Minnesota, Part III: Seasons

The original reason I planned this trip was so I could play in my alma mater's Annual Alum Soccer Game. Each year the alums suit up and play the current varsity team, and every year there seems to be a barrier against me playing in the game. For the first three years after I graduated, it was law school. Then, my master's program. The following year, Josh and I were on our honeymoon. Then last year, I was pregnant.

I figured this year would be the year. I would be ridiculously out of shape, but I would play. Plus, October is one of the most beautiful months of the year in Minnesota. All the leaves change color, and autumn is in full swing.




Or, um, you see snow fall (as well as turkeys crossing the road) while driving.







And then, the day you are scheduled to play in the alum game, you go outside and the car is covered in snow.




Yeah, soccer in the snow. Just the reason why I moved home to California.

A few years ago, I would have played. Shoot, I would have played in nothing but shorts and a jersey, and afterwards, I would have proudly displayed the giant red octagon imprints the soccer ball left on the inside of my thigh because in 35 DEGREE WEATHER, THAT IS WHAT HAPPENS.

So, I did something that I think falls into the "adult" category. I did what any sane adult with an eight month old infant would do. I opted out. I said, no thanks, left my shinguards in my suitcase, tortured my kid for a bit by taking some outdoor photos of her and then went shopping at the Mall of America.


Luckily, Ehlan had an extra bunting that I could put Lola in. Lola was NOT a fan of the snow. NOT at all. I believe my choice to skip the soccer game (and therefore not subject her to sitting outdoors for 90 minutes) was a smart choice.

In fact when she touched snow for the first time, she looked up at me, and her eyes welled up.




I think it is pretty obvious who is the native Minnesotan.





I love the photo below as well. It's as if Aidan is comforting her, "Don't worry, it's OK, we're going inside soon."


Regardless of the snow, we still made a special trip to alma mater. Oh, the beloved St. Kate's.




Ehlan and I like to joke about how one day Lola will be a first year and Olivia will be an upperclassswoman and show her the ropes. In the photo above, they are sitting in one of the chairs in Derham Parlor that no one ever dares to sit in. Our little future Katies. :)

Minnesota, Part II: Quintessentially Minnesota

Once we arrived in the Twin Cities, we were greeted by one of my favorite people in the entire world, Ehlan. Lola and I stayed with Ehlan and her family for an entire week, and what an adventure-filled week it was.

See, because I don't get to visit Minnesota as often as I would like, every time I come, I want to do all the classic Minnesota stuff. This trip was, of course, a little different since I was toting an infant along and Ehlan has both an infant AND a toddler, so this time we skipped the local college bars and stuck to more family-orientated activities.

Like, going to the grocery store.

[Insert Sarah Palin-esque *wink*].

Actually, going to Lunds is one of my favorite Minnesota activities because it always conjures up memories of Ehlan and I generously taste-testing the Lunds olive bar.

So, we made a small field trip to the Lunds in Highland Park and forced Lola and Aidan to share a cart. As you can see, they weren't thrilled about sharing such small quarters with each other.

My favorite is still the green olive stuffed with blue cheese.

We also ate lunch at Perkins.

For the non-Minnesota informed, Perkins is essentially Coco's, BUT (and this is a big BUT), they have the most amazing muffins. Like, every type of muffin you can imagine. The option of having a muffin comes with every meal. Ordering eggs benedict? Add a muffin. BLT? Add a muffin.

Off the top of my head, I can't remember what I ordered for lunch. But, I do remember this: I had a pumpkin muffin with cream cheese frosting. It was delicious.

I was impressed with the level of kid-friendliness of Perkins. Although, I suppose, small children and loud obnoxious college students are kind of in the same category.

And then, STAND BACK, I saw a million apples be transformed into cider. Well, maybe not a million, but a lot of apples. While this isn't a Minnesota thing, per se, it is definitely NOT a California thing.

For the first few days of my visit, Ehlan's husband kept talking about how he was going to get apples from their neighbor's tree and bring them to his family's apple-cider-making-party-event-thingy. I was like, "Oh, that's cool, apple cider." Then, Ryan showed me one of the apples off his neighbor's tree. It was, seriously, the biggest apple I have ever seen in my life. Like, if it didn't look like an apple, I would have thought it was a grapefruit, or a pomegranate, or a SMALL WATERMELON. It was huge.

Then, Ryan went off to the neighbors and picked a million apples. His family members did the same, and then on a Saturday morning, they all met up at one of the cousin's barns/shops/shed/garage things (I don't know what they are called, but they are everywhere in Minnesota), and pressed them with this thing:

Ehlan and I conveniently arrived midway through the cider party,

and they were ONLY halfway done.

I believe it is safe to say that the cider we drank that night was the freshest cider I had ever drank. It was delicious. It was so good that I almost called Josh and said, "We're moving to small town Minnesota!" But then I remembered that I am only licensed in California and as such, I will be subject to buying my pre-made pastuerized cider at Trader Joe's for eternity. But that's OK, I'll just have to visit Ehlan again sometime soon. :)

Minnesota, Part I and a half: Where's the Breastmilk on this Menu?

To reward those readers who check my blog on a Friday night :)

Minnesota Trip, Part I: Baby on a Plane

First, many apologies to my dedicated readership of three for the delayed posts.

Ever since I returned from our trip, I've found myself battling a cold, and now both Josh and Lola are sick too. Even with our many flights, I was surprised that I caught a cold. I just had a cold in July. Before that, I can't even remember the last time I was sick, but that was in my pre-Mama life, where I slept nine solid hours each night and frequented the gym three days a week.

But, whatever, you don't want to read about my blogging excuses, you want to hear about Minnesota.

OK, here we go.

Like I mentioned in a previous post, in order for us to even get to the Twin Cities, Lola and I endured two airplanes, a layover in LAX, and a quick stop in Denver to pick up more passengers. This resulted in something like EIGHT HOURS of AIR travel. Yes, I spent EIGHT HOURS on an airplane, wedged into a seat made for a person without hips or legs, with an infant on my lap.

Being the semi-conscientious person that I am, whenever I travel with Lola, I try to always sit by other passengers with children. In my mind, I believe it's best to group all the potential melt-downs in one location, this way people who really hate kids can steer clear from that section and sit as far away as possible.

So, on the way to LAX, Lola and I sat in front of a mother and her two-year-old child. As other passengers boarded, they quickly sent Lola a smile and then shuffled past our row, destined for a seat where they could view their SkyMall magazine in peace. Right before the cabin doors shut, a woman hurried onto the plane. She quickly glanced at Lola and I, giving us a side smile that silently said, "I'll pass on sitting next to an infant."

She sat behind us, next to the two-year-old.

As the plane began to drive to the runway, an anthem began behind us. At first, it sounded like whining, then disgruntled statements, and finally, a full on wail, "Coooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooke!"

The flight attendant marched down the aisle and asked the mother to please buckle her toddler into the seat. Gyrating hip movements familiar to Britney ensued. Our row of seats shook like a Southern California tremor. "Coooooooooooooooooooooooooooooke!"

The flight attendant was patient. "Is there anything I can get your son? Maybe some apple juice?"

"COOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOKE!"
"How about some juice?"
"COOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOKE!"
"Juice?"

The late arriving passenger settled it for all of us.
"Get this kid some coke!"

And so, during take-off, the toddler behind us sipped his coke through a bendy straw, and he was quiet.

What was Lola doing during this entire ordeal?
Silently taking notes.

Once we arrived in LA, we hung out at the airport for a few hours as our next flight was delayed. Eventually, somehow, we made it to Denver. Then, we made our way to Minneapolis-St.Paul. It was on this leg of the trip that I believe I possibly scored some additional points for Team Mom.

About midway through our flight, I realized that Lola's diaper needed to be changed. I, being the conscientious traveler that I am (see above), knew that I couldn't change her diaper using the empty seat next to me. I was terrified of (a) her diaper smelling like a big giant pile of poop and then having that big pile of poop smell circulate in the ever-circulating airplane air, and (b) turbulence occurring during the diaper change that would somehow result in her diaper ending up on the floor, in the aisle, on a neighboring passenger, or possibly in my lap.

With my paranoia in mind, I asked the flight attendant if there was a changing station in the airplane lavatory. She replied that there was, and at 35,000 feet, above the state of Nebraska, I began my attempt to change a poopy diaper in an airplane lavatory.

Much to my surprise, there was indeed a changing table in the restroom. (It's incredible the things you never notice in your pre-Mama days.) Noting the lack of turbulence, I quickly got to work.

Changing pad down.
Baby down.
Unbutton onesie.
Unfasten diaper.
Analyze damage and assess number of wipes needed.
Remove 4 wipes from case.
Wipe.
Wipe.
Wipe.
Wipe.
Fasten on new diaper.
Debate on whether to toss dirty diaper in lavatory trash.
Place dirty diaper on tiny sink counter.
Re-button onesie.
Pick up baby.
Fold changing pad.

At this point, I was feeling pretty proud. Then, I realized that I had to pee and I had not peed since two cities ago, which constituted nearly a six hour stretch, and if you know me then you know six hours is practically a personal record for me and my bladder.

That's when I went to an all new level.

With Lola in one arm, I pulled out a toilet seat cover, gulped my sense of pride and sat down. With a baby on my lap, I peed.

I'm sure I'm not blazing any new trails here, but this was quite the accomplishment for me. Check it off the list. Peed with baby on lap, while flying at 35,000 feet. Done. :)

More to be continued....

Assisted

A blurry moment from earlier today.



That's right, she's standing. Granted, she didn't get to that position by herself. She received a bit of assistance, but once she was there, SHE WAS THERE AND SHE WASN'T LETTING GO.

In less than twelve hours we will start hop-scotching to Minnesota. First, we'll board at the crack of dawn, then make a leisurely stop at LAX, then scoot over to Denver, then finally, (8 hours later) we will land in Minneapolis.

Could I have booked us a direct flight?
Yes.

Did I?
No, of course not.

As Curtis says, I like a challenge.

So yes, while all of you are enjoying your morning coffee, your lunch break, and your afternoon snack, I will be on an airplane with a TEETHING INFANT.

If you hear a thud outside your window, I dare you to look. It might just be me.