Skipping Town

Today was a big day in our household. First, it was a big day for Lucia: the first time we’ve left her with a babysitter for a long period of time. We had to go out to NJ today for our home inspection, definitely not something a toddler could sit peaceably through, so I found a sitter for her. I was extremely nervous about this event. I had the sitter come for two hours yesterday, so Lucia could get familiar with her. I typed out tons of instructions. Early in the week I ordered a DVD of Olivia episodes to make sure Lucia could watch her show as usual without the sitter having to figure out our ridiculously complicated on-demand cable thing. I showed the sitter where everything was both yesterday and today. I emphasized, many times, the importance of keeping track of Bibi and paw-paw, so much so that before I left today she looked around a bit nervously to make sure she knew where they were. We were leaving Lucia for six hours. (We took Greta with us.) To my surprise, Lucia was fine. S...

Today Lucia, Greta, and I went out to lunch with a friend and her daughter. I was anxious about the plan—even though I’d proposed it, since I had a Groupon that was expiring tomorrow, and going out in the evening for dinner just isn’t realistic, what with Greta’s witching hour. Going to the playground by myself with both girls is pretty much the extent of our public excursions, so a restaurant was kind of a big step. We went early and sat in a booth, and the toddlers were content with the basket of tortilla chips the waiter brought over. No one else was in the restaurant. We ordered our meals, and some rice and beans for the little ones. Greta fell asleep in the stroller. Lucia stood happily in the booth eating chips. Though she refused it at first, eventually she even ate some rice and beans. I was feeling proud, confident, powerful—out in the world! with two babies! having lunch with a friend in a restaurant, having a conversation!—when, out of the corner of my eye, I suddenly saw Lu...

***This is the first of a new series of posts that will highlight parenting firsts in the Littell household. Of course, there is the possibility that this post will be the only one in the series. But onward regardless.*** Last night, I went to the basement to get our laundry—a load of whites—out of the washer. When I opened the lid, I was horrified to see that the entire load of clothes was mixed with a snowdrift of gelatinous slime reminiscent of an exotic breed of translucent fish eggs. The slime was all over and in the clothes; it lay in piles at the bottom of the washer like an overabundance of priceless caviar. It dissolved when I touched it, leaving no soapy or slimy residue, and it fell free from the clothes when I shook them. Nearly gagging, I threw the clothes in the washer, having no other recourse: we were out of quarters, it was 10pm—and Lucia’s blankie (pulled from her sleeping arms under cover of darkness) was in this hideous load. We had to just see it through. When the ...