So, I am coming to realize that of all the amazing children's events this city has to offer, there are just a few that are not meant for the Mays in this phase of our lives. For example, Symphony Square Art Park. I love EVERYTHING about the idea of this event. I mean, instrument petting zoo? Teddy Bear Picnic? Children Musicians? All this and more for fifty cents. Now... that is money well spent. In theory.
I really did all that I could to hype myself up for this event. After working until almost 2 in the morning, my hype came in the form of two beautiful cups of coffee. Downtown parking can always be hit or miss. I scored a meter parking spot and opened my wallet to actually find quarters. You have no idea what kind of miracle this is. A certain sticky fingers informed me a couple weeks ago that the household piggy banks were hungry and in recent weeks have been on a quarter binge save today. Lucky me. Cruising down the mountain that is
11th street, wind in my hair and tots at my side... life was good...
for a few moments
Unfortunately, in an amphitheater which seats around 350 we just might have been 351-354. We were packed, standing on a concrete island in 100 degree weather sans stroller. Life suddenly went from good to sticky. Post performance we herded like cattle to an art tent where the lines for face painting filled up in a matter of seconds. Seriously, where did all these people come from? Can you guess whose child really really wanted her face painted? Off to plan B where they promptly ran out of art upon our arrival. So, as the sweat rolls down the middle of my back, I turn away from a pouting Molly just in time to see Gabriel eat a piece of gum off the ground. Cue the credits, because we were OUT OF THERE.
Funny thing about mountains.
I really think that if you sub out that car for a stroller than this is just about dead on. Oh, and add a Gabey that kept trying to pants me. It was okay though. I was so hot that I sort of welcomed the nudity.
About halfway up Mount
11th Street, we hit breaking point. Literally.
It was all angry curls and intense jazz hands because world, she was upset. Of course, her brother's response to her loss was to celebrate the survivor. That really helped things.
As Lucy looks up at me all "Frick Mom, it's hot in here...", I start to giggle.
By the time that Gabey is peeing on the meter at the car, I am laughing through tears. Crazy person kind of laughter because really, at that point, what else is there to do? It was us on our worst city date yet. And that was something to celebrate. Or at least tolerate.
We made it home, stripped down, got cool, dragged out the art box and made the best of it. Because that's what we do.
It was our best worst part of the day.
I'll take it.