First Museum Trip

Another nice day in San Francisco. The weather has been gorgeous—blue skies, lots of sun, just cool enough for a coat. Perfect weather for sitting outside in Union Square and strolling around the city blocks. This morning I walked with Lucia to an outdoor café right on the square and had a pastry; then we returned to the hotel for a wonderful two-hour nap (Lucia) and some reading (me). Andrew had a break for lunch, so we got bagel sandwiches at a deli and ate them outside on the square. After a quick return to the hotel so Lucia could have her own lunch (nursing in public just does not work with this little one—she gets way too distracted, even with my nursing cover; she winds up twisting it around in her fists, trying to eat it, entangling both of us), she and I took a walk to the Container Store, where, as usual, I bought a few small plastic boxes. You can never have too many!

Lucia fell asleep while we were walking around, right on schedule for her afternoon nap—but sudden city noises kept waking her up. I found myself growing irritated that everything was so loud—then had to laugh at myself for such a protective mama’s thought. I tried to settle her in for a nap back at the hotel, but she would have none of that. She wanted to be back out in the world.

After a coffee with a friend, I took Lucia on her first trip to a museum—the SF MoMA—to take advantage of Thursday-night half-price admission. This was pushing it, since the reduced admission didn’t start until 6pm; but as we walked around and browsed in the museum shop for a half hour or so before we bought our ticket, she fell asleep—so she was cheerful when I put her into the Bjorn. Ordinarily I like to spend hours in a museum; but this time I targeted just one photography exhibition and breezed through at a fairly rapid pace (but not so quickly that I didn’t discover a few great new photographers), well aware that we were well within the witching hour and that I was living on borrowed time as far as Fusskins was concerned. But Lucia was happy as could be, letting out occasional raptor cries when she saw a photograph she liked. (This baby knows good art.)

My goal was half an hour—I didn’t want to push it—and so by six thirty we were on our way back home. I made a quick stop for some pad Thai to go, though by this point Lucia was getting a bit fidgety and I feared I’d made One Stop Too Many, then booked it home.

Once I got Lucia to sleep, I ate my dinner in the light of my laptop screen.

It’s been a busy, fun, tiring, exhilarating, sore-muscle-making, interesting, proud-of-my-city-baby, good-nursing day. This is a great city. Lucia knows it, too. Fusskins hasn’t made even one appearance; she hasn’t nursed this well since she was a newborn; last night she slept seven hours straight; and she couldn’t be more pleasant to walk around the city with. Obviously I prefer when Andrew’s around—but when it has to be just the two of us, Lucia and I make a good team.