On Saturday, E and I took Baby Evan up to Amherst, Massachusetts to visit the Eric Carle Museum of Picture Book Art. I read Mr. Carle’s blog fairly regularly and he mentioned the museum was hosting an exibit of Tomie dePaola’s work this summer/fall. Now, I don’t like to play favorites with my children’s books – I have so very many favorites it would be impossible to choose one or two or twelve – but have you SEEN Tomie dePaola’s work? My favorite is The Quilt Story. It’s about a girl named Abigail whose family moves to a new home and her special quilt makes her feel safe and happy. Not to get all sappy and gross but we moved around fairly often when I was a kid, so that book meant a lot to me.

Along with the exibit of his work, Tomie dePaola was also going to be at the museum for a meet and greet on October 17th.  My copy of The Quilt Story was actually already signed “To Suzanne” by Tomie, way back in 1985. So the chance to meet him now, with my own child, was really exciting. (Sadly, Tomie just had surgery on his signing hand for carpel tunnel so he passed out bookplates instead of actually signing. Still worth the trip.)

Baby Evan is way too young to understand the actual museum and a little too young to enjoy the “studio” where kids can make their own crafts, but he was well behaved and – as always – a big hit with everyone who crossed his path. Ok, not WELL behaved – I’m told there was quite a bit of screaming during Tomie’s Q & A in the auditorium but E was nice enough to watch the baby in the hall so I could stay and listen, (Tomie was very funny in sort of an curmudgeonly old man way – he said he didn’t do school visits anymore because kids are hyper and awful and too much for him) but he didn’t poop or throw up on anything. Which is pretty much the baby equivalent of a standing ovation.

I couldn’t take any pictures in the galleries, which are set up like a regular art museum with lots of white space and low lighting. There are two galleries, one holds work by Carle and the other rotates original work by various children’s illustrators. It doesn’t take very long to see all the art (especially with an impatient child) but there is a children’s library, the studio and an amazing gift shop. We may have gone overboard in the gift shop, but with our military discount admission price (only $3 instead of $9!) the trip didn’t cost very much. The museum has an area called the “Cafe” but it was really just a dining space and a couple vending machines. We left to search for food and stumbled across a giant but insanely busy country market/grocery store/bakery/deli. If we hadn’t been in a hurry to get back and meet Tomie I could have spent HOURS picking out fresh produce and locally made goat cheeses. (In case you didn’t know, Amherst is a little…crunchy. Ok, the whole place smells like hippies. College kid hippies.) We also stopped at a pumpkin farm on the way home and got our family of pumpkins for carving and took some great pictures. I highly recommend Western Mass in the fall, and the Eric Carle Museum anytime.

Last week I signed up for Stroller Strides, an exercise class for people with strollers. Usually moms, although I don’t think anyone would object to a dog or a cat or a pet hedgehog in a stroller as long as it stayed buckled in. The classes are held four times a week – Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday – either at the park or at the mall when the weather is bad. I joined because it’s time to buckle down and lose this baby weight. I’m taking it really seriously this time. I’m dedicated to attending class at least three times a week. It’s important for my health, my happiness, my self-esteem and also I paid for a membership plus a month of classes so the only way it’s worth it financially is if I actually show up. I’m counting on my cheapness as motivation.

My first class was last Thursday. Our instructor, Amy, was cheerful and bouncy and peppy and all those awful things good exercise instructors always are. Half way through I was tempted to drown her by throwing her in the lake but she’d probably make all of us join her and swim laps while singing “Baby Beluga”. Blerg. Anyways, class kicked my frickin’ butt and I should have spent the next day lying on the couch complaining and being a giant baby about my poor, sore legs and imagining ways to pay Amy back for the pain. I’m sure Google has some ideas under “crazy satanic exercise woman who clearly hates children and happiness”.

Unfortunately, we had company this weekend so I had to Do Stuff. Wait, that came out wrong. FORTUNATELY, E’s sister Kristi came to visit for a few days so she could meet her nephew for the first time. The unfortunate part is lying on the couch begging someone to bring me Diet Coke and ice cream sandwiches isn’t very exciting for anyone else, so we went and Did Stuff. After Baby Evan’s appointment we headed out to show Kristi a good time, parents of a 6 month old style. So not really the “good time” most people would imagine…but we did go to Mystic Pizza! And to the aquarium! Penguins! Whales! Sea lions! The permeating stench of fish and bird poop! And because I’m one of those crazy attachment parenting people I wore Baby Evan in the mai tei carrier the whole time instead of using the perfectly good stroller like EVERY OTHER PERSON at Mystic Aquarium. Ok, so, sure it meant he could see stuff and interact with E and Kristi and maybe get some mental stimulation and boring junk like that…but DUDE. MY LEGS. And my arms and back and feet and oh em gee why did I join that torture program? So what if my butt never fits on a bike seat again? I DIDN’T LIKE BIKING ANYWAY.

The moral of this story is when you’re totally exhausted from your first real workout in more than a year and dragging a 6 month old around all day, it’s OK to let your husband get up with the baby the next morning. It’s also OK to admit said baby isn’t going to make it through an afternoon of wine tasting and shopping the next day and opt out in favor of naps. I may not win the Martha Stewart Hostess of the Year Award by skipping out of family time with my sister-in-law (and depriving her of PRECIOUS SECONDS OF BABY HOLDING) but I think in the greater scheme of things keeping my sore, sleep deprived self and an exhausted, cranky child away from the general public wins me a Decent Human Being Award. Eardrums of Eastern Connecticut, you’re welcome.

Photos from the first meeting of my baby and my best friend’s baby, with narration.

Baby Evan: Mmmmm…this hand is delicious.
Baby Reid: OMG IS THAT GIANT GOING TO EAT ME???
Baby Evan: Oh hey, I didn’t see you there. Sup? I like your outfit, totally dig the whale.
Baby Reid: IT’S GOING TO EAAAAAAAT MEEEEE! MOM! HELP!
Baby Evan: Don’t cry dude, I promise I won’t eat you.
Baby Reid: Whew, I was worried. Nice to meet you. I would shake your hand but since I don’t quite have use of my own I’ll just punch you in the face instead.
Baby Evan: It’s cool, I totally remember what that was like.
Baby Evan: As a sign of friendship I will punch you back, in the leg.
Baby Reid: Whoa, you moved so fast you’re totally blurry. Take my advice, immobility is the way to go. Don’t let them trick you into doing stuff on your own – next thing you know they’ll expect you to wipe your own butt and it’s all down hill from there.
Baby Evan: Thanks for the advice man. I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
Baby Reid: Yes indeed. I am wise beyond my years month.
Baby Evan: MOOOOOM! I made a friend! He’s tiny and adorable and likes whales!
Baby Reid: Me too Mom! My friend is chubby and bald and looks like he’s going to be trouble. We’re gonna get along great!

I’ve always been an over-packer. I cannot leave a 60-mile radius around my house without outfits for the following situations: what if we go to the beach? what if it’s cold at night? what if we go out to dinner? what if we have to walk really far? what if a giant asteroid hits earth? what if Steven Spielberg suddenly falls out of the sky and says “You! If only you had a red shirt you’d be PERFECT for the lead role in my next film!”? So I tend to carry a lot of stuff.

All that previous packing was NOTHING compared to the amount of crap you need with a baby. We didn’t even spend the night away from home and we still brought an entire car full of baby stuff. There’s the car seat, the stroller, the diaper bag, the other diaper bag, the outfits & burp cloths (because I still have the spitty-uppiest baby in the world), the pack’n’play, the sling carrier, the mei tai carrier, the toys, the bouncy seat…wait, where’s the bouncy seat? Did we forget the bouncy seat?!?!  Luckily, E’s cousin has two kids and a garage full of abandoned baby gear which happened to include a swing. I seriously don’t know how people used to survive before Fisher-Price.

Our trip was to Plymouth, Mass – I’ve always felt that was an appropriate place to spend the 4th, very America-y – and we had a good time. The baby was about as well behaved as a three month old could be. He took a nice long nap in my new baby carrier while we walked around town. Unfortunately, now all the pictures of him in Plymouth look like this:

But he was very happy being carried and he didn’t get a sunburn and besides a little numbness in my left shoulder this morning the mai tei worked great. That’s us standing next to Plymouth Rock. I know, how exciting. A rock. You’re so jealous of our proximity to a random rock on a whole beach full of rocks that has been designated as the official rock the Pilgrims landed on even though it’s definitely not. Oh and someone vandalized it so instead of saying “1620” it says “1820”. So America just lost two hundred years of history. Great job, douchebag vandal.

Here are some pictures from the rest of our day: