We’ve already established that once you have kids your photo stream looks much different, your weekends are more tiring than ever, and every car ride is an unpredictable adventure. But even something as simple as leaving the house, becomes exponentially more complicated with a child.*
Isabel has started dancing non-stop. She dances to pop hits, clapping, nursery rhyme instrumentals, and the music in her head. Pandora is basically like a fourth member of our household (sixth if you count the cats).
How? How? How? HOW?
Kids are amazing. They surprise you at every turn with new skills, developing language (I *think* we heard “pease” tonight, but I can’t be sure), and an uncanny ability to find (and hide) things.
At my daughter’s age, she is unable to communicate or understand enough for us to really get frustrated with her. I am guilty of getting impatient at times, but sometimes it’s really hard. I mean, life with a young toddler often feels like a constant game of Charades. Further complicating this game, is that they essentially make the rules, since they can do or “say” virtually anything, and get away with things that adults only dream about, like…
Some kids know exactly what they want to be when they grow up; I was not one of them. I had aspirations of athletic stardom like hitting the winning home run in Game 7 of the World Series or scoring the winning goal of the World Cup. In theory, neither was totally impossible, but if I am being honest, I didn’t have the talent or dedication to achieve either.
My kid is barely a year and a half and she is already obsessed with technology.
Now, before you start judging our parenting, know that we do not use technology to babysit Isabel. She gets at most 30 minutes of TV while we try to eat breakfast and not spill our coffee on the weekend. She talks to her grandparents via Facetime, but really only cares about their dog flashing across the screen. And occasionally, when all the tricks to distract and console her fail, and we are on the verge of a cartastrophe, we resort to showing her pictures of herself – she’s so vain.
Los Angeles is a car city. Public transportation is getting better, and there is always buzz about expansion, but it’s impossible to traverse the city easily without a car. I’ve ridden the train for nearly two-and-a-half years to work, and Isa has ridden the train once, but most Angelenos consistently brave the concrete web of freeways.
I am a big fan of the freeway, mainly because I drive faster than I should, and it’s almost always quicker than the streets (even if some trips are a few miles longer). I also don’t have patience for slow drivers. Or bad drivers. And yes, “bad” is subjectively defined as anyone that annoys me on the road (unless Mrs. FWL is with me, in which case I am sometimes the bad driver). But having kids changes things.