Today I awoke determined to "do something". After ruling out an over-priced art fair, and some other ideas that the kids were less than excited about, we opted for the zoo, where we have a membership, and I'm not above sneaking in snacks and drinks from home. It was bright, sunny, warm, but not too hot. Perfect for the zoo. Going when it's much above 75 degrees yields animals that look suicidal from the humidity. So, we were off.
Lesson 1: Check the weather radar before leaving the house.
We were about 10 minutes into our drive across Indianapolis when a weather alert interrupted A Prairie Home Companion. The clouds had gotten noticeably darker as we drove south, but I was optimistic. Especially since the severe thunderstorm warnings were for counties NOWHERE NEAR us! My poor knowledge of Indiana's geography aside, they gave no indication of any weather headed our way directly, and so, I was undaunted.
Lesson 2: Take a baby potty if traveling more than a few minutes from the house.
As it is apparently inevitable that your recently potty trained three year old will suddenly become desperate in her pleas to go pee, when there is absolutely no where to stop. A mile and a half from the zoo, Raina became quite adamant that we had to stop for her to pee. I was in downtown Indy, and there are no gas stations, fast food restaurants, or much of anything besides large hotels and office towers. I pulled off on the next street and found a parking lot that I didn't have to pay a toll to pull into. I got her out and helped hold her in a squatting position so she could pee. Stage fright must have gotten to her, because it took several minutes for her to pee in the grass, in a parking lot, near a street, in a very public area. She seemed relieved though, and we got back into the car, turned out of the parking lot, got off the side street, and back onto the road leading us to the zoo. AS SOON AS I PULLED OUT onto that street, she says, "Mommy I need to pee again." Sigh.
Lesson 3: Always carry a towel.
And maybe a change of clothes for myself too, instead of just for the kids. We zoomed into the zoo parking lot, Raina still squirming in her car seat and whimpering at her need to pee. Again. The rain started to fall as I handed the parking attendant my membership card and driver's license. She assured me the weather wasn't supposed to last long. I smiled, still optimistic. I pulled wildly into a parking spot and rushed around, this time with the umbrella, and got Raina again out of the car, and into the "mama supported pee squat" position in the parking lot. There was no one around, as the rain was really starting to pick up, and we were fairly blocked by other cars.
Stage fright. Again. Only this time, she really couldn't go. The rain was starting to come down really hard now (please refer to lesson 1). I shuffled her back into the car, relieved that I'd not gotten too wet and that hail hadn't started to fall as the thunder and lightening began. But again, Raina was insistent, once back in the shelter of the car, that she did, indeed, need to pee. Sighing, but still keeping it together, I grabbed the umbrella, went back around to her side of the car, and was considerably less lucky this time. I got soaked. Not just a little wet, but see-through-my light-khaki-shorts, top-sticking-to-me, soaked. The rain was coming down in a way reminiscent of my experience at Terrapin Hill's fall festival in 2009. It was monumental, and the water at our sandaled feet was suddenly an inch deep, rather than just slightly damp pavement. When we conceded that she was not going to be able to pee, we hustled back into the car. And you can guess what she said about 15 seconds after we got back inside the car.
This time I made her climb up to the driver's seat and we got out on my side of the car. Still nothing. She couldn't pee in a parking lot with gallons of rain falling on her, despite the umbrella. Frustrated, I told her she'd just have to wait till we got into the zoo. Just then, the rain let up to a light sprinkle.
Lesson 4: Pay attention to where you shove things like your driver's license and membership card.
This little act of inattention led me to rush frantically (for fear of Raina being soaked with rain and pee) back to the car to retrieve these items, only to find that they were in my wallet, where I'd already looked while waiting to enter. Sigh.
Finally to the potty. Yay. Success and tragedy averted. We see the first couple of exhibits and head into the forest exhibit, which it turns out is mostly closed till they open the new tiger habitat next weekend. And what do you know, Raina says she needs to pee again. We've been in the gates all of five minutes, and we're off to the second bathroom stop of the day.
Lesson 5: Let your kids have fun in places that are made for them to have fun.
Maybe my perspective is skewed since we have a zoo membership,and therefore have the ability to take our time, not rush, and see only what we really want, but I always feel like very few other people at places like that are ever having any fun. Their kids are whining, the parents are screaming at the whining kids, the parents are rushing them along to the next exhibit, or perhaps lingering too long for their 2 year old. I don't know, but it always frustrates me. Sure, you paid a lot of money, and don't live nearby, and want to see and do as much as you can to really get your money's worth, but geez, would it kill you try and do things at the kid's pace? I really hate going to places like zoos and museums when they're extremely crowded, for the obvious reasons, but also because it's not really possible for the kids to have any experience beyond their parents being stressed about where they've gone in the sea of people. One of the experience I had today involved the numerous rain puddles throughout the zoo. My kids wanted to jump in them, and why not?! It was warm, and we were there for them to have fun, and make memories and have good experiences and all that touchy feely crap. But still, what better place to get kind of dirty than a zoo? I mean, you're outdoors, it smells already, why not really get into the spirit of things? Here's a video of my kids being their normal 3 and 6 year old selves, while other parents try in desperation to move their children past as quickly as possible. (Sorry that it's sideways, just one of those weird cell phone to PC bugs.)
Lesson 6: Buddhist monks might just have digital cameras.
It boggled my mind a bit, but there they were, at the dolphin show. Four young men in full Buddhist monk robes, shaved heads, each with a digital camera capturing the action of the show. I moved in to sit next to them, as there was a like some sort of force field around them, and all the seats in all the rows around them were vacant, despite the place being pretty crowded. Apparently it's an unusual site in Indiana, with or without digital cameras.
Lesson 7: Never underestimate the power of a really cute little boy who really wants a really cute stuffed bat. Really.
It's widely known that I'm a sucker. And I really wanted to get that cute little boy that cute little bat. I really did. But I held my own, and walked out of the gift shop without spending any money. Whew. That was close. We loaded up the wagon, got in the car, and then...went back into the zoo for that silly little stuffed bat, that he'd already named, and was positively downtrodden over. Don't judge. You don't know what those giant hazel eyes do to me.
Lesson 8: My car smells like cat pee after it gets rained in, then is left, sealed up in a hot, humid parking lot for a few hours.
Which might be a slight improvement over the way it usually smells the earliest hot days of the year, which is like sour milk. Seriously, it's been at least 6 or 7 years since that stupid jug of milk leaked in the back of my car. The rain got in, of course, while I was squatting with my non-peeing toddler during the brief monsoon. I had left the door open thinking this would be a quick affair, and the door added extra privacy. If anyone is looking for a gift for me, I could really go for a deep-clean, professional detailing of my car. P.U!
Lesson 9: Always trust your intuition about your kids.
Finally on our way home. About to jump on 65 North. "Mommy, I need to go pee pee again." Noteworthy, we went to the bathroom (again) just before leaving the zoo (the first time). Sigh. Again.
Raina made it home to pee with no additional stops and no "car-peeing" tragedy. But as I'd suspected earlier in the day, the 5 million trips to the potty were really just cover for the fact that she needed to do a little more than pee, if you get my meaning, and couldn't perform such a task anywhere but the comfort of her own potty, in her own house. I totally get that, and can relate.
