Some Days You Have to Have a Sense of Humor

Indeed this day has to be recorded as does every first smile, cute sentence or ballet recital. And all for the sake of granting a wish for a train ride.

Most days, we drive along the freeway to school or Grandma's house right along the BART train track. Occasionally, the girls will ask if they can ride the train. Well, with not much of a schedule or agenda today, it was the perfect opportunity to do just that. I figured we could walk to the BART station an take a ride out to Grandma's house and a stroll through the local street faire as well. Daddy would come pick us up on his way to Mason's birthday party so it would be only a one-way trip. I figured the whole affair would take about an hour and a half.

So, we start out walking, with the girls in the double stroller and brother in the Ergo carrier, toward downtown to catch BART. Mid-way through the walk, it starts to drizzle so heavily that everyone was getting drenched. Fearing stuffy noses, we opted to take the street car the rest of the way - bonus train ride for the girls! The double stroller barely fits and it proves awkward to park the darned thing since they don't have a spaced carved out for strollers or wheelchairs. The elevator system also proved a hurdle. We were on the middle floor and each time the car came to our floor, it was full of bicycles or strollers either going to or from the BART platform. I finally resolved to get in going the other direction and wait it out when it came for us with only one stroller and enough room.

Since 9/11, BART has decided to close their bathrooms. Quite unfortunate when traveling with two pre-schoolers. Not 3-minutes into our 12-minute wait for the train, Ava needed to go pee-pee. I delve through the depths of the stroller and find a swimmy-diaper from last year and squeeze it on her. "Try to hold it, but if you can't wait, this will help," I assure her, unsure myself to trust the absorbency of a swim diaper. Note to self: stock pull-ups in the stroller, just in case. "Wow! That's quite an entourage you roll with," says a collegian approaching in a group of guys wearing UC Berkeley Rugby uniforms. I guess one woman juggling 2 chatty and constantly moving pre-schoolers and a baby strapped to her chest is quite a novel sight for someone who's primary concern is how to get to 9 o'clock classes after late night partying. I remember the days with envy...

Just after the doors close on our train, and in a voice loud enough for all to hear, Bettina notes that her "pee-pee is coming." Hurriedly, I get her off the upholstered seat and search for another swim diaper. Bonanza! Found a real Pull-up! One I can trust! I strip her, apologizing to the rugby team for the show, and feel relief that at least Tina's safe from wetting herself and the BART car. "OK, Tina, now you can let the pee-pee go. You're wearing a Pull-up and you won't get yourself wet. We will find a pee-pee chair when we get to Grandma's." I mistakenly believe that she is assured and try to make the train trip exciting for the girls again. About 3-stops later, Bettina starts dancing and begins to cry. "The pee-pee's coming, Mommy!" Although I assure her (and the other passengers nearby) she can go pee-pee in the Pull-up, she refuses and tries so darned hard to hold it until she can get to a bathroom. I know we have about 20-minutes left of the trip and it pains me to see her try to hold out since I know she's already in pain. The rest of the trip both girls can no longer be distracted by any thought other than the pee-pee chair and the pain they're in. Both are crying, Bettina on the ground at times, and I can do nothing. It's awful. Because I am powerless, the only thing I can think to do is laugh.

Finally, we get to Grandma's station. "Is there a pee-pee chair here?" asks Ava. "I don't know... we'll have to ask," I respond. Coming out of the elevator, I can see there are bathrooms as someone is coming out of the men's. The women's is occupied and I don't have the heart to tell them they have to wait, so we go to the men's. The hallway is too narrow for the stroller, so I direct them to go while I straddle the doorway. I have to dart in and out since they can't reach the paper or the soap dispenser and I don't want to leave the stroller unattended. Exasperated, but finally with happy kids, we leave the BART station and walk to Grandma's door. The trip in total takes 2.5 hours - a whole hour longer than I anticipated and they were so focused on their sad need to potty, I fear they didn't even remember the "fun" of the train. Two and a half hours by public transportation or 25-minutes by car? Now we understand why this is a "special" once-in-awhile event. And, I am reminded that you just have to remember to laugh at your circumstances every once and awhile.