music has been pumped onto the playground, and a man is blowing up and tying balloons, which become swords and glowsticks. Some run over my feet; some come by to chat.

"Are you Bella's Gramma?"
"No. I'm her mother's sister. I'm her aunt."
"Oh."

We pick up her two year old and let Bella dance a while longer. Then we do the "loading," when we put the kids in their respective car seats.

"Bastian, hold my hand! Hold my hand! Hold my hand! Hold my hand!"
"Bastian, listen to Aunt Jory ... Hold her hand ... hold her hand ... hold her hand."
"(Screaming) My Hannah Montana pencil! It fell! I need my Hannah Montana pencil! Pick up my Hanna Montana pencil Aunt Jory!!!!"
"Jor, do you need help strapping her in?"
"(fumbling) No I got it (fumbling). I got it."
"Here let me ... "(click)

As we drive, we start to socialize the concept of dinner. Julie says to me sotto voce: "I think we should take them to the D-I-N-E-R."

"Where to, kids?"
"Dinah! Dinah!" says the 2 year old.
"Nera! Nera!" says the 5 year old?
"You don't want to go to Panera, do you?"
"Yeeeeeeeaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!"
"Nera, Nera!" says the two year old.
"Guess we'll go to Panera."

Bastian gets a grilled cheese.

"Jor, would you cut his sandwich up a bit?"
"Sure." I start cutting Bastian's sandwich into squares.
"Mama!" Bella yells. "She's cutting too much!" I realize that I've created too many pieces as the two year old starts to scream and cry.
"It's OK, Jor," my sister says. "You didn't know." She tries to reason with Bastian that the sandwich tastes just as good in six pieces as it does in three. We end up eating most of his sandwich.

I fell asleep at 7:30 while watching Diego.

Typical Saturday:

I wake up, make breakfast with my husband. He goes on a hard core bike ride (the kind I don't join him on) while I work. We reconvene in the afternoon, go shopping, make dinner, and go out to a movie.

This Saturday:

There's a child in my room. I realize people have been up hours. My sister negotiates breakfast:
"Bastian, you want toast?"
"No."
"Yogurt drink?"
"Ya?"
"This one?"
"No!"
"This one?"
"No!"
"What do you want then?"
"Toast."

My sister and brother-in-law get the kids dressed and ready for their weekly hour at the gym. Julie says that this is a good time for her to get in a workout and a shower while the kids are being watched. I opt not to go--I've only just read a few of the posts about the Palin nomination and want to catch up on email. I also want to workout, but since I didn't pack running shoes, and my sister is wearing hers, I decide to flip channels and watch The Dead Zone--the original--instead. Man, it's good.

I hear a voice from upstairs. My sister is showered and exercised.

"You coming with us to lunch?"
"Duhhhhhhhhh ..."
"Ten minutes."

We go to the Diner this time. Bastian has a chocolate milk, a grilled cheese and a side of cottage cheese. He's had some rather interesting BMs these days, so mom wants to keep him away from fruit. I wonder how a kid can consume so much dairy and not have weird BMs. Bella opts for blueberry pancakes and cottage cheese. I offer to cut them for her, but she shoos me away and opts to stab them into a syruppy paste.

"Watch your elbows, Bella," Julie says. Her bowl of cottage cheese looks vulnerable.
"Bastian sit!"
"Bell, your aunt said she didn't want any. Stop touching her face."
"Drink diss, An-Jory!"
"No thank you, Sweetie.

"Bastian sit down!"
"No picking! Keep your fingers out of there. Don't touch your aunt!" Bella's fingers are sticky and wet.
"Bastian sit down!"
"Bella no!"

The dish of cottage cheese crashes to the floor.

My sister cleans up the short people while my brother in law pays the bill. We decide on a strategy of efficiency: Julie and Chris will go into Trader Joes. Chris will shop, Julie will make sure Bella does not run into anything. I opt to watch over Bastian, who's fallen asleep in his car seat. It's a perfect time to check Twitter feeds on the Palin nomination.

We go home and I fall asleep.

"Jor, you up?" my sister says. "The kids have a swim lesson, if you want to go."

I think, this might be my chance to get some fresh air. I'm getting ready whey the kids' babysitter and swim coach, Michelle arrives. Michelle is a college student and former competitive swimmer. The kids come out in these mini wetsuits.

"What's all this?"
"They're SPF 50."
"Is this what they wear these days?"
"Ummmm, yeah."
"Bella's wearing shoes."
"Swimming shoes."

Despite changing Bastian before Michelle arrived, he has what my sister calls a "Blowout" in his pants. Chris opts to leave for the pool with Bella and Michelle. I stay behind and will go to the pool with Julie and Bastian. We clean him up and strap him into the Touareg.

"I don't know where the pool is," Julie says.
"You kidding?"
"Hey, I don't normally drive! I don't pay attention."

God we're similar.

Julie backs out of the garage--CRASH!

"Omigod!"
"What was that?"
"Wha wa da Mama?"
"That must be Michelle's car! Oh God! What was I thinking? Oh God, oh God, oh God."

I get out and take a look. There's some damage to my sister's SUV, but Michelle's car has sustained much more damage. The back end of the car is completely dented.

"What have I done? What have I done?"
"Julie let's go. We'll tell her at the pool."

On the way there my sister relives the event:

"I had SEEN her car before I got in the car, what was I thinking? What have I done!"
"Just make sure that she gets a rental so that she can fix this."
"She's in college. This is such an inconvenience for her."
"Just make sure she's got that rental covered."
"Chris will kill me. He'll kill me."
"Where's the pool?" We've been driving down one road for a while.
"Omigod, am I going the right way?' My sister sounds desperate. "Bastian, Sweetie, where's the pool?"
"Dat way!" He points to the right.
"Oh God, I knew I went too far." My sister flips a U-turn.
"Did you just ask your two-year-old for directions?"
"Bastian, should Mommy keep going this way?"
"Yah."

God we're similar.

Bastian guided us to the pool.

I hang out on the kiddie end, where the water is not even a foot deep. It just seems more manageable over there.

Comments

Now WHY is it that people want to be parents...?? :)

Posted by: Zandria | August 31, 2008 at 10:24 AM

Oh my good God...my sweet baby boy gave you directions....and he's only two....I'm so proud of him.

Oh my good God...this is why you never, ever get pressure from me about having children. Did you hug your sister today? ~ Love, Mom

Posted by: Joy | August 31, 2008 at 02:56 PM

Yep, it's dangerous out there all right. But it does get better, one day Bastian will be able to drive himself to the pool :-)
Thanks for a vivid and hilarious account, Jory.

Posted by: genevieve | August 31, 2008 at 07:55 PM