Have you ever taken a bus into New York City’s Port Authority? You start your ride in some calm New Jersey suburb, and gradually make your way into one of the most exotic, exhilarating and overwhelming cities in the world. The time in the bus is generally quiet, you close your eyes, and then you arrive. The inside of Port Authority is like a mall, overly shiny full of crap you don’t need, but subdued. Then you exit the building and you are swept into the concrete valleys that are the streets of Manhattan. The wind snaps your jacket around your legs, you walk a little faster, you clutch you bag a little tigher, your hearts races a little; it’s great! That is what it is like to walk down the jetway into the Philadelphia airport. It was like being squeezed from the womb into the blinding lights, noise and colors of a foreign world. The hallways leading from gate to gate are lined with credit card salesmen, food stands, jewelry stands, and books stands, and I could hear customers bargaining and arguing as I strode by. Of course there is also the hot pretzel stand, selling traditional Philly Pretzels, 3 for $3. This is the first place I go whenever I fly into Philadelphia. It is something I thoroughly look forward to. In fact, I have flown into Philly in the past to my own inconvenience just so I could get my pretzels.
The walk to the baggage claim is a little long, and I always have to wait a long time for my luggage to show up, so those are my two complaints about PHL. Overall it is an older airport that seems to run well, is full of stuff, and is pretty easy to navigate.
Leaving Philadelphia to go to Florida was less of an enjoyable experience. Terminal A was over heated, dirty and old. But the pretzels were soft and salty and the people were nice.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Looks Just Like Me
This morning Piper ran screaming into our room.
"Ellie, Bronwen just made a face and she looked just like you! It was crazy."
I guess that happens when you have kids, the screaming I mean. But today I was so desperately bored that I actually googled my name. I am not sure I've actually done that before. Anyway, I came across this.
She looks just like me!
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Bathroom Etiquette
Choosing the appropriate bathroom stall is a complex process, filled with rules, addendums, and criteria that must be sorted through, agreed upon and followed to ensure a satisfactory bathroom experience for all. When my rules (which, naturally, I assume everyone knows and agrees to) are disregarded, I just can’t seem to get over it. What is up with everyone’s poor bathroom etiquette? Am I the only one who knows that you should never take the stall directly next to one already in use, unless it is an absolute emergency? So, I want to know from you out there, when choosing a bathroom stall, or urinal, what considerations do you take into account before you can have a comfortable bathroom experience. Or am I just crazy?
Brownen Goes to Eleven
Bronwen likes to count. She likes to count toys, books, peas on her plate. She likes to count while I drive her to and from school. And she likes to count while cuddling on the couch. She can count to 11. But she does have a little problem when it comes to counting. She gets stuck in a loop and doesn’t know how to stop.
Listening to a little kid count is positively charming. Probably because it is amazing that kids learn numbers so early, but also because, for a kid, counting is a deliberate and enthusiastic event. When Bronwen counts she sounds out each number, her tone rising as the number increases. “Won-na! Two-a! Tha-reeee! Fo-wer! Fi-va! etc” Lots of kids make it to “Ten-a!” and stop there. Bronwen goes to eleven.
“Ten-a! Eleven! Eight-a! Nine! Ten-a! Eleven! Eight-a! Nine! Ten-a!....” She gets stuck in a loop (8, 9, 10, 11) and just keeps going.
Dan and I first discovered “Bronwen’s loop” this past weekend. Piper and Bronwen were playing hide and seek upstairs. Piper, as usual, was bossing her little sister around, making her count, while she hid. 1, 2, 3…11, 8, 9, 10, 11, 8, 9… It went on for awhile, her voice rising until finally she stopped the loop at a random “Nine-a!” It was hilarious.
Dan thinks that she says “eleven” and thinks “seven” which is why she keeps going back to eight. That makes sense to me. Nonetheless, I have been encouraging her to count to twelve to see if it will break the cycle. I will let you know what happens.
Listening to a little kid count is positively charming. Probably because it is amazing that kids learn numbers so early, but also because, for a kid, counting is a deliberate and enthusiastic event. When Bronwen counts she sounds out each number, her tone rising as the number increases. “Won-na! Two-a! Tha-reeee! Fo-wer! Fi-va! etc” Lots of kids make it to “Ten-a!” and stop there. Bronwen goes to eleven.
“Ten-a! Eleven! Eight-a! Nine! Ten-a! Eleven! Eight-a! Nine! Ten-a!....” She gets stuck in a loop (8, 9, 10, 11) and just keeps going.
Dan and I first discovered “Bronwen’s loop” this past weekend. Piper and Bronwen were playing hide and seek upstairs. Piper, as usual, was bossing her little sister around, making her count, while she hid. 1, 2, 3…11, 8, 9, 10, 11, 8, 9… It went on for awhile, her voice rising until finally she stopped the loop at a random “Nine-a!” It was hilarious.
Dan thinks that she says “eleven” and thinks “seven” which is why she keeps going back to eight. That makes sense to me. Nonetheless, I have been encouraging her to count to twelve to see if it will break the cycle. I will let you know what happens.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
I'm Talking Mommy
Not only has Bronwen started talking, she has come to a realization that she is speaking well. Last night the two of us were having a full on conversation. She was telling me how she hit a school mate in the face and I was explaining to her the downfalls of hitting. She was asking me questions and I was answering, and I was asking her questions and she was repeating them. She kept telling me, “I’m talking mommy.” All in all it was a pretty good conversation.
Isn’t it amazing to think the Dan and I contain all of the genetic information needed to create another human? Our combined cells created a human that not only has learned to use language to express herself, but remembers that there was a time when she couldn’t speak and realizes that she has learned how. That is amazing to me. I can’t imagine what it will be like when she starts playing an instrument, or writing and reading, or someday driving? Does it get less amazing as they grow?
Isn’t it amazing to think the Dan and I contain all of the genetic information needed to create another human? Our combined cells created a human that not only has learned to use language to express herself, but remembers that there was a time when she couldn’t speak and realizes that she has learned how. That is amazing to me. I can’t imagine what it will be like when she starts playing an instrument, or writing and reading, or someday driving? Does it get less amazing as they grow?
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Monday, March 9, 2009
B at the Super G
I know this makes the fourth blog entry in a row about little Bronwen, but I can’t help it. She is so freakin cute, and continues to do things that amazing and delight me. Kids...
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Bronwen Strikes Again
One of the best things about your children growing up is the time you get back to yourself. When you have a small human crawling around your house finding every death inducing hole, poison, and heavy object you don’t have much down time, unless you can convince her that staying trapped in a pen is really fun. As you might image, Bronwen was never much interested in that.
Now that she is a little older, and we’ve learned what needs to be plugged up, hidden, or moved we have a little more time to ourselves to read, nap, whatever.
This has led to some funny and irritating messes, cat food on the couch, markers on the wall, random objects moved around the house. But lack of supervision last Sunday afternoon has led to my favorite crazy Bronwen event so far.
Imagine the scene. I tiptoed quietly into the livingroom to find Dan and Bronwen cuddling on the couch. Dan was napping and Bronwen was playing with a toy. I whispered across the room, “Hey Bronwen.” She turned to look at me and here is what I saw.
Now that she is a little older, and we’ve learned what needs to be plugged up, hidden, or moved we have a little more time to ourselves to read, nap, whatever.
This has led to some funny and irritating messes, cat food on the couch, markers on the wall, random objects moved around the house. But lack of supervision last Sunday afternoon has led to my favorite crazy Bronwen event so far.
Imagine the scene. I tiptoed quietly into the livingroom to find Dan and Bronwen cuddling on the couch. Dan was napping and Bronwen was playing with a toy. I whispered across the room, “Hey Bronwen.” She turned to look at me and here is what I saw.
Dramatic Representation
“Bronwen! What is on your face?”
She didn’t answer. I grabbed her and took a closer look and realized it was mascara. Waterproof mascara.
Somewhere in the midst of the face scrubbing, and was wiggling and fussing, and my trying to figure out how the heck she got the tube I just starting laughing. This child is going to keep us on our toes. And everyone is going to be wondering about those black eyebrows at daycare on Monday.
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