By the end of the day, I’d lost it completely.  My façade of patience had melted, and I trudged through the hot hordes of Saturday zoo-goers, wielding the black double stroller like a weapon.

Country Girls in the City

But taking the girls to New York City for the weekend was an ambitious plan.  “Only people who aren’t New Yorkers call it New York City,” said one Manhattan friend drily.

We made no pretense of being New Yorkers.  We were country mice, and we were pushing the envelope, traveling beyond our Vermont comfort zone.

For weeks, I’d told the girls about the trip– how we’d drive in and see the bridges and skyscrapers, how we’d visit relatives, play in Central Park, and go to the Bronx Zoo.  I sang “Mama’s Taking Us to the Zoo Tomorrow” as we fantasized about our favorite animals.  To ramp up anticipation, we got online and browsed the Zoo website, watching little movies of baby lion cubs tussling and squirrel monkeys racing vine-to-vine.  Ava wanted to see a zebra, Carmen couldn’t wait for the lions, and I preferred the Big Bears.

I printed out the Zoo map.  I was in my element.  I am, by nature, a planner-tending towards “continuous, compulsive projection into the future,” as spiritual teacher Eckhart Tolle puts it.  My monkey mind leaps one month, one week, one day ahead, rather than staying absorbed in the here and now.

My children, on the other hand, have no need for plans.  They would’ve been content to stay home on my lap and watch the baby lions on the webcam.  Instead, we packed our bags and car snacks and left behind our green world for 48 hours.

I wasn’t expecting much sleep, and I was right.  Friday night the 2-year-old stayed up till 10:30, wired on the constant hum of the city.  We were crashing at a friend’s apartment on 110^th street, a 12^th floor sky-box towering above horns and sirens, buzzing with the pulse of people packed together, so much energy I woke at 5 am as if something had shocked my eyelids open.

subway to da Bronx

By noon, when we got to the Zoo, I’d already been up for seven hours.  No need for coffee, just jacked up on New York.  We’d braved the subway to the Bronx, dragging the enormous double stroller up and down the stairwells, each holding a terrified girl in our arms.

The Zoo was packed on a sunny spring weekend.  It was hot, and the Big Bears had retreated into their dens, hulking shapes in the shadows.  We did spy a shaggy Polar Bear lumbering along a fake ice floe.  He was majestic, and it seemed mean to subject him to 85-degree weather and gaping crowds.

At this point, the girls were more excited about ice cream than they were about the animals.  We scarfed down vanilla cones, then, fueled by sugar, pushed on to the sea lions.  “See it?!”  I cried, pointing to the baby sea lion sunning himself like a big sleek slug.  We watched for a few minutes, but all he did was stretch his neck up.  Ava was keeping a tally of animals and wanted MORE, so we sped through the Monkey House into the Madagascar exhibit.

Here’s my advice about Zoo trips with kids.  Go first thing in the morning, because the exciting animals snooze at midday.  The three baby lion cubs (so playful on the internet!) were distant tawny spots, sleeping on a faraway rock in the “African Plains.”

WHERE are the lions?

“SEE, there are the LIONS!” I shouted to the girls, but they couldn’t really see.  Yes, some real zebras grazed amidst wandering peacocks, but my children were nonplussed.  They were hot and tired, running on fumes, and the nap-less toddler was cranky as a crocodile.  We’d gone to New York City, we were at the Zoo, but my feet hurt and I wanted someplace to lie down.

Sometimes anticipation is more potent than reality.  I’m not saying I was disappointed, but I wonder what lessons I’m teaching my children by the build-up to trips, birthdays, and holidays.  Can’t we just live life day-to-day, rather than waiting for some fabulous future?  Why don’t we just stay put?

But something fabulous did happen at the Zoo.  I was hauling my flailing two-year-old through the Congo Gorilla Encounter when we actually encountered some gorillas.  The keepers had just brought food, and the females sat by the window in their jungle habitat, munching on celery.  A baby gorilla crouched by his mother, content and absorbed in his snack.  The mothers were black, hairy and naked, unfazed by the throngs of faces peering in, snapping photos with their phones, holding up their children and shouting “DO YOU SEE!?”  With nipples bare and bellies hanging down, the apes exuded a Buddha-like calm amidst the human spectacle.

How I wished I were a gorilla then, happy to eat celery, free of mental torment!  How did we evolve from these peaceful animals into stroller-pushing, texting 21^st century Homo Sapiens?  Then the huge Silverback gorilla, sire of this particular group, loped slowly down to the window.  He gathered up all the other gorillas’ celery stalks and took them away to a tiny pond behind the bamboo forest.  There he sat, while we watched, dipping each piece into the brackish water before he ate it.

Tags:   anticipation · Bronx Zoo · Eckhart Tolle · New York · Parenting1 Comment