When I was expecting my first child, I read the whole bookshelf of parenting preparedness manuals, from Penelope Leach, William Sears, Dr. Spock to the “What to Expect When you Are Expecting” series. Ten years later, I realize that I never really found it that scary to decide when to introduce rice cereal or how to clean an infant’s belly button. What would have been vastly more helpful, I now believe, is how to cope with the unexpected challenges.
Last night for instance. I was alone at the Washington Square Embassy Suites with my daughter. After a day of hanging out with friends and going to Chris R's 40th birthday party, I finally had Samantha tucked in, and had fallen asleep myself. We were awoken at around 10:45 p.m. by loud fire alarms followed by a booming announcement broadcast into the hotel suites telling us to evacuate the hotel because there was a fire. I was wearing a hot pink nightgown held up by spaghetti straps. (Read: Not emergency evacuation wear).
I threw on tshirt and a skirt over my night gown and grabbed all I could think of in 10 seconds, (daughter, purse, cell phone and daughter's baby doll because god help us if Baby Bone ever burns up in a hotel fire). I then made my way from the 7th floor to the lobby carrying my very large, heavy and sleepy little girl. By the time we got downstairs Samantha was so freaked out by the alarms and announcements she had made herself sick and had to hurl in the pretty rock garden out front of the lobby. Trying to calm her down, I was speaking random nonsense, like "Look honey! A fire truck! We know a fireman that works for TVFD, maybe Al is here!" and my favorite, "I know you are freezing but isn't this an exciting adventure to share with your brother?" while at the same time trying to reassure her it was ok, as she wiped the throw up out of her nose using my shirt.
The fire was not a big deal, as it turned out. Something involving a microwave on the 5th floor. As the fire truck pulled away and we made our way back into the lobby to return to our room, the hotel ceiling opened up and these enormous fans reminiscent of airline engines turned the Embassy into a wind tunnel to clear the smoke. The scary evacuation voice came back over the loud speakers and we were sent back to the hotel exit.
It would have been a really interesting evening if I had been dressed when it started and not so worried about trying to keep Samantha from getting sick again. (I failed at this. It was not until she had thrown up two more times and been cuddled extensively did she calm down for the night).
Chuck and Charlie had been in Eugene watching the Ducks get destroyed by USC. They showed up just as we were finally able to return to our rooms. As I was tucking Charlie in next to his sister he looked up and asked me, "Why mom, when we were waiting to leave Autzen stadium in line, did that woman hang out her car window and take her shirt off?"
And this was just what came up yesterday.
Lessons learned for the day when I write a parenting book:
Last night for instance. I was alone at the Washington Square Embassy Suites with my daughter. After a day of hanging out with friends and going to Chris R's 40th birthday party, I finally had Samantha tucked in, and had fallen asleep myself. We were awoken at around 10:45 p.m. by loud fire alarms followed by a booming announcement broadcast into the hotel suites telling us to evacuate the hotel because there was a fire. I was wearing a hot pink nightgown held up by spaghetti straps. (Read: Not emergency evacuation wear).
I threw on tshirt and a skirt over my night gown and grabbed all I could think of in 10 seconds, (daughter, purse, cell phone and daughter's baby doll because god help us if Baby Bone ever burns up in a hotel fire). I then made my way from the 7th floor to the lobby carrying my very large, heavy and sleepy little girl. By the time we got downstairs Samantha was so freaked out by the alarms and announcements she had made herself sick and had to hurl in the pretty rock garden out front of the lobby. Trying to calm her down, I was speaking random nonsense, like "Look honey! A fire truck! We know a fireman that works for TVFD, maybe Al is here!" and my favorite, "I know you are freezing but isn't this an exciting adventure to share with your brother?" while at the same time trying to reassure her it was ok, as she wiped the throw up out of her nose using my shirt.
The fire was not a big deal, as it turned out. Something involving a microwave on the 5th floor. As the fire truck pulled away and we made our way back into the lobby to return to our room, the hotel ceiling opened up and these enormous fans reminiscent of airline engines turned the Embassy into a wind tunnel to clear the smoke. The scary evacuation voice came back over the loud speakers and we were sent back to the hotel exit.
It would have been a really interesting evening if I had been dressed when it started and not so worried about trying to keep Samantha from getting sick again. (I failed at this. It was not until she had thrown up two more times and been cuddled extensively did she calm down for the night).
Chuck and Charlie had been in Eugene watching the Ducks get destroyed by USC. They showed up just as we were finally able to return to our rooms. As I was tucking Charlie in next to his sister he looked up and asked me, "Why mom, when we were waiting to leave Autzen stadium in line, did that woman hang out her car window and take her shirt off?"
And this was just what came up yesterday.
Lessons learned for the day when I write a parenting book:
- Nothing can prepare you for the strength and determination you can summon when you think your children are threatened.
- Unless the situation REALLY calls for it, skip the sexy jammies. Boxers and a tank top may serve you better in case of an emergency evacuation.
- If you have to, you can deal with kid barf. It's gross - but usually occurs only in the midst of something else you're much more worried about than being grossed out.
- I don't know how to prepare you for the flasher tart. My response to Charlie was, "Oh, I do that all the time too." Although he paused for a second when I responded, it only took a few seconds for him to giggle and proclaim "No you don't!"
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