Santa Barbara January 21 - February 1, 2006 About our trip to Santa Barbara ZOO, and our kids' steady progress

	On the road to sunshine, one needs protective gear.

Ugly Christmas time and new year's weather brought our spirits to a new low. When it finally improved, we began to wonder where to go on a trip. Not that we were free of ideas, but plenty of them cannot be made real. Above all with two kids, we cannot just get in the car and drive wherever our whims take us. Juniors do protest whenever exposed to an endurance test in their respective car seats. I don't blame them -- just imagine being strapped in one position: a few hours can be tolerated, but not a whole day. Snow-filled passes of our Sierra represent another problem -- every trip to the desert means lengthy detour now. So we decided to go south.

	Lisa has again started to get carried in a sling.

Several of our kid-bestowed friends had recommended Santa Barbara -- there supposed to be a pretty ZOO for the little ones. And since my long time buddy Pája now lives a married life in Southern California, I have arranged a get-together with her and her family at this ZOO. The toughest part of the preparations was getting a hotel reservation. At least for me, that is, for I really hate calling on the phone. It's also been harder to find the right moment, for either both kids are asleep (which happens very rarely) and then I'm afraid that I could wake them up (the first rule of survival for a stay-at-home mom is NEVER EVER WAKE UP THE CHILD!) -- or they don't sleep, and then they tend to pick a key moment of a telephone conversation to start to vomit on the phone (Lisa), pee next to the potty (Tom), shriek (Lisa), yell (Tom), devour important documents (Lisa), refuse to eat and instead slop food around self (Tom), or proceed in kinship free style wrestling match (Tom is larger and heavier, Lisa has sharper nails and raspier voice). After a few calls made with our dramatic home in the background I also came to a conclusion that all hotels in Santa Barbara are 1) expensive and 2) poorly equipped with sufficiently large beds. After all, it's unwise to share a mere twin bed with a Hippo.

Carpinteria came to the rescue, a small town about ten miles south of Santa Barbara. It got its name during an expedition by Gaspar de Portola, who was looking for a land connection to Monterey. In one place, he encountered friendly Indians who manufactured boats out of whole logs, and so he named the place A Carpeter's Shop. Hotel prices in Carpinteria hovered near something passable for room fees, and not a historical year; they also confirmed two queen-sized beds (which is the smallest we can share with my Hippo).

	Our little girl doesn't appreciate animals yet, but enjoyed being carried around in a sling.

We started packing on Saturday morning, planning to take off after lunch, and travel in no hurry all those 300 miles southwards. Oddly enough, packing went well this time. It's true we were preparing only for one night out, so we were taking with us only a minimum volume of diapers, bottles and food. We had also turned down the idea of including a collapsible crib with us, as Lisa definitely would not protest sharing the bed with us (it's more likely us who's going to suffer being pushed out and wheezed at). We made it out of the door before noon and had lunch at our favorite brewery in Salinas. Our hope that well fed kids would fall asleep worked half way: Lisa met her expectations, but Tommy remained alert and of high spirit, watching the road and commenting on things passing outside, thus not showing any affinity to sleep.

After a few hours, general mood in the back of the car went more south than we drove so far. Lisa demanded her mush, Tom required letting out. We had to make a stop. The nearest suitable rest area turned out to be ideal for Tom. No, don't expect anything like swings or playground turf -- no such thing would ever interest our junior, as an old unused piece of highway does, one going from nowhere to nowhere, with a curb, reflective patches on a cracked blacktop, and a bridge from which on can throw little rocks into an abyss. I took Lisa on a walk in her sling carrier -- the front-loader makes my back ache, and her feet kick me in my legs so that I am almost unable to walk; hence I rediscovered the previously discarded sling and carry Lisa on my side. She's visibly happy that way, for she's got a good view of things happening around, but she can also snuggle her nose into mamma and take a nap. She watched for a while how Tom would drive his toy truck up and down the bridge, and then we returned back to have some mush, allowing our "boys  to go and see some railroad tracks.

	Giraffes are literally eating off your palm at Santa Barbara ZOO.

Eventually we stuffed our loudly protesting kids back into the car and drove on. Luckily, our destination was not far. We let them stretch a bit at the hotel; Lisa loves to crawl and roll around, and she really needed some exercise. Then we went to look for some dinner opportunity, and besides various suspect joints, we found an excellent Thai restaurant, Siam Elephant. Tom was so sick of sitting in a seat from the car, he refused to wait for his meal and we had to take turns walking with him around the restaurant and admiring nearby railroad tracks.

In the evening we let Tom watch a Thomas the engine story on a computer and wondered about a spot on a bed sheet. Lisa would hurl relatively often, but this did not seem to have happened in the afternoon. I have to say that the idea that the hotel would not even bother to change bed sheets upturned my stomach. Alas, one has to pick one's fights -- if we were here without the kids, we would simply go elsewhere, but to move the whole circus and to force children into the car and search for another accommodation seemed quite unrealistic, and thus we only asked for a clean bed sheet. It became a lesson for next time -- inspect the bed sheets right away.

	Gecko: a green dragon that can walk up a glass wall.

Remembering how Tommy had acted up during our night at the hotel in Coalinga, we decided to let Sid sleep with him, and I got Lisa. Still I had to put her to sleep first, and then Tom as well, for he regarded daddy as the source of fun and a reason to craziness, and refused to take seriously his father words about sleeping, now. By eleven, both kids were finally in bed -- just in time for our hotel neighbors to get back to their rooms as well, and with them their door slamming, toilet flushing etc. Tom woke up about twice during the night, Lisa nursed at five a.m. -- simply another night full of passion. I just don't see what Sid was complaining about -- this way (with a few hours of interrupted sleep every night) I have been living for over half year now, day in and day out, and I don't really notice it anymore.

	California landscape, 300 miles from our home - it's like a trip to the Mediterranean Sea.

I never refuse coffee in the morning while my Hippo needs feeding as well; we have packed, found the closest open "cafe" and settled inside for a breakfast. It was quite crowded, but the waiters buzzed about and the food was good. They serve all meals all day -- breakfast, lunch, dinner -- and we had a good choice. I tool pancakes, Sid an omelet with ham, Tom nibbled at our stuff. He has been eating little less in the morning lately, so we did not push him. To our surprise, we hit a record even with the whole circus of ours, for quarter to ten would find us at the ZOO gate -- which was still closed. Tommy did not mind, he circled on the parking lot, checking out all storm drains, and he even spotted a real train passing by. Entrance fee was merciful -- having a membership to San Francisco ZOO helped, for it gives us 50% discount on many similar attractions.

Santa Barbara is located in another climatic zone than our house. We thus enjoyed the warm air, strange smells and the feeling to be "over the border" of our daily routine. Of course we have some palm trees growing where we live, but they certainly don't look so at home and seem to sometimes suffer from the cold nights. All palm trees look very comfortable and thriving at Santa Barbara. The ZOO is set into a hillside, paths lead up and down, opening view framed with sub-tropical trees and plants. The actual menagerie is tiny, but holds many exotic species and most of them are well displayed. A children's railroad encircles the gardens, which we could not ignore. While we were waiting for the train, Paja with her husband, their friend and their daughter Ellen caught up with us. Eli is half year younger than Tom, but much more sociable; perhaps because she has been going to preschool for three mornings in a week, or just because she is a female -- in a short while, she grabbed Tom by the hand and dragged him around where she needed. Tom failed to meet the challenge, when he did not want, not even for a moment, share his toy truck with her; fortunately Ellie did not mind our brute.

	This lowland gorilla could be seen quite well behind this special glass (most likely a one-way mirror).

We had a lunch together in a down-town restaurant (after having managed to park there!). Sitting out we discovered how deceptive a winter's sun can be, even this far south -- it was hot, but once a cold wind blew, everybody showed goose-bump. Then we packed the kids and tried to cut through the city traffic out to the freeway. We did not possibly get there the shortest way, but at least we visited several parts of the city. Santa Barbara includes a famous mission and presidio. Spanish influence is apparent around the whole down town; buildings, streets, all this looks quite different from our neighborhood, way up north. Alas, Lisa was howling all the time, and we had no choice but to stop for a while and feed her. I don't know why she could not have remembered to be hungry back at the restaurant.

	At the beginning, Eli and Tom played each separately.

The ZOO obviously taxed our kids and so they slept most of the way back. They missed even our stop for changing drivers. Unfortunately thanks to Lisa's seat turned against the driving direction, we had to keep the passenger's seat shifted all the way forward, and my Hippo after an hour of a dizzying sleep demanded to be let back behind the wheel, where he could stretch his frame again. At that time started our troubles with cruise control -- it kept switching off, and our car drove like a bad donkey. Our second swap woke Tom, who started to whimper. Lisa accepted a bribe in the form of cereal mush, but Tom remained completely grumpy. Pushing the kids back into their seats seemed to me like torture, but we had to do it.

	All in the family.

Our next step was for the gas. Tommy was excited to be let to run around shelves in the small shop, trying to discharge his energy there. Lisa looked over my shoulder at Tom and both laughed and were so happy our journey was over ... only we still had about sixty miles to go -- which we did, mostly entertained by constant screaming. Bottom line -- we still want to return to Santa Barbara someday -- to go through the historic down town, to take the kids to the ocean (the sea there sports a slightly more tolerable temperature, compared to our 60°F), and to the ZOO again, and perhaps see Paja and her family again. We would need more time though -- and they children would appreciate a few day's rest between the two long trips.

Getting closer to the end of this journal, I'd like to share with you a few news. At six months of age, Lisa is 27.5 inches long and weighs 14.5 pounds. The doctor shook her head over these numbers -- it means that Lisa grew over an inch in two months, while gaining only ten ounces. Well, she may have turned after me. The story is still being told in my side of the family, that my school doctor, who noticed that my mass was below standard back when I was about seven (oh the good old thin times) and quizzed me sweetly, whether my mother had been preparing me any dinners. Since I did not like her and also because cooking has been a male's affair in our family, I said briefly and truthfully that she was not, and did not think about it again. The more it was an issue for all the teachers who hurried to invite my mother for counseling, where they importantly explained that children deserved regular meals. My poor mom had no idea where this had come from. Lizzy's doctor was amused by this little story and relaxed a bit, nevertheless my assignment now is to "indulge" my little daughter -- add olive oil or avocado into her meals to supply extra fats.

	Eli and Tom on a slide.

It has been my personal opinion that Lisa simply "burns" all the calories. I have already complained here how little she sleeps. At times when she's awake, she sweeps through the whole house -- quite literally. This morning my nerves gave in and I had to change her onesie. She does not know how to crawl on her knees, but she slides on her belly while pulling herself forward with her hands. She's amazingly fast in localizing, grabbing and devouring of interesting objects (Tom's toy cars, my magazines etc.) and the other day she opened our kitchen cabinet where we store plastic bags, which took her to the apex of delight. There comes time again for us to carefully close and lock every compartment, and to clean the floors so that one (Lisa) can eat off them (literally). Unless I affix a mop on her belly and let her cover both the hardwoods and vinyls...

	Preference diversity: Eli is interested in Tom, Tom is interested in drains.

Tommy repeats ever more and more words, and manages to hold serious conversation. He says colors and numbers in English, but understands their Czech equivalents. Sometimes he surprises me -- the other day he begged for a helium balloon and when the shop clerk handed the line to him, he uttered matter-of-factly, "thank you," and went on his way. He must have seen what we do in similar situations, and began to use it. There's another story about balloons. Tom was watching a Teletubbies episode where they play with a balloon which eventually flies higher and higher, until it disappears. Poor Tom broke into tears over this balloon of theirs and would not quiet down. We were unable to explain that it's just a TV story. He was crying and crying. I once read the Red Riding Cap fairy tale to him, but only once. He beheld the evil wolf, said "woof woof" and thereupon was interested in the fate of the "doggie." I did not have the heart to insist that it was a bad predator, much less that it would be eventually killed and ripped open. Tom knows no wolves, only friendly dogs from our neighborhood, which we pets occasionally. Meeting the cruel reality is still before him.

Tom's preschool shall begin with the first of March. We had paid the enrollment fees, filled up forms, and now I can go there with Tommy; he cannot stay without parents first (the school won't be responsible until he's formally in their care), but if I'm with him, we may stay whenever and as long as we want. So far it's been about on and half hour. Tom was initially subdued, only after thirty minutes went to play with their toys. He carefully ignored other children. I hope that he would get used to it and may even like it. Currently I'm pretty down again. Lisa goes to sleep after ten; if I want to read something (e.g. the news), write the journals or -- God forbid -- have a chat with my own husband, I get to bed by half midnight. By six a.m. it's my turn again for nursing, which makes Lisa perky and alert, and she agrees to settle down by seven -- which is too late for me to fall asleep again. During the day, she only dozes off for a few brief, boring moments (like while riding in a car), to not miss anything important (for example, when I "enjoy" ironing or cleaning up). Combining this with Tom, who's awfully self-reliant and skillful (e.g. he would climb up a kitchen chair, picks up our second phone handset and talks into my phone calls, pressing various buttons; or serves himself fruit juice so that he spills it over my keyboard, desk, chair and floor), and helpful (using a hand brush, he professionally distributes dust and thrash into all corners). I really cannot keep up with it -- limiting myself to diverting major disasters. I keep repeating to myself that the less time I devote to keeping things in order, the more I have left for my children, but no such wisdom would ever cause shirts to get ironed, or bathroom tiles to get scrubbed.

Copyright © 2006 by Carol & Sid Paral. All rights reserved.