There are some days when I question my sanity going from the Beach to the Big Apple.
Today was one of them.
This week has been brutally cold so it takes some planning to bundle the little one up (I'm her nanny) just to get to the grocery store. A couple of times we went to Trader Joe's , the family's store of choice, but the elevator has been out. Yes, the elevator. The very busy store has a small entrance on Broadway and the groceries are below street level, one floor on top of another. Since I shop with a one year old the stroller is my shopping cart. No elevator means no groceries.
By Thursday however, we were out of everything. I had to get to the store no matter how cold the wind chill.
I layered up my tights on tights under oversized pants. Then tank, turtle, tank, sweater, scarf, hat, hoodie, coat and gloves.
That was after I layered up the baby. After sliding her into a pink nylon snow suit I zipped her into the stroller bag and drew tight the drawstring top to keep her tucked in. Then put the clear plastic cover secured over all to keep the wind off and we made it out the door, while patting my padded pockets to be sure my keys, phone, and tissues are in them.
Down the elevator out into the cold, up Amsterdam Avenue the ten blocks to pick up big sister from school.
Once there off comes my outer layers and out of the stroller comes the baby and out of her snow suit. Up the four flights of stairs to the classroom we go.
Change sister's sneakers to boots, on go her 2 coats, leg warmers, scarf, mittens, lunchbox, backpack and back down the stairs we go.
Yes, we have to layer up and stroller in again. I've lost a glove. Where could it be? 18 degrees, I need that glove. Unzip the coat, not in any inner pocket. Unzip the stroller blanket to feel under the baby, no. Look under the cart, no. Go outside, did I drop it before I came in? Not there.
Oh please, where could it be? If I left it upstairs the girls would have to come with me to find it. Those stairs. Those layers. Oh, please let me find it.
Off comes my coat. Inside out, every pocket. Not there.
In despair I rip my hat off my head. Found it! It was in my hat! On my head!!
Relieved and laughing I get my coat back on and zipped up. The plastic hood back on the stroller and out the door.
Sister steps up on the little boogie board between the handle bar and the baby and we're off.
Two avenues over and a couple more down we thread our way into Fairway Market. New York City grocery stores make me yearn for a free standing Publix. In the city shopping carts are small and dirty, aisles are packed in various widths, lengths, even order, food selections are minimal and the patrons are not patient.
I have Trader Joe's down to a science; I know exactly where everything is and do not get riled by the excruciatingly long line. It moves remarkably fast.
I do not know Fairway at all. Where is the bread? Do they have frozen peas? Excuse me, sorry, excuse me, little one please stay on the stroller, do they have organic? This aisle is closed!
Finally at the cashier my groceries are bagged and I give the cashier two 20's for the purchase of $39.67. I was thrilled! A small victory but a good one.
Now it's off again. "Big Sister will you you please hold my gloves while I get my scarf back on?" "Baby girl! Wheee!! Let's go home!" "Miss Karen, I'm cold!!" "I'm making chicken soup for dinner that will warm you up, hold on, let's go!"
Eight blocks down I wonder aloud why it seems to be taking so long to get back to the apartment. It felt like I was walking but not moving forward. Dreamlike with each step seemingly mired in cement. It had already been a long day, a very cold day and the end of day business was the busiest part of my day. Believe me, it's no walk in the park but the day's end was in sight.
Finally, back at the building, up the elevator, open up the stroller blanket so the baby can breathe and head towards the apartment door.
"I sure can't wait for chicken soup," says Big Sister as I dig for my keys. With keys in hand I pass the stroller to open the door and I look at the groceries which I'm about to unload.
They aren't there. No bags. Not a single pea.
I left them at the store.
Yes. There are some days...
