Zoo Babies on Thursdays

As a full-time working mom there are two ways to deal with the hours you are away from your kids. First, you can try to re-live it all third-hand through formal day sheets, status reports or intense Q&A with the teacher or care giver, obsessing over and demanding details on every moment and activity – What did they eat? When did they last poop? How many hours, minutes and seconds was their nap? Who did they sit by during science class? Who didn’t they play with at recess? How many times did they laugh? How many times did they cry? Were they happy, grumpy, sleeping, sneezy, bashful or dopey?

The other method, which is directly opposite and the one I follow, relies on a singular simple question: “Did they have a good day?” I realize this might lead to some follow-up dialogue pending the answer, but it seems to give me a general feeling about how their time was spent and their overall physical and mental health – please note, I do welcome updates on “critical” injuries, illness and meltdowns. You might think this is too relaxed or that I am a bit indifferent to how they spend their eight hours while I am hacking away at a keyboard and watching Live Meeting presentations. So first, let me say I really do care. But second, I really don’t want to know. From highlights – Alex rolled over! – to lowlights – Avery threw up! – I don’t need a detailed summary of what I am missing. It’s tough to know you were not there for baby milestones or that someone else held your sick child for three hours, because I do believe those are a things I am supposed to witness and take care of, and therefore to hear them after the fact is just salt in the wounds.

However, there is one exception to this rule – a day at the zoo. Because nowhere in my mental motherhood manual is strolling through a humid park of caged animals noted as a job requirement and, to be perfectly honest, I am not a “zoo” person – it smells, it is dirty, it is crowded with patrons I don’t want to brush up against (or even look at), and most importantly, it is filled with animals and animals do nothing for me (not even the ones that are supposed to cute and furry). But I hear that kids love the zoo – and I guess my kids do too – so I am very thankful that zoo passes and frequent trips down to Dana Avenue are part of the grandparents’ routine and I only get to experience it through Eric Carle-like recaps of waddling penguins, roaring lions and monkeys waving their arms.

Alex and Avery did go to the Cincinnati Zoo yesterday. Sounds like they had a blast and Grandma Muse took a few photos, which I didn’t mind hearing or seeing.