kids in town

"Leslie, we’re coming to visit you in Frisco!" proclaimed my brother, Chris, who lives in Connecticut and forgot the three hour time difference and awakened me Sunday morning around 7:00 AM. "And we’re bringing the kids too!"

"Uh, great! That’s great…" I said a bit dazed from being jolted out of my needed sleep to stave off the hangover that was awaiting me from last night’s drinking. After a few more minutes of vague conversation my brother hung up and my mind began reel.

Now, I love my brother and am a most adoring aunt to my one-year-old and three-year-old niece and nephew. I dutifully knit them little sweaters and buy them precious toys from one of the Laurel Street kiddie stores. Sure, I’m looking forward to seeing them, but what on earth was I going to do with them in SF?

I must know someone in the city with kids, I thought. Yowch! I scanned through my mind all my local friends and although I could find lots of people that acted like children, no real kiddies or parents popped to mind. Crap.

Unfortunately, I had to travel to L.A. for the majority of the week they were coming, so I would only get one evening to spend with my brother. That Tuesday, I stopped by their hotel around 6:00 PM straight from work and entered hell.

My brother answered the door wearing baby formula down the front of his polo shirt. Carly, my one year old niece was doing her impersonation of the wailing wall while my three year nephew, Jacob, was running back and forth across the room, knocking items off the bed and desk and singing at the top of his lungs about Winnie the Pooh. I felt my fallopian tubes close.

My brother and his little family had spent the day on the Napa wine train. They said that they got quite a few looks from the other passengers (couples hoping for a romantic getaway, I’m sure) as they loaded the kids into the train (hmm, wonder why?) Jacob spent part of the train ride under the table and accidentally burned his backside against the heater and showed the other passengers his "burn boo-boo" by pulling down his pants and pouting for the remaining three hours of the train ride.

Anyway, it was dinner time and I had chosen Pasta Pomodoro because I know I’d seen strollers come in and out of that joint many times. We all hopped in my brother’s rented minivan, which wasn’t actually a hop, but a long arduous process of getting two squiggly kids into the car seats. Forty minutes later we were in front of Pasta Pomodoro to realize we had a twenty plus minute wait. The place was crammed on a Tuesday night. Determined to take Jacob off my tired brother and sister-in-law’s hand for awhile, I decided that Jacob and I could take a little walk. But Jacob wanted to run. So we spent the next half hour running back and forth in front of the restaurant much to the amusement of the Muni riders and much to the chagrin of my high-heel shoes.

Finally we sat down for dinner and ordered milk for the kids and some much needed wine for the adults.

I don’t really remember the food, but I do recall that five minutes after our meals had arrived at the table, Carly managed to throw her entire dish of noodles on the floor. And Jacob had to go to the bathroom four times during dinner because they are trying to potty-train him and every time he looks a "certain" way, Chris must rush him to the bathroom and pray that they make it in time. Sadly they were all false alarms, but each alarm left my brother’s food a bit colder on his plate.

We returned to the hotel room and after an hour of playing, hugging and kissing the kiddies to my heart’s content, I decided I needed to get back and pack for my trip. I handed over Carly, who by then was asleep on my lap to my brother, who was nearly asleep himself.

As I drove home, I thought of how tired my brother and his wife looked during dinner. The kids really weren’t acting badly, they were just being kids and Chris and Kelly had to pay the price of introducing such young children to the stresses of travel. I’m sure it was a much more educational trip for my brother and sister in-law, who called me when they returned from their trip promising to come out again by themselves and drop the kids off with grandparents.

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ANON

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