Tag Archives: baby busling

Busing with two babies: one year later

This time last year, I was adjusting to busing with two babes. My first few months with a newborn and a two-year old were challenging, to say the least. But then, my little chip off the big chick stepped up and became a full-time walker, and our travels—Busling in the front pack, Chicklet on foot—got easy again.

The good old days

Now, sweet Busling is growing up, and the old system isn’t working. These days, traveling alone* with two is, well, tough. It’s not the actual riding that’s the challenge (not to brag, but I could teach a class on managing children on transit); it’s the logistics. The wrangling, rushing, folding, hand-holding, stowing, storing. The paying while entering or leaving (and sometimes, while entering and leaving**), the finding space, the keeping dry.

What I’m really trying to say is, it’s the stroller.

Baby B has grown too big to be carried comfortably in a front pack (and has also developed a particular fondness for the phrase, “get down”). The carrier we have also works as a baby backpack, but I am incapable of getting him on or off my back without either assistance or a lot of time. Add to that the fact that neither of us is comfortable with the prospect of him being strapped to me for the duration of an outing, and you have a pretty decent argument for bringing along a stroller.

Except that bringing a stroller on a bus is just about the worst form of torture this bus parent can imagine.

For those who don’t know: KC Metro does not allow children in strollers on buses. (I’m embarrassed to admit that I have no idea why this rule exists, but I assume it has something to do with keeping the aisles clear.) What this means is that, if you’re traveling with a child in a stroller, you must remove the child from and completely collapse said stroller before entering the bus. (I’ve seen some parents do the child removing and stroller collapsing on the bus, but I don’t, for a number of reasons.)

Here’s a sample busing-with-two-and-a-stroller scenario:

1. Put baby in bus-friendly, umbrella-type stroller for the three-block walk*** to the stop. (Alternative: Put baby in front pack for the trip to the stop and carry or drag the folded stroller.)
2. Try to push stroller with one hand while using the other hand to hold on to three-year old. This leaves no hands to hold an umbrella if it is raining, which it almost always is.
3. Attempt to arrive at the stop with enough time for baby-removal/folding (Ever tried arriving anywhere early with two young children?), but not so much time that the three of you get soaked.
4. Remove baby from stroller while keeping a close eye on three-year old near very busy street.
5. When the bus arrives, carry baby, stroller, bag, and three-year old up bus steps—unless, that is, the bus gods bless you with a low-floor vehicle. (Alternatives: a)Allow three year-old to do the climbing herself and hold up the bus. b) Bring baby pack for on/off and add another item to keep track of and another step to the process.)
6. Pay (convenient bag tap—actually easy—yay Orca!).
7. Find space for everyone and an out-of-the-way place to stow the stroller.
8. Spend a few (sometimes many) minutes of quality time with the kids–usually reading books or discussing the goings-on outside the window.
9. Start preparing to repeat the process in reverse.

The new world: a walker and a rider

Because I so despise bringing a stroller on the bus, I spend a lot of time calculating whether it is worth it to me. I generally weigh the hassle of bringing it (if we have to transfer, how crowded the buses are likely to be) against my need for it at the other end. If we’re visiting someone’s home, I’m unlikely to need it. If we’re hitting several different downtown stores, I’m very likely to need it. (If I decide not to bring the stroller, I carry Busling in the front pack and endure the less-than-idealness.) Sometimes (actually often) both the hassle factor and the need factor are high. Add to this the many mitigating factors (rush hour? nap time?) and the fact that our backup travel options are also made more complex (or impossible) with two kids, and it adds up to way too much mental (and physical) energy invested in simply getting around. (I knew we should’ve moved near a Link station!)

Of course I know this challenge will pass. It will get better temporarily when the weather improves (Hello, August? It’s me, Bus Chick. I miss you!), and it will disappear entirely (to be replaced, I am sure, with new and different challenges) once Busling is old enough to walk several blocks on his own. Not that I’m rushing things. The years are flying by as it is. And, stroller hassles or not, I created some amazing baby-busing memories during this one.
***

* I should say, before you all start to think I’ve gone sour on the bus, that busing with two adults and two children is still a lot of fun—far more fun than I imagine driving with two adults and two children would be. And these days, busing alone with one child feels like a vacation.
**If you ride a route that originates outside of downtown but travels through it, you have to pay twice because of pay as you enter/pay as you leave drama. (If you’re not from Seattle: Don’t ask.) Of course, you don’t actually get charged twice—since you already have either a transfer or a pass—but it’s still a hassle.
***Distances vary, depending on which route we’re catching.

2010: the bus year in review

Best ride of 2010: Easy: first ride with my sweet boy. (It didn’t hurt that it was on the 27.) More on the joys of busing with Busling in a few weeks, on his birthday.

Worst ride of 2010: Also easy: that terrible, terrible, morning-after-MLK-Day 4 ride. That one just might qualify as the worst bus ride of my life.

Driver of the year (really, every year): Smooth Jazz, of course.

Route of the year: ST550. Thanks to my role on the Regional Transit Task Force, I rode the 550 more times between March and October of this year than I did in all of my previous years buschickdom. I give the “7 of the Eastside” props for speed and frequency–even if it is always way too crowded.

And speaking of…

Most inspiring transit-related experience: My participation in the Regional Transit Task Force. It was amazing to see such a large group of people—with many different perspectives and priorities—come together to do what’s right for the citizens of this county. I’m proud to have been a part of it.

Most depressing transit-related experience: My participation in the Regional Transit Task Force. As we task force members were made painfully aware: Metro is going to experience deep cuts in the very near future. It was our job to find the fairest way to make the cuts, but “the best we could do under the circumstances” won’t mean much to the thousands of people who depend on transit to get around–or to the many who’d like to see this region provide some real alternatives to SOVs. Hard stuff.

On a happier note…

Best (personal) ride enhancements:
1) Bus info on the go. I resisted for many years, because I generally avoid buying “stuff” (especially electronic stuff) just because there’s something new to buy. (Folks, if you saw my laptop, you might feel inclined to pray for me.) But, I finally broke down and got a smart(ish) phone with a data plan. With two kids in tow, being able to use the internets to find out when the bus is coming (et cetera) is really, really useful.

2) Two-wheeled transportation. The bus is great for a lot of trips, but there are occasions–like when I have to get somewhere that’s too far to walk in a reasonable amount of time but not at all convenient by bus–when I wish I had some bike skills (and, in the absence of separated bike lanes, more courage). Earlier this week, after years of saying I should, I finally swallowed my fear, dusted off that Dahon I won three years ago, and rode to the tailor to take some pants in for repair.

The distance (about a 30-minute walk) was perfect for a trial trip. I stayed on back streets and hardly dealt with any cars, which made me wonder what, exactly, I had been so scared of. Plus, it was fun! I zoomed down hills (though I didn’t much enjoy struggling up them), and I didn’t have to wait (no disrespect to the bus) or (my peeve) rush. My goal for 2011 is to ride the bike (solo–not ready for the big leagues yet) for at least one trip per week. Come to think of it, maybe once every other week would be more realistic. Every month for sure. Hold me to it.

And now, I will return to my glass of Cristal(ino) and my Bus Nerd.

Happy 2011, everyone!

The bus family takes a drive

Over the long weekend, we bus types did the Zipcar thing and spent Saturday hiking on Mount Rainier. In the old days (back when it was just Bus Nerd and me), our Tahoma adventures included hard hikes (for which we were rewarded with breathtaking views) and overnight camping. These days, we stick to easy day hikes and settle for great views. I miss our grown-up trips, but I do enjoy bringing the little ones. Exposing Chicklet and Busling to the beauty of the natural world is good for them in all kinds of ways. I hope it will also help them understand why it is crucial that we (and by “we,” I mean humanity in general and Americans in particular) change the way we live and get around.

I digress.

It’s no secret that I’ve been struggling a bit since I started busing with two babies. The problem isn’t the actual busing –I worked out those logistical kinks pretty quickly; it’s the timing. I feel like I’m constantly rushing or waiting, and doing either with two small children is a heck of a challenge. But folks, it only took a day of driving with two babies to remind me why I am so grateful for my life on the bus.

It wasn’t all bad. The trip to the mountain was fairly–actually, very–pleasant. We left when we were ready instead of scrambling to get everyone out the door by a specific time. The luxury of cargo space allowed us to be pretty indiscriminate about what we brought with us. (Extra books? Extra snacks? Extra clothes? Why not?) We didn’t even bother to organize most of it. Busling slept for the better part of the ride, and Chicklet entertained herself by requesting songs (as it happens, she’s also a Dwele fan) and playing with her dinosaur sticker book. Nerd and I had some rare time to chat. The whole family arrived at the mountain rested and ready for action.*

Tahoma, here we come!
A phone photo before takeoff

The ride back was pretty darn bad. Busling started screaming about 10 minutes in and, except for a few minutes of sleeping, didn’t let up until we arrived home and were finally(!) able to remove him from his car seat. Chicklet spent most of the ride trying to (and succeeding at) removing her arms from her car seat straps. We pulled over once to recombobulate her (while Busling was screaming his head off, mind), but it didn’t take long for her to start up again. If the straps were loose, she removed her arms because she could. If we tightened them, she struggled to get out because they were “too tight.” When she wasn’t endangering her life, she was whining, begging for snacks, and asking when it was going to be time to get out.

I couldn’t reach either child from my position strapped in the front, though twice I twisted myself onto my knees to re-strap Chicklet. I couldn’t even see Busling (he’s still too small to face forward), which is probably just as well, since I don’t enjoy watching him scream.

I never have those kinds of problems with my kids on the bus, mostly because they have my attention. I can hold them, entertain them, console them, and correct and redirect as needed. Yes, the timing can be a pain for me, and the waits** are sometimes tough for Chicklet, but the actual rides are almost always fun. In two and a half (plus) years, I’ve endured exactly one bus meltdown, and that only lasted for two minutes.

What’s a little rushing (or waiting) compared?

*Unfortunately, we had to delay our action for some time, since all of the parking near the trail head was taken. (That’s the thing about cars: You always have to find someplace to put them.) We drove around for a good while, then gave up and parked a decent walk away at the ranger station.
**Thanks to OneBusAway, a lot of the waiting (at stops, anyway) can be avoided. I don’t always take advantage, though, mostly because I’m too busy keeping up with children to look up the stop on my phone.

On busing and breastfeeding

I recently read a story on Motherwear’s breastfeeding blog (yeah–so?) about a mom’s experience nursing her child on a public bus. In short, she was harassed by other passengers until the bus driver came to her aid. Yikes.

Despite the fact that breastfeeding is touted as a “hassle-free” feeding option, I haven’t found it to be so. (Great way to bond with my child? Absolutely. Convenient for bus parenting? Not so much.) While it’s true that, unlike moms who drive (well, except this one), bus moms have the option to feed their babies while they travel, this only matters if they actually feel comfortable nursing in public. (And folks, it doesn’t get much more public than Metro.) And unlike moms who drive, breastfeeding bus moms don’t have cars to retreat to when they get where they’re going. So, not feeling comfortable nursing in public means not feeding your baby while you’re out.

I know there are plenty of women who are comfortable nursing in public–probably some who are even comfortable nursing on buses–and others who can feed babies in slings/carriers without anyone being the wiser. I, unfortunately, am not one of those women. For most of my outings with Busling (except those to destinations that offer privacy or are populated with other moms), I either: 1) bring a bottle (which, if done too often, can interfere with nursing) or 2) rush home in time for his next feeding. (Yet another reason why late/slow buses are even less tolerable now than they were when I was a solo bus chick.)

Folks, living by bus schedules can be a challenge; coordinating bus schedules with infant feeding schedules (not to mention naps, diaper changes, and two-year old trips to the potty) takes up more of my brain cycles than should be spent on getting around.

I cherished my first year with Chicklet, and I’m having an absolute blast with Busling. I’m not in any rush for my babies to grow up, but I’m definitely looking forward to the day when the only travel snack* I have to worry about is a box of raisins.

*For them. For me: Black Russians from Three Girls!

A memorial for Memorial Day

On a recent Wednesday, I got to talking with the man in line in front of me at the grocery store. He was an older man, probably a good decade older than my father, and he showed a lot of interest in Busling. His eyes lingered long after the initial “Look at the baby!”, and he asked lots of questions–the kind asked by people who are missing the days when their own were still tiny. So, to keep the conversation from being completely one-sided, I asked the man if he had children.

“Yes, two grandchildren,” he said, “a boy and a girl.” He paused a moment, then added, “My son was murdered on a Metro bus in 1987.”

He told me a few of the details–that it was a robbery, that his son had been counting his recently cashed paycheck in the back and then had refused to surrender the money to the gunman who demanded it. That it was the first ever murder on a Metro bus.

We talked a bit longer–about his grandchildren (who live in Portland but visit him often), and about how he wished his son had used better judgment on that April afternoon 23 years ago–and then went our separate ways.

Our encounter didn’t last longer than five minutes, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. About all the hours and days and years that kind man had spent loving his child, watching him learn to smile and laugh and roll over and crawl; discovering his preferences, his quirks, his weaknesses, his gifts; attending games and graduations; giving advice about important tests and first dates.

I felt compelled to honor his loss by learning all I could about his son–not about the way he was killed, but about who he was, what he cared about, and who would miss him. Here’s what I know:

His name was Larry Curtis Walker. He was 30 when he was killed, an employee at The Plush Pippin at Southcenter. According to his boss, David Jensen, he was wonderful to work with.

“Larry sparkled with integrity and loyalty,” he said in a PI interview a couple of weeks after the murder. “[He was] the best employee I’ve ever had.”

Larry left behind two children, a son and a daughter. His son was six when he died. His daughter, from what I could gather, was younger. Many people knew and cared about Larry, including parents, students, and staff at his son’s school. They started a memorial fund (administered by David Jensen) for his children.

And he had a father who loved him dearly.

And counting

Earlier this month, I celebrated my car-free anniversary. As of March 5th (or was it the 6th?), I’m officially seven years in.

It’s been an eventful seven years. I bought a home, got married, lost my beloved mother to cancer, and had two children. Navigating so many major life events without a car in a city that all but requires one has certainly had its challenges, but it has also integrated the bus into all of my significant recent memories*–and made it impossible for me to imagine my life without Metro. As I wrote in my Real Change column back in 2006, buses have associations for me.

Riding the Water Taxi reminds me of the days I spent with my mother during her last months of life. The first time I rode it to my parents’ Seacrest Park condo the spring after she died, I cried. Sometimes I still do.

The 545 will forever feel romantic to me, since it’s the route Nerd and I rode together in the early days of our courtship. I don’t think I’ve ever looked more forward to a commute–or for that matter, to anything.

The 4 and 27 are my baby buses–the 4 because I rode it to all of my obstetrician appointments–and home from the hospital with Chicklet; the 27 because I rode it to the hospital to deliver Chicklet and home from the hospital with Busling.

And there are many more. The Ballard buses (17, 18) take me to my brother, Jeremy (and also remind me of my rather unfortunate adventure as a ball-gown model); the 55 takes me to my Joelie and the place I still consider home; the 14 is all about TAC meetings, Top Pot (Summit side), and writing group get-togethers at my friend Marchel’s house (Mount Baker side); the 194: Paris, Detroit, and airport goodbyes with Bus Nerd; the 8: Mom again.

And the 36, though it’s not one of my regular routes, reminds me of why I ride: to be a part of my community, and to share my travels with the people I share the world with.

Bring on the next seven.

*The bus is also integrated into many of my not-so-recent memories, like this one and this one.

Busing with two babies (or, “I’ll just catch the next one.”)

I do my best to keep this blog positive, in part because there are enough people in the world complaining about PT (really, there are enough people in the world complaining, period), but mostly because I really do enjoy my life on the bus. There are certainly challenges, but every choice comes with challenges, and I’ll take mine over all of the drawbacks of driving. I digress.

Folks, in addition to keeping it positive, I like to keep it real, and I have to say, I’m feeling pretty challenged right now. The transition from bus parent of one to bus parent of two has been harder than any I have made so far, including the transition from car-owning bus enthusiast to car-free full-time rider–and even from happily childless bus chick to bus mom. Of course, not all of the pain I am feeling right now is about travel; adjusting to parenting two has been tough for me, even (perhaps especially) when we’re in the house all day. Still, I’d be lying if I said that the bus wasn’t contributing to my angst. Peep it:

The first time I rode the bus with both babies, it was for a family outing: Nerd, Chicklet, week-old Busling, and me. Our Goddaughter, Layla, was turning one, and (thanks to the enormous families of both of her parents), her party was held at a community center in the south end. The three-bus trip (48 + 7 + 39) was less than ideal but was doable with two adults, and, despite the fact that Chicklet was a bit antsy during transfers, we managed it pretty well.

A family outing on the 14
Waiting for the 14 for Lunar New Year fun in the ID (smiling because Bus Nerd is along for this ride)

The trip home was more of a challenge, since the 39 only runs once per hour on Sunday evenings. Saying our goodbyes and getting Chicklet appropriately bundled took longer than we expected, and we barely missed the bus we had planned to catch. Had we been traveling without children, this would have been a minor inconvenience, but since we were dealing with a toddler’s bedtime, a newborn’s feeding schedule, a post-partum mom’s fatigue, and a party that ended before the next bus was scheduled to arrive, it was a major inconvenience. We ended up taking a cab home, sans car seats. I worried for the entire (thankfully short) ride.

The second time I rode the bus with both babies, it was to meet my friend Kelley and her daughter at a park in Madrona. On that day, I was parenting solo, and, thanks to a morning errand in the neighborhood, arrived at the 48 stop mere seconds before the bus did. I quickly removed Chicklet from her stroller, but when I tried to fold it down, it wouldn’t budge; a stack of papers I had tossed into the storage basket earlier that morning was in the way.

While I squatted on the sidewalk, trying to un-jam the stroller–with one hand on the baby (to prevent him from tipping out of the sling-like carrier he’s riding in until he gets big enough for the real deal) and one hand on Chicklet (to prevent her from running into the busy street we were waiting near)–the bus pulled up, and folks started boarding. When they finished, I was still struggling.

The driver peered out the door and asked politely, “Are y’all coming?” but I was so embarrassed and discombobulated, I shook my head.

“I’ll just catch the next one,” I said, and then watched as he closed the doors and drove away.

The three of us did, in fact, wait the 15+ minutes for the next bus, and when it arrived, I was prepared: Busling strapped to my chest, bus chick bag on my left shoulder, Chicklet on my left hip, Orca card in my left hand (ready to swipe), stroller folded up and ready to be carried on board with my free right hand. I managed to get everyone–and everything–on and off without incident, but that ride only took us part of the way there. (We still had a short 2 ride, which I skipped in favor of a medium-distance walk, to go.) By the time we finally made it to the park, I was stressed and tired, and we were late to meet our friends.

Since that enjoyable trip, we’ve gone on several outings as a threesome, with (thankfully) much less drama. For one thing, I don’t always bring the stroller for Chicklet; she’s capable of walking several blocks on her own. Whether or not I bring it depends on how far we have to walk–and whether I’ll need to contain her–when we get where we’re going. For another, I usually don’t arrive at stops right when the bus does. When I get there a couple of minutes early, I don’t have to rush to get ready to board and am therefore better prepared to deal with any equipment malfunctions that may arise.

Of course, getting anywhere on time (let alone a couple of minutes early) with a newborn and a two-year old is a feat in itself. This is one of the many reasons I am grateful that I can walk to many of my regular destinations. When it’s not raining, we walk to church, to the library (it’s across the street!), to the park, to the doctor’s office, to restaurants and coffee shops, to grocery and drug stores, to community centers, and to friends’ houses. On occasion, we even walk downtown.

And so, here’s hoping I’ll get to reap at least one reward of the bus (or not) parenting lifestyle: A speedy return to my pre-Busling form.

Score one for the bus ladies

At 6:20 on Sunday morning, we welcomed a new member to our bus family. True to the predictions of the bus ladies (and everyone else), it’s a boy. His stats:

Name: Quincy Tonderai
Nickname: Busling
Birth date: 1/24/2010
Weight: 9 lbs, 5.5 ounces (And we thought his sister was big!)
Length: 21.25 inches

New Baby Busling

We rode to the hospital in a cab (door-to-door in five minutes) and took our baby Busling home on our family’s favorite route. (It’s a pretty long walk from Swedish to the 27 stop, but we had missed the 4 and were eager to get home to Chicklet.) Like his sister, he took his first bus ride in a car seat, since babies aren’t allowed to leave the hospital without one, but–also like his sister–he’ll soon be taking all his rides in a carrier.

Since the trip home, we’ve been bus free, resting and spending some QT with our sweet QT.