After a productive lunch where she ate an adult-sized portion of steamed beets and roasted broccoli, Kaia got pushed out on a stroller on an aimless joy ride uptown in an attempt to fall asleep (and for mummy to increase her step count). About 15 minutes into this stroll, she easily conked out, and I had the pleasure of listening to The Daily (NY Times) podcast all the way up to 86th Street and back down. When we finally did reach back home, she insisted over and over again that she wanted to go on the swings. I asked her if she was really sure she wanted to go on the swings (as of late, she seems to hate the swings. Chris says it’s definitely because she doesn’t like the the feeling of being trapped or confined in one position), and she kept whining that she did. So I brought her down to Riverside Park, where she cried and pushed as I tried to put her on a swing. I took her out, and then we started our stroll along the walking path along Riverside Park overlooking the Hudson.

The entire Riverside Park is swarming with my most hated insect at the moment, the spotted lantern fly. Every time I see those stupid spotted little red and grey wings, all I want to do is smash them. And given Kaia seems to love identifying them and saying “lantern fly” in her sing-songy tune, I decided to make a game of our little walk: while I pushed her stroller as she walked alongside me, I told her to point out any lantern fly she saw crawling along the ground, and then mummy would immediately go and smush it! We need to kill all the lantern flies in our path, I explained to her, because these lantern flies are an invasive species: they will overtake not only all our vineyards and farms, but they will freaking overtake all of New York City if we let them! And we cannot allow this to happen! So we went along the path, where Kaia’s keen eyesight identified over 50 lantern flies that I happily smashed. Every single time I smushed yet another one, she’d scream and giggle endlessly, then yell, “All dead! All dead!” She’d continue to find more and more, and then I’d smush and smush them. She truly could not get enough of this game.

A number of other parents with young children passed us as we played this game, and a lot of the parents knew what we were doing. One parent gave me an agreeable nod, then started laughing as we smashed and smashed more. Yes, that’s right, friends: we all have to do our part to ensure that New York City will NOT be taken over by these awful pests!

Once upon a time when Kaia was around four months old, we started going out around the city regularly with her. What we quickly found out, or rather, were reminded of, was the fact that most businesses in the city are not at all friendly to mothers and babies in that a changing table in the restroom is nearly unheard of. What this ends up meaning is that I end up having to take out Kaia’s changing pad, lay it out on a gross New York City bathroom floor, and change her on it (once we got home, I’d throw the changing pad into the washing machine). Then, since she wasn’t yet crawling, I just had to hope, hope, hope that she wouldn’t roll over or try to touch the dirty floor. I’d swat her fingers away when she’d try to get her hands on the floor. At around six months, she started rolling. This is when I had to prevent her from rolling OFF the mat while changing. It just kept evolving: at around 8.5 months, she started crawling, and I’d have to sing to her and get her to do anything to stay on the mat. Occasionally, I’d fail, but that would just mean that I’d not only need to wash my hands after a diaper change, but also hers.

Diaper changing has gotten easier, though, since she has started walking. Now, she seems a lot more cooperative during outdoor changes. She’s always keenly observing whatever dark, miserable bathroom we are in. And as soon as I tell her we’re all done, she immediately gets on her feet and starts wandering around while I wash up (Pookster now walking means I never have to worry about her rubbing her hands all over a gross floor again!). The cutest thing that always happens is when I sit down to pee, and she is so weirded out by the tight quarters we are in that she immediately walks back to me, places both her hands on my knees or the tops of my thighs, and starts moaning as though she’s scared. In other words, she has to remain close to me to feel safe and protected. I find it absolutely adorable and endearing, and I always coax her and tell her that she’s safe; we’re just in the bathroom so we can both pee and clean up, and we’ll be outside soon where there’s more light and space. It’s a strange thing to enjoy, but I do enjoy these short, sweet moments when we’re together and close, and she’s feeling vulnerable. I love my sweet baby.

One of the greatest things about daycare/school, at least for our family, is that Kaia is positively peer pressured into a routine, especially the midday nap that happens anywhere between 12-2:45. After the class has their morning activities and lunch, the teachers check and change diapers, then put all the kiddos down for a nap on their little cots. And since day 1, Kaia immediately got into that routine with no fuss at all; the teachers have always said she’s been a good napper and has never resisted napping.

On Saturdays, we usually are out and about, and during that time, Kaia will usually fall asleep and have her nap in the stroller. So during the seven days of the week, Sunday is the worst day for us to get her to actually nap. We’ve tried getting her to sleep on her bed, on our bed, and it rarely works. Napping at home is a nightmare on Sundays. We usually resort to taking her on a stroll to nowhere, on the streets of the Upper West Side, to see if the movement will get her to finally pass out. So this afternoon, when I was pushing her around outside, I noticed all these other parents pushing their babies and toddlers in their strollers, and I thought… are they all trying to get their kids to nap, too?

This afternoon, I was in the elevator at Target trying to go down, and another mom got in with me and her son, who looked to be a similar age to Pookster. She asked me how old Pooks was, and I responded, and found out that her son was just two months older.

“I don’t really need to buy anything; I just need to move to get this kid to nap!” she whispered to me.

“ME, TOO!” I responded, laughing. “I think that’s what every parent of a young child is here in Target for!”

I left Target. I walked up to 77th and Columbus. I took Pooks to the playground. She refused the swing and insisted on running around aimlessly around the play structure. She refused to get on it. I had to fight her to get her back into the stroller. She was clearly exhausted but refusing to sleep. We strolled some more. And more. And more.

…And she finally fell asleep… at 4:15pm.