Warning: Family Outings May Be Hazardous

I’ve got some advice for you: next time you think about taking your kids somewhere, don’t. Trust me when I say it will only end in disaster.

Case in point: earlier this week, the boys and I joined a friend and her 3 kids on a visit to the science center. This involved packing up 5 kids ages 16 mos.-5 years in one minivan and driving downtown. Just installing the car seats was a major feat.

Unfurling the strollers, crossing busy intersections, and gaining admission were no small tasks, either, but things started off fairly smoothly. We got there right when it opened so it wasn’t crowded. The kids eagerly ran around exploring all the cool exhibits.

Then, 45 min. later, things started to go downhill. First, I ran out of snacks. I naively thought that since the baby had eaten breakfast right before we left, a bag of popcorn, some Goldfish, and a granola bar would last till lunch. Wrong. He plowed through all that and was still whining for more.

Then he started to protest being confined to the stroller. Against my better judgment I let him out, whereupon he promptly climbed up on a dinosaur display that was clearly labeled “Do not even THINK of climbing on this.” A chase ensued, followed by a heated struggle to get him back in the stroller. A passerby laughed. Glad I can provide entertainment for you, lady.

Then my friend’s 2 y.o. broke out in a rash all over his face and arms. A freak allergic reaction to the sand in the fossil-finding area? Or maybe the vapor used in the tornado exhibit? Who knows. We decided to high-tail it out of there, anyway. But first we had to feed the troops or risk mutiny.

When I tell you we caused a spectacle in the cafeteria, I am not being dramatic. The 2 babies were crying and kicking in their highchairs, another kid was lying on the filthy floor, and another was sprinting his way toward the exit. Meanwhile, all around us, groups of Stepford children were sitting with their parents, calmly and quietly eating their lunch. What the heck’s wrong with OUR kids?!

When we finally made it home, we were so traumatized we didn’t leave the house again for days. Until I decided to take everybody to the pool.

If only I hadn’t insisted on stopping by the post office first. If only Miles hadn’t worn flip-flips. If only I hadn’t asked him to open the heavy, metal-edged door so I could push the stroller through. Maybe then he wouldn’t have sliced off the top of his toe and launched a medical emergency right there in the middle of the post office.

The place looked like a crime scene by the time I’d quieted my son’s screams and rustled up a band-aid. And no one came to our aid, in case you’re wondering. Except for the nice guy who offered Miles a mailing label as an award for bravery. No pool for us. It was off to the doctor’s instead.

I won’t get into the ice cream outing that ended with a preschooler fistfight. Suffice it to say, we’re staying home and watching TV for the rest of the summer.

TIP O’ THE WEEK: Pick a pediatrician you really, really love. I interviewed 3 before my first baby was born. If you’ve got kids like mine, you may see way more of their doctor than your own spouse.

The Tankini Manifesto

You know what time it is? Time for my annual swimsuit post! So hold on to your cover-ups, ‘cause here we go...

First of all, can I just tell you how THRILLED I am that we do not live in Miami or LA? Because despite all the hoopla about body image and unrealistic standards for women, I do not live in a place where most people look like they just sashayed off the pages of a Victoria’s Secret catalog. THANK GOD. Because battling my own insecurities is plenty without having to compare myself daily to hordes of thonged, bronzed goddesses.

No offense to my fellow pool-goers, of course, but I am very happy that most people I encounter on a daily basis look like normal people. Except for that one lady in the bikini with the tan and that stomach – holy moly, I’ve never seen a six-pack on a mom before outside of the Olympics! But I digress.

At our pool, you see all kinds. All ages, shapes, and sizes. You see everything from teenage babysitters in itsy-bitsy bikinis and belly rings to women who opt not to shave and wear swim dresses down to their knees. Seriously. I found myself wondering if that woman was Amish. But anyway...

Everyone knows I’m a bit of an O magazine junkie, but I almost choked on my chardonnay when I opened the June issue to see creative director Adam Glassman’s “10 Swimsuit Commandments.” #1 is Thou shalt not buy a tankini. Say WHAT?! Listen here, Adam. The tankini is my saving grace. It’s a GODSEND. And I know 90% of the women at my pool agree with me. That sexy maillot you’re pushing? Is a nightmare when you’re trying to go the bathroom with 2 kids in tow.

But wait – it gets worse. #5 is Thou shalt not hide under a skirted suit and #6: “Boy shorts are unkind even if you have toothpicks for legs.” I FINALLY embraced the swim skirt (remember that?) and bought a cute pair of swim shorts that I don’t constantly have to pick out of my butt every time I bend over to pick up my toddler and now you’re telling me those are DON’TS?!

I beg to differ, Adam. You try taking a couple of small kids to the pool. You try schlepping a carload of crap and changing 2 wiggly little people into swim diapers and board shorts and swim shirts and then greasing them up from head to toe with SPF 50. You try bending over to fish the preschooler’s goggles out of the pool and catch the toddler before he takes a header into the deep end. A toddler who, I might add, is constantly clutching and pulling on your bathing suit, risking a Janet Jackson moment at every turn.

And then you might realize that some of us dress for action at the pool, not fashion. And anyway, I’m pretty happy with my tankinis, so there.

LAUGH O’ THE WEEK: I may be the only person ever who’s gotten a bathing suit tailored. I bought a suit that came with, yes, boy shorts, and then decided they were too risqué so I got the leg holes sewn up a little. That actually seemed easier and more preferable to spending more time bathing suit shopping!

READ O’ THE WEEK: I was browsing through my archives and found that last summer wasn’t that relaxing either. Shocker.

It's Only Money

My uncle said the best thing the other week when we were on vacation. Everyone was debating whether or not to do this activity or that activity, since some of them were kind of pricey. (And by everyone, I mean those without small children who weren’t chained to the house due to naps and feeding schedules.) Finally he said, “OK, let’s do it. It’s only money.”

It may come as a surprise that this phrase resonated with me, given that I am usually Miss Frugal Pennypincher. (Sounds nicer than Miss Thrifty McCheapskate, doesn’t it?) But I realized that sometimes in my concern about money, I overlook the value of an experience.

Here’s an example: We didn’t join a pool this year. We had a second kid, and I couldn’t fathom how I could manage two by myself at the pool. But mostly, I didn’t want to spend the money and then feel guilty about not going. What I forgot about, though, is just how much Miles loves the water. I mean, the kid is a fish. He loves, loves, LOVES being in the water. It could be the ocean, lake, pool, or a puddle on the sidewalk. He doesn’t care, as long as he’s wet.

At the lake one day on our vacation it was pretty breezy and not very hot out. Miles’ lips were blue and his teeth were chattering so much he could barely say: “N-n-no, Mom, I don’t want to get out! I’m not c-c-cold!!” OK, buddy, if you say so.

We’ve been lucky this summer because we have several friends who’ve been very generous about inviting us to their pools. So Miles has gotten his swimming fix. Yes, it’s a hassle putting sunscreen on everybody and packing all the towels, clothes, toys, floaties, snacks, etc. we need. And I wouldn’t say it’s a piece of cake nursing a wiggly baby under a towel on a lounge chair or wrestling a 3-y.o. in and out of a wet bathing suit so he can use the bathroom every 10 min. (That’s what happens when you drink the pool water. But, hey, at least he’s not peeing in the pool!)

But the kids love it. Even Riley, who screeched like a cat in heat the first time I dipped his tiny toes into the pool. (But really, when does he NOT?) The next couple times, though, I realized he was shrieking with glee. He LIKED the water! I like the pool, too. I’ve even embraced the swim skirt. It sure beats staying cooped up in the air conditioning watching TV all day, or -- God forbid -- braving the scorching desert that is the playground in August.

Money can’t buy happiness, but it CAN buy some summer fun and save a little bit of Mom’s sanity when school’s out. So next year, I’ll grit my teeth, write a check for the pool membership fee, and tell myself, “It’s only money.”

TIP O’ THE WEEK: Landsend.com is having a clearance sale with up to 65% summer stuff, including kids’ UPF swim shirts and cover-ups.

Vacation Trepidation

We’re gearing up for our first vacation as a family of 4. Though, as a wise but jaded friend of mine once put it, “Once you have kids it’s not a vacation. It’s just travel.” It’s true, vacation generally brings to mind sleep, relaxation, and fruity umbrella drinks. If we’re lucky, we might get the drinks. But even those will be limited for me since I’m breastfeeding. Tequila shots and nursing bras just don’t go together, you know?

We’re renting a big house on a lake with my extended family. There will be 16 of us – including a 3-year-old, a 2-year-old, and a 5-month-old. My poor relatives don’t know what they’re in for. Especially the single ones. I fear for my cousin and his girlfriend, especially. If they’re even considering marriage and parenthood, I don’t want to be the one to scare them off for good. But I can’t promise anything.

My mother has assured me that there will be plenty of volunteers to help with the kids. But what these well-meaning folks probably don’t realize is that their help may be needed pre-dawn, before COFFEE, even. They may be called upon for potty assistance, they may have to break up squabbles over Play-Doh, they may encounter poop where they never imagined poop could be found (on the baby’s SHOULDER?!). It’s not all butterfly kisses and bedtime stories, people. You’ve gotta be prepared to get your hands dirty.

Nobody better THINK they’re going to ease into the day with a cup of hot coffee and NPR. (I’m talking to you, Dad.) No, sir. Expect to hit the ground running with Dora or Blue’s Clues blaring in the background. Your coffee will go stone cold as you scramble to accommodate the needs of 3 exceptionally vocal short people. This one wants a waffle, that one wants toast, and that one wants to chew on the newspaper. But no, you cut her toast wrong! And he wanted CREAM CHEESE, not butter!! And watch out, the baby’s about to knock over your juice! Relaxed yet?

Then it’s time for a full day of recreational activities: Whitewater rafting! Jet-skis! Biking! Hiking! Right? Wrong! Too dangerous, too strenuous, too hot, too cold, or simply incompatible with the kids’ nap schedules. Sorry! Splashing in the backyard wading pool is about as adventurous as it gets with little ones.

In the evening, everyone might be looking forward to a leisurely happy hour, a late dinner, and some good conversation around the campfire. Wrong again! The kids have to be fed, bathed, and put to bed in a timely fashion unless we want a group meltdown. And since we’re in a strange place, none of them will go down easily. And when they’re FINALLY quiet, everyone else better damn well be, too. Pity the boisterous drunkard who raises their voice and wakes the baby! EVERYONE will suffer for their carelessness!

Oh, yeah, this’ll be a fun vacation. How can it NOT be? Just seeing the look on my mom’s face when I hand her the baby at 5:30 a.m. will be enjoyment enough for me. Maybe I’ll even make my cousin change a dirty diaper by himself.

LINK O’ THE WEEK: Know how to make a Bahama Mama Sunrise? How about a Slammin’ Sammy? Find 700+ cocktail recipes here.