Tuesday, July 29, 2008

Adventures in Mommysitting

It's hot, and I'm crabby. I just want one nice day to open all the windows and get some fresh air in the damn house, but no. It's been disgusting and disgusting some more for about 2 weeks now. I know it's not "Houston Hot" (husbands 2nd home) but damn it, it's hot and humid and disgusting!

I tried to beat the grossness by taking B-Lo out on Monday anyway. I woke up in a great mood and thought,"I don't care if it's downright stifling today. My boy and I are going someplace fun." The beach? Too humid. The Playground? Too crowded. The library? Too boring. The zoo? Perfect! And we were on our merry way.

Ten minutes from home and flying up the parkway, I'm searching my bag for the directions which I soon realize are conveniently laying on the kitchen counter, at home. Never fear! There are signs galore for idiots like me, surely we'll find our way, right? *buzzer sound* Wrong! There is one sign that screams which exit to take and after that, well, you're on your own my friend.

30 minutes and many obscenities later, I'm knee deep in the heart of B***geport, which for those of you who aren't familiar with this specific area, let me just politely say this. It's not the kind of place that you want to stop and ask for directions with your 13 month old child in the backseat, looking ever so cute and totally snatchable. Every street I turn down seems worse than the one before, which I didn't think was honestly possible. I may be exaggerating here, but I'm convinced that that we were swimming through a sea of ex-cons and serial murderers for roughly 20 minutes, and I was honestly wishing that I was an awful mother who preferred not to take her son to the zoo that day, and instead opted to sit him in front of the TV for several hours while I clean. But no, here I was, trying to find the zoo. The reality that we might vanish into thin air set in somewhere between the slums and the even worse slums right about the time that *ta-dah* I see a glimmering sign with a descriptive arrow that read "F**rfield." Thank the almighty Lord for giving an idiot who forgot the directions such a break. "It's okay Brendan, we're going to be just fine, Mommy found our way...." as he's checking out the lovely homeless guy approaching the car with a cute cup for change. Nice!

We peeled out and headed for home. F**rfield never looked so damn good to me. We stopped at the very crowded playground, hit the diner for lunch, and then took a long afternoon nap together. Just another summer day with clueless Mommy in charge.

I have to say that our travels weren't such a waste though. I did discover a few hoppin' bars that actually open at 9 a.m., incase I'm ever in need of a drink that early.

Tomorrow is lookin' good. We're headed downtown for an outdoor concert where Brendan can get his groove on. He can really shake a diaper.

2 comments:

John said...

Hoppin' bars at 9:00 a.m. That could actually work for me. I could get in a whole drunkfest experience before my bedtime.

Tracey said...

Ugh. I have been lost with the kids in a bad section a couple of times. Once, when my first was an infant and my friend's son was 2, we got lost going to the Museum of Science and Industry in Chicago. Needless to say, the Science museum is on the cusp of the not so nice area... which we got to explore WAY more than we ever wanted to!!