New York is a walking city. Or if it's not, it becomes one when you don't own a car. Sure, the subway is required and bus routes as well, but I spend a large portion of my day walking.
Today for example, first thing I did was get Paul ready and packed into the stroller in order to take Stanley out for his morning walk. 45 minutes of walking later, we came back to the apartment, dropped Stan off, turned right around and walked to music class. After music class, we walked to the park (via the necessary coffee stop). Finished at the park, walked the 8 blocks home again in time for lunch and nap.
After Paul and I both had a siesta, I thought that perhaps I should do some returns in the city. Paul back in the stroller, walked to the subway, up four flights of stairs carrying Paul, a backpack, and a stroller. When the subway arrived I knew that this was a bad plan. All the cars were jam packed. I had thought that we were going to beat rush hour, but I guess I was wrong. Crammed the stroller into the car, and stood shoulder to shoulder with all the other commuters.
Now, this is an aside from the walking story, but relevant all the same. While on the car, I was jammed up against one of the seats in which a sour looking old man sat reading a book. We bumped, we jostled, and at one point I was pressed into him a little bit. Got a nasty look. More bumping, more jostling, more nasty looks.
At this point in the day, I'm tired. I'm tired from all the walking and the schlepping, and the mommying, and I am just daring this sour old man to say something to me. I'm thinking to myself "If he opens his mouth at all, so help me..." But, I'm also sensitive and defensive. And I'm starting to wonder if I'm too sensitive for this city full of jaded New Yorkers. So, I cave. I can't take the nasty looks, or the crowded subway car that we have no business being on in rush hour.
Two stops later, we abandon plan and get off the subway. Down four flights of stairs, carrying a toddler in one arm, a backpack on my back, and a stroller in the other arm. Walk 10 blocks to the park...again. Walk home, pick up Stanley, turn around and go out for another walk. This time, Paul decides he wants to be carried for the whole walk (left the stroller at home just to change things up!). Paul in one arm, Stanley in the other.
So now it's 8pm. Finally lounging on the couch. Until 10pm, when Stan needs to go out again.
So, with all this lugging, schlepping, walking, you would think that I would be burning a million calories a day and getting skinnier by the minute. But, unfortunately this is New York. And this city wears you down, so here's where the eating comes in.
Yesterday, after we got off the subway, I was holding Paul and we were playing a little game and giggling before I put him back in the stroller. A pigeon shat on my head. Well, that smartened me up and wiped the smile off my face. I immediately walked to the nearest store, bought a Nestle Crunch (which I haven't eaten in about a decade) and ate the whole thing.
Today, after rude subway guy hurt my feelings with his nasty looks, I picked up a frappacino and gulped it down.
These days are so physically exhausting, that I barely ever want to cook or grocery shop, so we order take out.
At the end of the day I am literally sore to the point of aching, but scarfing down a pint of Ben & Jerry's isn't going to trim the waistline. This is what I mean when I say, You Eat Some, You Burn Some (or probably more accurately the other way around, but no matter).
