Glendale and the LA Zoo

I know what you're thinking, you're thinking this is going to be another post about how awful it is to do anything with four-year-old twin boys. But it's not! We had a pretty nice weekend! I mean, it was very strenuous and taxing, and I'm so glad to be home and all that. But really, all things considered, it went well.

We left at 9:15 Sunday morning and drove to Torrance with only one bathroom/fuel stop in Mojave. Made it there a little after 12, in plenty of time to partake of the delicious lunch before the birthday party entertainment began. The entertainment was exotic animals, which I always enjoy (though the twins didn't pay much attention!).

The animals included this nice chicken

and this beautiful snake, which I also got to hold.

After the party we drove to our hotel, a Vagabond Inn in Glendale -- chosen because it was kind of on the way home and because it was very close to the zoo. Also, according to the website it had a heated pool and was next to a big mall.

Well, it was not a fabulous hotel, but it was OK. The room was fairly spacious and the air conditioner sort of worked. There was a very nice empty space for setting up the pack 'n' plays for the twins (which they still manage to curl themselves up into). I'd say the worst thing about the room was that the TV had no kids' channel -- no PBS Kids, no Nickelodeon, no Sprout -- but of course the kids wanted to watch TV, in their minds that's the whole point of staying in a hotel room, so we kept watching very odd, inappropriate things. The pool was small and practically in the parking lot, not very appealing. Also, though it was heated, it was not very warm. And there was no hot tub. Rocket Boy and Baby A did go in it and enjoyed themselves, so that was good, but I think I'll look for something better next time. Still, overall it was OK.

When we got hungry we walked about a block to a Jamba Juice and got smoothies and some bread things. Then we walked into the mall-ish thing that is right there, "the Americana at Brand," and discovered a "grassy" area on which to sit and eat our "dinner." This was the view from where we sat:

I'm not sure WHAT that grassy stuff was -- it was extremely short, and bits of it got all over our clothes and limbs as we sat on it. Not like any grass I've ever sat on before, but not like astroturf either. I also don't know WHAT that gold statue is supposed to represent. But there were fountains that shot up, and music played, and there were tons of people out enjoying the evening. There was also a nice children's play area, but it had fences around it and a sign saying it was only open until 6 pm (we got there around 6:45). A bunch of kids (including ours) climbed over the fence and played there anyway, until, get this, a SECURITY GUARD came and shooed them all away. I mean, yuck. Why does a playground have to close at 6 and why does a security guard have to chase children off a playground?

I don't know. Rocket Boy liked it, the twins liked it. I was just turned off by the artificiality of the whole place. It was trying SO hard to be European and quaint, but that security guard gave it kind of a Nazi feel, and I don't think that's the type of European they were aiming for. Anyway, despite that, we had a nice time.

The next morning we got up fairly early and had breakfast two doors down at a restaurant called Foxy's, which we liked very much: we got to eat outside on the patio, we were there early enough that we didn't disturb anyone until near the end, and there was oatmeal (I liked that part). Boos shared an order of pigs in blankets, which the waitress was nice enough to divide for us (and gave them 2 each, even though the order was only supposed to have 3 total), Rocket Boy had a veggie omelet, and we shared a bowl of fruit.

Then we packed up in a leisurely fashion and left for the zoo at about 10:15 am (it had opened at 10). The desk clerk at the hotel had warned us to get there early, but we ignored him, and as we joined a long line of cars taking the "Zoo Exit" I realized that we had made a mistake. However, even though we had to stand in an enormous line to get in, the line moved quickly.

The zoo itself is very attractive and I'd really like to go back. That said, we probably didn't do things the way we should have. First of all, we should have rented a big stroller. Boos are very good walkers now, but a stroller would have given them a chance to rest now and then. Second, we should have ridden the carousel as soon as we spotted it, rather than continued to say "We'll do that at the end, when we come back." Baby B so desperately wanted to ride it that he couldn't focus on anything else, just kept asking me when we were going to ride it. My idea was that we would walk to the farthest corner of the zoo where the lemurs are, see them, and then go back to the carousel, but that didn't work. We finally had to turn around (without seeing the lemurs) and go back to the carousel.

Silly boos are still afraid of the carousel animals that go up and down, so we rode on this nice peacock bench. Everyone enjoyed themselves.

Third, we should have taken out a bank loan before going. It cost us $54 to get in, $37 for lunch, $3 each for the carousel... I know, stuff is just expensive these days. At least it wasn't Disneyland!

After the carousel we saw a few more animals, and Baby A provided some excitement by actually climbing into a tortoise pen. Granted, the tortoises inside paid no attention to him, but the whole crowd looking at the tortoises was yelling "Get out! get out!" and of course we were yelling the same thing, and for a moment there I thought he was going to be too scared to be able to respond, but we eventually got him out. Here he is on the outside of the pen, not looking the least bit repentant:

I was glad I got to see the tortoises, because we did not manage to go into the new LAIR exhibit hall, where most of the reptiles are. But that's a reason to go back. After the tortoise incident we all agreed it was time to go, and we ended up driving out of the parking lot at about 2 pm.

Of course, then we had the long drive home, but we broke it up with the usual stop in Palmdale, where we went to Trader Joe's and our usual coffee place for drinks and snacks. Then it was on to Ridgecrest, getting home just before 6 pm. Everyone (except me) took a good long nap between Glendale and Palmdale, and we were all still in a fairly good mood when we got home. It cheered me up, as we were driving on 14 fairly close to the Inyokern turnoff, to see ALL the cars coming back from the mountains and to think how far they still had to drive.

So that's what I call a successful weekend: a family gathering (the birthday party), getting to see something a little different (the Americana at Brand), and a fun, special outing (the zoo) which we all actually enjoyed. Plus, the chance to buy a whole lot of cereal at Trader Joe's (very important, since my favorite cereal costs TWICE as much in Ridgecrest). Still didn't get to use my Macy's gift card, but that can wait. I'm happy.

The Train

OK, I guess I have to write about the train too, just to get beyond it. It seemed like such a nice idea: there's a train called the Metrolink that runs from Lancaster/Palmdale to Los Angeles and parts beyond. Why not take it some weekend? Why not indeed? Oh, there are so many reasons, most of them involving four-year-old twin boys. But anyway, it did sound like a good idea, in the beginning.

So we looked at the schedule and discovered that very few trains run on the weekends. This is a SERIOUS train, a commuter train. There was a train that left Lancaster around 9:15 am (and Palmdale 10 minutes later), but it would take us nearly 90 minutes to drive to the station, which meant leaving the house at 7:45 am, which meant no, try again. There was an 11:30 train, but that's lunchtime.

Finally we decided to drive to Palmdale, do a little shopping, eat lunch, and catch the 1 pm train. Rather than go all the way to LA, which would take 2 hours, we decided to stop at a place called Newhall, about which we knew nothing other than that the train would get there a little after 2 pm. There was a train from Newhall at 3:30 which would get us back to Palmdale at 4:30. All that sounded reasonable and doable, and really, it should have been. Sigh.

We got to Palmdale around 11 am and went straight to Dillard's, because Baby B needed new shoes. His beautiful flashing Stride Rite shoes, only a few months old, have a huge hole in them. What has happened to formerly dependable brands like Stride Rite??? Might as well shop at Walmart. We managed to buy both boys some shoes, with only a small amount of screaming and running away. Then we had a quick quasi-meal at a coffee place, and we were off to the Palmdale train station.

We got there quite early, around 12:30, because we didn't know how hard it would be to park, buy tickets, and all that. Everything turned out to be very easy, so we had a long time to sit and wait.

It costs $10 to ride the Metrolink on the weekends -- all weekend for just $10. If you were dating someone in LA, you could take the train down on Saturday morning to visit them, stay until 5:40 pm on Sunday, and ride the train back, all for just $10. Unfortunately, we're married and have four-year-old twins, so Rocket Boy and I paid $10 each to ride the Saturday afternoon train to Newhall and back. But still, it was a pretty good deal, and the twins were free.

The train ride was pleasant, at least at first. We sat on the upper level. I didn't get a window seat (preview of my life as a mom from now until eternity) so I couldn't see as well as the boos could, but it was still nice. Here's Baby A, observing the scenery.

Of course, as soon as we got on, someone needed to go potty, but the Metrolink has bathrooms! So we visited them a few times. Rocket Boy and I took turns. The rest of the time boos climbed back and forth between our two rows of seats. "Are they twins?" the teenage girl across from us asked, and I could see that look in her eye, that "I want twins" look. I wanted to say "no you don't" but resisted.

We reached Newhall about 2:15 (JUST as Baby A was nodding off, sigh), got off, and looked for something to do. Newhall is a part of Santa Clarita. It's very attractive, I guess. We spotted what we thought was a Rec Center right next to the train, and went there first.

But it turned out to be a place where school-age kids can go after school to get help with homework and participate in activities. There was nothing for us there, not even vending machines, although they did say we could play on their playground. So we did. But it was so hot.

So then we walked the other direction and through the renovated downtown. Newhall is sort of an odd place, and I mean that in the nicest possible way. First we walked down Market Street to a little park dedicated to veterans. Then we walked down Main Street looking for an ice cream parlor or some such place to have a treat. Main Street just couldn't be prettier or cleaner -- someone spent a lot of money fixing it up and even more money maintaining it. And yet the stores weren't right. You'd be expecting, I don't know, a fancy clothing store, or an espresso place, and instead here's a laundromat, a place to buy lotto tickets, a dollar store. And everything was mostly in Spanish. And it was so hot. We finally found a Panaderia and bought some cupcakes and drinks, which we took back to the train station with us.

The train arrived around 3:30 and we boarded. We sat downstairs this time, within sight of the bathroom, and what a mistake that was. Baby B spent the entire hour-long return trip wanting to visit the bathroom. When someone else was in the bathroom, he yelled or ran up and down the car. Baby A was not much better. They were tired, they were bored, they didn't want to be on a train anymore. Rocket Boy and I were also tired and didn't want to be on a train, at least not with our children. The other passengers also did not want to be on a train with our children.

But we were all TRAPPED. For an HOUR.

A little before 4:30 the train got to Palmdale and we got off. If we'd had any sense we would have driven straight home to Ridgecrest. But we have no sense. And there were all those stores. First we went to Lowe's so Rocket Boy could shop. Then the boos and I went to Target while RB waited in the car. I had all these things I wanted to buy at Target, but I got caught up in helping the boos choose a toy (I had told them before we went in that they could each have one small toy), and forgot about everything else. When we got back to the car I almost burst into tears in frustration.

We still had Macy's and Trader Joe's on our list. I had a $25 coupon for Macy's. But suddenly I knew we had all passed our limit and I needed to get us home immediately. So I got on the highway and drove fast, much faster than the speed limit, all the way back to Ridgecrest. Everyone else slept most of the way, but I stayed awake, driving, driving, all 92 miles. We got home around 7pm, JUST before I collapsed.

So that was our Metrolink experience -- our only Metrolink experience, since we're never going to do it again.

Rancho Cucamonga

Once again I've gotten off track about posting -- sorry about that, devoted fans. We had two really gruesome weekend trips that I was going to post about and then didn't, because they were so gruesome. Coming up this weekend: yet another trip, which I hope will not be gruesome. We are going to a 5th birthday party in Torrance on Sunday and then staying overnight at a hotel in Glendale which supposedly has a HEATED pool and is right next door to a family-style restaurant and right across the street from a big mall. If all goes well, we might go to the L.A. Zoo on Memorial Day, since our hotel is 2 miles from the zoo. But as we all know, all will NOT go well -- probably the pool's heater will be broken, or the entire pool will be closed for repairs, the mall will be closed for renovations, the zoo will be closed because all the animals are sick, my credit card will be cancelled, the car will get a flat tire... Anyway, think good thoughts for us.

Life continues apace in the potty mouth department. Boos have stopped calling everyone a booty butt, but pretty much every other word they say has something to do with bodily functions. It's my fault, partly. We had a cute book out of the library a few weeks ago called The Very Kind Rich Lady and Her One Hundred Dogs by Chinlun Lee.The one hundred dogs of the title are pictured individually and named, and some of the names are a bit suggestive, shall we say (Pipi, Tinkle, etc.). To get through the book you have to read all one hundred dog names twice, and when I got tired of reading the regular names, I would make some up, such as Poop, Dirty Diaper, and Gas. What can I say, I'm a four-year-old at heart. Anyway, this caused great hilarity and almost immediately got out of hand, and so now, even though the book has been back at the library for over a week, Baby A and Baby B are still calling everything Dirty Stinky Diaper, Poopoo Head, Smelly Gas, and other similar names.

How long does this phase last? And how long would it have lasted if I hadn't made it worse?

The two trips that I didn't want to write about... OK, I'll write just a little. The first one was to Rancho Cucamonga, which is about 125 miles straight south from here. Why did we go to Rancho Cucamonga? Because that's where we bought my computer (used) last fall, at a little shop called PC Mart, and my computer was clearly dying. I don't know if there's a place in Ridgecrest that fixes computers, but even if there were, I wouldn't take a computer there, because one thing Ridgecrest is not good at is SERVICE of any sort. So we drove to Rancho Cucamonga. It turned out the hard drive was dying, so we had to get a new one. Unfortunately, on my computer there was a sticker that said it had a 60 GB hard drive, so that's what the guy replaced it with. Unfortunately, my computer ACTUALLY had a 140 GB hard drive. When this was noticed, we had already spent about 4 hours in Rancho Cucamonga and it was too late to have the guy replace the hard drive and reformat it and all that stuff. And we just couldn't come back. (It was exactly the sort of thing that would have happened in Ridgecrest. Might as well just have stayed home. On the plus side, the twins learned how to say Rancho Cucamonga.)

So now I have a 60 GB hard drive, which means my photos won't fit on it. This is OK because I have lost all my photos (they were supposedly on my backup drive, but I can't find them). Lots of them are on the Kodak photo sharing site, but since the Kodak photo sharing site is GOING OUT OF BUSINESS, that's not going to be much help for long.

I am getting madder and madder as I type. I hate computers.

While we were waiting for the guy to fix the computer incorrectly, we went out to lunch (involving the usual screaming and general mayhem) and then drove off to look for a place to recycle the carload of Styrofoam that Rocket Boy had insisted on bringing along (because of course you can't recycle it in Ridgecrest) and which was blocking my visibility. We drove a long ways to a recycling place, only to be told that the minimum charge was $29 and they didn't accept Styrofoam anyway. So then we had to drive to ANOTHER recycling place, miles and miles away, and fortunately that place DID accept Styrofoam, so we got rid of it,

but not before I had a total nervous breakdown, complete with requests for divorce and pointing out to Rocket Boy that the carbon footprint involved in driving all these extra miles to the recycling place was a LOT bigger than any savings to the Earth from recycling the stupid Styrofoam. It really wasn't such a bad experience as all that, but I had wanted to go to the Rancho Cucamonga mall, and now there wasn't time.

Also it was hot and humid (to us desert rats, anyway).

Anyway, the next day was Mother's Day and Rocket Boy and the twins gave me a beautiful hanging basket (my request)

which two days later just completely died on me. We moved it to a more protected location and I watered it and watered it, and now the white petunias have come back, but all the pink ones are dead and gone. Oh well.

Anyway, this is why I haven't been blogging recently. I think I'll stop here and not describe the other disastrous trip, which involved a TRAIN. Maybe in a day or two, if I feel ambitious. I'm sure you can hardly wait.

DISGUSTING!

On each episode of Sesame Street there is a "word of the day" -- such as humongous, separate, etc. Around our house, the current word of the day (or week, or month) is DISGUSTING, or as Baby A and Baby B also like to pronounce it, SCUSTING!

And what is it that is so disgusting and/or scusting, you might ask? Well, everything really, because everything is now described as a BOOTY BUTT.

Note: We did not teach them this term. I may have used the word "butt" around them once or twice, OK maybe even more than that, but not "booty," at least not this kind of booty. They learned it at DAYCARE. It is DAYCARE's fault, not mine.

So here we are walking to daycare the other day, boos in the stroller, me pushing. A perfectly normal man is approaching from the other direction. Baby A spots him. "Euww, look at that booty butt!" he says.

"Shhh," I whisper urgently. "Don't call people booty butts!"

"DISGUSTING!" Baby A and Baby B chorus, as the man passes us, looking a bit puzzled. It is all I can do not to slug them. I want to run after the man, to explain that these comments have nothing to do with him, but he's long gone and we're late for daycare, so off we go. I hope we haven't ruined his day.

Note to everyone: Do not ever feel bad about something a small child says in your general direction.

At home, absolutely everything is a booty butt, and thus scusting, such as whatever I make for dinner, videos, toys, the mail, the laundry, all the human members of the family, and of course Pie Bear, the biggest booty butt of all. It seems to me that this must be limiting the twins' language development, since they no longer have to remember the names for anything. We're all just booty butts.

(Baby B has another scheme for not remembering the names for things. He says to me: "Mommy, do you know what I have at my painting house?" I say, "No, what?" and he says "Think about it." So then I have to suggest something, and then he gets to decide whether that's what he wants to have at his house or not. I have not figured out how to get around that one yet.)

Of course, what is considered the most disgusting right now is what comes out of people's booty butts, i.e., poop. Baby A and Baby B have always been interested in each other's diapers, and later potties, but now it's turned ugly. Whenever either of them uses the potty in this productive way, the other one hurries over in order to say "SCUSTING!" This makes me kind of sad. I suppose it had to happen, it's a normal part of development, but still. Just one more way in which they aren't little boos anymore.

Of course, today a friend stopped by the house to give me something, and while she was standing in our entryway, talking, Baby A unceremoniously walked up, pulled down his pants, and proceeded to sit on the potty. (Yes, our potties are in the entryway -- the bathroom is too small for them -- so it wasn't really Baby A's fault, but he COULD have used the real toilet in the bathroom. But no. Complete lack of modesty.)

"Oh dear," I said, embarrassed both for Baby A and for Donna. "Maybe it's just pee."

"No, it's poop!" Baby A corrected me. "Wipe me, Mommy!"

"I'll take that as my cue to leave," Donna said, leaving. I wiped Baby A's booty butt and then we had to clean out the potty and flush it.

"DISGUSTING!" said Baby A, and from the other part of the house I could hear Baby B's answering call: "SCUSTING!"