For most of the month of July this year, it's been HOT outside!! And I'm committed not to complain after living through the tremendously COLD winter we had this past year. This afternoon as I lugged myself & my sweaty baby through our front door, I chuckled to myself about the theatrics we sometimes have to put ourselves through just to get from point A to point B around here.So, here it is: A Day in the Life...
Tuesday:
Andrew's at LCC managing a youth basketball camp in our gym, and Ieva & I also need to go there so I can attend a couple meetings. I make sure the diaper bag is loaded. Hat on Ieva's sweaty head? Check. Shoes on her sweaty toes? Check. (All babies in this part of the world MUST have their heads & feet covered while outdoors or they might contract some sort of bacterial disease floating around in the air...) With Ieva in one arm & the diaper bag on the other, I walk down our 3 flights to the basement door, and as I grab my keys to open the door, realize that our spare set of keys (I misplaced my set the day before) doesn't have a key to the basement on it. Shoot. Time for Plan B: trek back upstairs & load Ieva into the baby backpack & head back down.
With Ieva on my back, I can walk the usual route going up over the railroad bridge and get to the school within 20 minutes. It's a nice walk, despite the heat. I cut across the non-seeded field in front of the gym & head straight to Andrews office. I walk in, take Ieva off my soaking wet back & run to the meeting I'm 5 minutes late to. Thankfully, managing a basketball camp doesn't involve being in the gym the whole time & Andrew has time to hang out with Ieva in his office while I'm in my meetings today.
Wednesday:
Andrew's at the school again & again, I, too must go there to get some work done. I've found my keys, so Plan A should work this time. I load up the kid & the diaper bag, grab each & head downstairs. I unlock the basement door & set the diaper bag in front to prop it open. I take Ieva down the 5 steps & set her on the floor, keeping one eye on her as I put the long, cylindrical key in the hole in our storage room door & start turning it, hoping it will catch. It's the strangest (and most difficult) key & lock I've ever seen. Ieva's grabbed a piece of plaster laying nearby her from our neighbor's basement renovation. I stop the key turning, grab the plaster & toss it
across the small basement space hoping that she won't go after it again. I go back to the key & 2 full minutes later have the door open. I pull out our stroller (otherwise known as Ieva's armored personnel carrier) and fight to get the big wheels up over the door jam while sharply turning it toward the steps. Ieva's found another piece of plaster & is spitting her pacifier out...which means plaster will be going toward her mouth in about .3 seconds. I bark a loud "no!" at which she gives a startled jump & looks at me with her huge, gorgeous innocent eyes and gives me enough time to push past the stroller, grab the plaster out of her hand, pick her up & return her pacifier to it's rightful place. With her on my hip, I wiggle the key while closing the door & sigh with relief as it latches. Then I grab the handlebar of the stroller & step by step, pull it up the 5 steps to our entryway. Since the stroller is now blocking the front door of our building, I quickly pull the diaper bag away from the basement door, swing it shut & push the stroller in front of it & out of the front door traffic. Basement door locked? Check. Ieva strapped securely in the stroller? Check? Time to walk the 30 minute stroller route? Nope. I head toward the bus stop & pray that one of the 3 that go to the school will be coming within 5 minutes. As I walk there, I also pray that people will help me get the stroller on & off the bus - that's always a bit tricky (to read more about public transport in Klaipeda, click here).I get to the bus stop & check the schedule. Perfect. A #3 bus should be there within 5 minutes. I hope it's the stroller-friendly kind without steps. Or if it has steps, at least the kind that doesn't have a center hand rail. The bus pulls up & the door opens. Steps & a center rail. Shoot. I spin the stroller around & start backing onto the steps, only to have a friendly guy ask (in Lithuanian) if I need help. "Taip! Prasom." I tell him (Yes! Please) and he grabs the other end of the stroller & helps me navigate my way on. Once I'm on, I loop one arm around a pole & dig through my wallet for a ticket while using my other hand to hold the stroller. I punch the ticket in the small red punch box on the pole next to me. The bus is hot & smells like body odor (typical). Thankfully, it's not packed full. At the next stop a young guy from the back rushes up & quickly punches his ticket next to me...hmmm...the bus police must be coming on. Sure enough, as soon as the doors open, the bus police ladies are there, blocking the people getting off until they see their ticket. One comes to me & I hand her my punched ticket. She looks at it to make sure the punch code is the right one for this bus, tears it, and moves on to the next person. No one gets busted this time, although I've seen it happen before.
5 minutes later, the bus pulls up to the stop across the street from LCC. 3 of the people getting off in front of me all turn around to help me get the stroller off. What a relief. I thank them, cross the street, cross the field & leave Ieva with Andrew again and head to my office.
And now the real work begins.
Since Andrew & I will walk home together, we'll go the shorter 20-minute route & carry the stroller up over the railroad bridge. Then when we get home, I'll take Ieva & the diaper bag upstairs & he'll put the stroller away in the basement. I much prefer that system to doing it solo, but...it's all in a day's work in sweaty Lithuania!








