Traveling Ramblings: Jersey Shore

Today, we packed the car, the kids, and grandparents and drove down to the Jersey Shore.

When we arrived, we soon realized the beach was also packed. We found a spot between a group of teenage boys playing volleyball, and some long legged girls tanning in their bikinis. Looking around, I suddenly felt too old to be there in my miracle-shape bathing suit.

Much to my amazement, there were a ton of dark, I mean really leathery sun bathers at the beach. There were people of all shapes and sizes, scorching under the July sun. We were huddled under two SPF 100 umbrellas, and I dressed the kids in long sleeve sun guards, and covered their face thick with sun block lotion. I felt old and out of place.

I decided to take the kids to the playground at the beach. At the playground I saw a group of boys laughing and playing near the swing set. I thought how nice it would be for my son to be able to hang out with his friends like that when he gets older. I walked to the swings to put my daughter in the baby bucket seat. Then much to my surprise, one of the “boys” took out an actual cigarette, and lit it.

I was stunned. I looked at the boy, and he looked no more than 9 or 10 years old. He had perfectly groomed eye brows, and a diamond stud earring. His friend climbed to the top of the swing set, and started making indecent gestures at the girls across the playground. How old were these “miniature” people anyway? Were they just really young, but “urbanized” or were they actually much older, just developmentally pre-mature? I couldn’t tell. I thought smoking was something we dealt with in the 80’s. I didn’t realize that now 10 year olds are smoking. I dragged my two toddlers kicking and screaming out of that play ground, just in time so they don’t pick up on all the “f” words, and get lung cancer from second hand smoking.

Being back in New Jersey brings back certain memories of childhood. I was no angel, and I’ve done my share of sneaking out beyond my curfew and crashing my parent’s car. But somehow, motherhood had a way of fast forwarding life that I’ve now become one of those adults who frowns upon smokers, sun-tanners, and kids growing up too fast.

“Being a cool mom doesn't mean to set your kids free without boundaries, but it is important to give your kids room to move and learn things for themselves. This will help you to enjoy parenting and help your children to enjoy being raised. It's a win-win situation.” -- WikiHow

I’m sure some 14 year old wrote that parenting advice on WikiHow because the thought of letting my son grow up and letting him hang out with those boys at the playground gives me a panic attack.

I am most definitely NOT a cool mom.

Traveling Ramblings: New Jersey

How do I describe New Jersey? Being a true Jersey girl, I’ve always been very defensive about Jersey. I didn’t realize it was the butt of every joke until I went to college where I first heard it being described as the “armpit”. To me, Jersey was always an extension of New York- just a little bit less crowded, nicer, greener, and much cheaper shopping.

Here are some interesting facts:

- This week, Gas is only $2.35/gallon. That includes the full service. They actually get offended if you come out of the car and start pumping the gas yourself.

- There’s no sales tax on anything you wear- that means no sales tax on clothes, shoes, etc,. Heaven!

- Others might call Jersey the “armpit” but the Jersey people call it “the Garden State”

- There are no “freeways” – every highway has tolls. To cross the bridge from New Jersey to New York, you would have to pay stinkin’ eight dollars!

- Jersey people really do have an accent. I’ve been denying it my whole life, but there’s no hiding it. Thanks Tony Soprano for letting the whole world know how we talk.

In Jersey, I intend to get spoiled and pampered by my parents. I plan to catch up with old friends, go shopping and get lots of R & R.

Home sweet home...

Traveling Rambling: San Jose Airport

“What? Are you insane?” a friend asked me. Call it ignorance, a pure fantasy, a delusion for being landlocked for what felt like an eternity with young kids, but I really thought it was a good idea to travel for a month with my two under-aged travelers- without my husband. Since our family is in the process of moving to San Diego anyway (hubby got a job there, and has been working there since May), why not use the opportunity to go and pay over-due visits to friends and family across the country?

So I began my cross country trip. I love to travel. I love just showing up at friend’s houses and surprising them. I love to go to places with nothing planned, and just “figure things out” when I get there. Unannounced, unexpected, and unpredicted was my style.

Now that I have two toddlers, and most of my friends have toddlers, anything “unexpected” is usually NOT a good thing. Knowing this, I arrived at San Jose Airport 2.5 hours prior to my departure time. Knowing that the evil airlines would charge me a fee for checking curbside, I got a luggage cart, and began loading 2 large suitcases, 2 car seats, my jewelry case, oversized diaper bag and a stroller. With my one year daughter in a baby carrier, and holding my 3 year old son’s hand, I began to walk towards the check-in line. Wednesday afternoon with the economy the way it is, I expected the airport to be empty. To my dismay, the check in line was packed, there were only 2 agents working at the counter and the airport was anything but empty.

“57 lbs. That will be $50” said the ticket agent. WHAT? I packed and weighted the suitcase myself just yesterday. “53 lbs, that will be another $50, total of $100. Would you like to pay it by cash or credit?” CRAZY!! I just waited 45 mins in the line so I can avoid paying the curbside fee. I was NOT about to pay $100 after waiting in line for that long. “I’ll rearrange my luggage” I said adamantly. The ticket agent rolled her eyes, and let out a loud sigh that screamed “I’m too busy to cater to you.”

I opened my over-sized and over-weight suitcases, and began to rearrange the load frantically. I can feel the eyes of disgruntled travelers behind me. How can my bags be off by 10+ lbs? Was my scale off? Have I’ve been weighing myself on the broken scale all this time? DOES THIS MEAN I AM ALSO 10+ POUNDS HEAVIER? There I was, in front of the ticket counter, with packages of Pampers, Ziploc full of wooden trains, clothes, and toiletries scattered everywhere- all eyes were on my 10+ lbs over-weight bags, and on my 10+ lbs over-weight self.

After several unsuccessful attempts at trying to magically get rid of the overweight lbs, I finally ended up with the unanticipated penalty of $50, a 67 lb suitcase, and a very visible fluorescent “heavy” tag hung like a scarlet letter on my suitcase.

The two hour flight to Denver was anything but easy. But the worst part of my trip was definitely the unanticipated $50 plus the unexpected weight gain. Sigh…

So began my month of travel. Next stop – Denver. Stand by for more unexpected, and unexpected happenings.