Brawl on MetroNorth

...or at least, the closest thing I've seen to one yet.

On the B train from Brooklyn to Manhattan, if someone were talking loudly on their cell phone for a while, and half the conversation consisted of her saying, "I've got such a bad signal right now! What did you say?!" She would have been given dirty looks by everyone around her, and likely more than one person would tell her to "shut the fuck up" in various colorful ways. And, she would likely switch back and forth between continuing her phone conversation and telling the other passengers to mind their own fucking business. And I'd probably just continue reading my book & chuckle to myself while making sure I was standing in a position clear of any shoving, spitting, or other physical unpleasantries that may be exchanged.

The setup on MetroNorth this morning was the same. I was sitting next to a woman who was being extremely loud on her cell phone. She didn't notice the eyerolling of the other passengers and hung up after about 15 minutes. But then a few minutes later, she broke the pleasant silence of the ride with a sudden, "HI! IT'S KELLY! YEAH I'M ON THE TRAIN!..." causing a few people to jump, startled. While others murmured about how rude she is, up stands one well-dressed grey-haired man who leans over in her direction and says, "Excuse me, Kelly. KELLY. (She turns toward him) It is is very inappropriate for you to talk on your phone the entire ride. It's upsetting everyone. Now shut up."

Aside from the "shut up" part, he was downright polite. She ended her call and announced to everyone that she was sorry. Then, while hiding her face behind her long hair, she started quietly crying to herself. She was sniffling and wiping tears from her eyes. I considered offering a tissue but we were just about to arrive at Grand Central anyway and I figured it would only draw more attention to her, which was apparently the last thing she wanted.

The way the whole thing unfolded seemed to be much more civil in some ways than how it would typically go down on the NYC subway. Somehow, though, it made me very uncomfortable. Seeing the obnoxious person reduced to tears because of a mild scolding from one stranger was much more upsetting to me than seeing aggressive people yell at each other and tell each other to go fuck themselves. I'm sure there's a lesson for me in here somewhere but I haven't figured out what it is yet.

Hugs, No Hugs

Kayla made up a game that we call Hugs, No Hugs. I thought I would record the rules here for posterity.

Rules of Play

1. Kayla will open her arms and ask, "Hugs?"
2. That is your cue to open your arms and ask back, "Hugs?"
3. She will answer, "No." and put her arms down. If she says no, you must put your arms down and say, "Aww." Repeat steps 1 - 3. Each iteration is a round.
4. After 3 or 4 rounds, when you ask for hugs, she will answer, "GEEE!" and run to you and give you a great big hug.

Game over. Everyone wins.

Tips

1. Kayla prefers to initiate the game. If you initiate, she will punish you by putting you through 8 or more rounds of No Hugs. 
2. Hugs/No Hugs is a contact sport. While there is no officially sanctioned protective gear, it is recommended that you brace for impact when hugs are forthcoming. Hugs always follow the warning call of "GEEE!" 
3. (and this is my favorite part) The game ALWAYS ends with hugs.

Math Before English

Kayla is 14 months old and learning how to count. She can't talk yet, mind you. She'll point to things one at a time and say, "Oooone, Toooo, Theeeee, Fooooo, Fiiiieeee, Siiiiii, Eeeeev, EIGHT!, Niiiiiie...." (She really likes the number eight and says it very clearly for some reason.) She can get up to 13 so far and has done some rudimentary arithmetic. She. Is. AWESOME.

Just Plain Fun

While enjoying a bowl of Edy's Girl Scouts Thin Mint ice cream, I recalled an email from a staff member at a Girl Scouts who objected to the effort spent merchandising such products. She asked, "How does Girl Scouts branded ice cream support our goal of re-branding ourselves as more than just cookies & camping?"

There's a big push at my company to get the word out that Scouting is about more than just the outdoors. We have programs ranging from robotics to financial literacy to environmentalism to you name it. The re-branding effort centers around getting people to think "leadership organization for girls" before they think "Mmmm, Thin Mints."

Upon hearing all of this, my grandmother, a former Girl Scout, long-time troop leader & volunteer, said, "When I was doing it, we had more *fun* with the girls."

That statement, combined with a poorly timed episode of Boston Legal where a mother sues her daughter's school for overworking her children to the point where they fall asleep at the wheel & die, put kind of a damper on my enthusiasm for the re-branding effort.

And I got to thinking, why is it that Girl Scouts needs to change that image? What's wrong with being all about camping and cookies and field trips? Why not be satisfied with the organization's value in helping girls learn about their environment and spend time outdoors?

The unfortunate answer to this question and so many others: Money.

It costs $12 to be a Girl Scout (plus other small but assorted fees depending on how you participate), but for every girl, a council typically invests over $200 toward the volunteer training, program development and facilities that go into her having that experience. The money comes mainly from two places: cookie sales, and donations made by members/alumni, local businesses, and perhaps most importantly, organizations like United Way.

United Way and other large contributors prefer not to fund programs that result in nothing more than fun, memories, and friendships. They would rather see outcomes that clearly show some level of academic accomplishment, skill improvement, or tangible contribution to the community. It's certainly a noble cause, but it's a shame that the direction of the organization is effectively dictated not by its history or its obvious strengths, but by the need to acquire more funding from other organizations with different agendas.

But anyway. This is some damn good ice cream.

It must suck to be a baby.

Whenever I find myself getting frustrated with Kayla I remind myself how I might fare in her shoes (or lack of them).

What kind of mood would I be in if:

- I had limited ability to move myself from one place to another
- There were people who's idea of fun was to dangle objects I'm not supposed to touch in front of me
- I wanted desperately to communicate with everyone but I didn't speak the language
- Bowel movements and gas were often painful
- I had trouble getting to sleep
- I had no teeth
- and so on.

Basically, if I found myself naked and crippled in a foreign country. I probably wouldn't be happy nearly as much of the time she is.

Empathy does wonders for one's patience.

I assure you there's a perfectly reasonable explanation for this.

Such a cliche, but so true: They grow up so fast. Kayla's 6-month birthday came and went. She hardly seems like a baby sometimes. It often feels more natural to refer to her as "my kid." She can scoot around on her tummy, lift herself onto all fours, and sit for short periods of time without support. She is probably days away from crawling. She bores easily, but remains cheerful and interactive as long as she has something new and interesting to hold her attention. And the other day, she gave her first hickey.

Don't worry, she gave it to me. She was having trouble getting to sleep, I suspect due to some teething pain. She didn't want to nurse, rocking wasn't helping, and she would only chew on her teether for a few minutes before crying again. I scooped her up in my arms to comfort her and she latched onto my neck. When I tried to give her a pacifier she just kept spitting out. So I let her suckle on my neck for a few minutes and she finally fell asleep.

The next morning I noticed the hickey. I wore a high-collared shirt to work and figured no one would notice. I told one co-worker the story and she laughed. Later that day while sitting around with 5 or 6 other co-workers I said to her, "I can't believe no one noticed the hickey." She said, "No one noticed, or no one said anything?" So I asked the group and they all said, "Oh yeah, I noticed, but I didn't want to say anything."

I explained how I got the hickey putting Kayla to sleep and not in some frenzied teenage make-out session, and went home wondering how many of the dozens of people (co-workers, bosses, vendors, strangers) I'd interacted with that day now have a hysterically inaccurate idea of what my weekend was like.