Yesterday morning, a close friend of mine called and asked if I’d like to go do something with her and her two daughters.  Since yesterday was my sixth day of vacation, and the girls had run out of things to break, toys to fight over,  games to play and hair to pull, I couldn’t get us dressed and out of the house fast enough (as usual, the remaining clothing was put on in the car).  My friend and I decided to head to the Houston Zoo, as we hadn’t visited in over a year and we used to go regularly when our four girls were little.  In fact, our younger daughters celebrated their first birthdays there (they are born a day apart), so it’s practically a tradition.

I couldn’t help but get emotional about how much the girls had grown since we first took them years ago.  (Well, I get emotional about greeting card commercials, so that’s not saying much).  My friend and I marvelled about not only how much the girls have grown, but how drastically the trip logistics have changed.  My heart brims with happiness when we walk in carrying merely a purse and a camera, compared to how much baggage we had to heft back then.  Those Mt. Everest climbers had nothing on us (and they had Sherpas!)!  Extreme mountaineers didn’t have to pack wet wipes, favorite binkys and blankeys, extra formula or breast milk in a temperature-regulated pack, several diapers (the exact number of diapers determine by polynomial algorithms and geometric equations calculated to not overfill the bag, but also account for our children’s bowel cycles, then multiply by the distance to-and-from our targeted destination), spare clothes for when the diapers didn’t work so well (ALWAYS in public), non-messy, healthy snacks that are color-coordinated with the kids’ outfits, non-staining sugar-free drinks in environmentally safe boxes, cameras, video-cameras, spare batteries, scented bags to hold soiled clothing till we got home, books, crayons, toys, bug spray, sunscreen, tissues, medication, spare axle for the stroller, etc. 

In fact, now that I think about it, those mountaineers had it EASY.  They were going someplace cool, quiet, with perhaps a storm or some ice to worry about. 

Wusses.

My friend and I also marvelled over the fact that we now can linger at each exhibit, and actually learn about the animals, instead of hollering “YESthoseareBIGelephantssweetiequitpokingyoursister” as we pushed our expedition-in-a-diaperbag-laden strollers at top speeds.  On the contrary, this trip our girls were engaged, interested and their commentary was priceless; Eva stated matter-of-factly that the elephant house smells just like her brother’s room, all four girls ‘ewwwwwed’ at a proudly-pooping giraffe, and they chortled merrily when a baby Galapagos Tortoise attempted to bite off their wormy fingers through the glass. 

Yesterday we wandered the zoo grounds for almost four hours, and only hit the restroom once.  How far we’ve come from those days when we’d pitifully surrender after a mere 53 minutes.  We’d wave our white flags, simpering while all four girls were in full wail, trying to ignore the child fingering something she picked up from the petting zoo, and everyone is sticky.  We’d then carry (the stroller was too full) our whiney, tired, smelly children past the lions, tigers and bears (who looked upon us with pity), through the turnstiles, hop over the surface-of-the-sun parking lot, pour ourselves into volcanic vehicles, and then give ragged sighs of relief as the kids passed out cold the moment the tires hit the pavement. 

Ahhh, sweet memories. 

Of course, our most recent trip to the zoo wasn’t all roses.  I still had to carry my tired, 50+ pound 4-year-old over what felt like 14 miles (I need a Sherpa!!!!).  We placated some mini-tantrums, put a stop to bickering, and got sticky from eating ice cream.  In comparison to years ago it was a walk in the park.  Make that, a walk in the park without the baggage.

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