Best Way to Go Down the Subway Stairs with Stroller

stairsstollerWhat is the best way to go down the subway stairs with a child and a stroller?

This is one of those questions that people without kids think is idiotic, “these crazy parents over-think everything.”

But parents think it’s a great question and invariably have the answer and a few tips.
I recently was taking my two-year-old daughter into Manhattan; she’s a good walker but walking several blocks necessitated the stroller.
When we got to the F train stairs, here were my options:
The Slow Roll 
With my daughter’s hand in my right hand and the stroller in my left, walk down the stairs step-by-step. Of course, if it is busy and you are taking up two-thirds of the staircase as you amble down the stairs, you will need to dodge the daggers coming from the eyes of busy commuters because your little brat added a few more seconds to their commute.
The Loaf of Bread
Grab your kid under one arm, stroller in the other, and hurry down the stairs. This is dangerous, as a flailing child could send you off-balance and tumbling down the stairs, and even if you do get down safely you’ll need to dodge the daggers coming from the eyes of busy commuters angry at someone who’d carry this darling angel like a loaf of bread.
The Bounce
Pop a wheelie, and bounce on the back wheels down the steps one-by-one. Note: Depending on the weight of you child and the amount of junk you keep underneath (I usually pack like I’m loaded for bear), this method may render the stroller inoperable; since the SoHo Maclaren mechanic went out of business, you’ll need to buy a new stroller.
The Muscle
Just grab the left and right sides of the stroller with your child strapped in, yank it up (thanks to the awkward position you end up lifting entirely with your back), and muscle her down the stairs. Make sure your chiropractor has a tenth-visit-free option if this is your lifting choice.
The Damsel in Distress
Stand at the top of the stairs looking helpless until someone helps you portage the loaded strolled down. Note: This does not work with men.
I opted for “The Muscle” ….then a cab home.
How do you get down the subway stairs?
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I am a Patient Boy, I Wait, I Wait, I Wait, I Wait.

bouncy-line1The New York Times had a piece about New York City parents having to go on waiting lists for schools, camps, classes, and day cares. It was spot on, but I can think of a few waits they missed. (Granted, these are #parkslopeproblems, but #parkslopeproblems are my problems):

  • Swings at the playground – Does that 8 year old kid really need to drape himself over the swing and dangle for 23 minutes?
  • Frozen yogurt – People, figure out your toppings before you get on line…and yes, those white things are mochi.
  • Brunch – I know, everyone has this problem, but I thought going to brunch at 10:30 AM was supposed to eliminate this wait, but apparently every other parent with a ticking time bomb child has the same idea. And whatever puritanical A.H. who said you cannot get bloody mary before noon on Sundays never had kids.
  • Haircut – If I don’t want my kid to get a fireman’s cut, I need to make an appointment a week in advance?
  • Santa – I would rather be on a wait list than go on that interminable line again. At least if we were wait listed, we could just go to our safety holiday character at Pratt.
  • The street fair bouncy castle – You try telling a 5 year old juiced on cotton candy that a 30 minute wait for 3 minutes of jumping isn’t worth it.
  • ANYTHING interactive at a museum

That’s When I Reached for My Revolver

pistolsAfter the horrible events in Newtown, CT, something occurred to me that caused a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, and that feeling emanated  from a small box on the high shelf in my closet.

I am not much of a liberal prosthelytizer, but my heart bleeds, more often then I’d like. Children, the environment,  equal rights, seniors, dead pigeons, you name it, I bleed for it.  In an odd paradox, I am also a gun owner. I have 2 single shot nickel plated dueling pistols.  They were a wedding gift for my parents 50 years ago, then they were a wedding gift to me.  My parents were not gun “enthusiasts,” but they both grew up in the midwest, and had some familiarity with hunting, so owning a guns seemed very normal to them. The wedding gift was meant as a joke- dueling pistols for the newlyweds. Ha.  When I was a kid on vacation in Virginia we’d shoot cans with the pistols, or more aptly, we shoot at cans. These guns were remarkable hard to shoot straight.  But I admit, they were fun.

The pistols went with the other unused wedding gifts (a bread maker, a crystal caviar dish) sat in my closet for years. I never gave them a second thought, until the tragic events at Newtown. Hearing about Sandy Hook Elementary made my heart bleed again, but then it nearly stopped.  In the home of my 5 year old son, and my 2 year old daughter were 2 lethal pistols.  No they weren’t loaded, there was no ammunition in the house. Nonetheless it terrified me.  I did not want guns in my house.

I thought about just throwing them out or selling them.  But I did not want someone else to use them to harm others or themselves. I thought about tossing them in the Gowanus canal (the only body of water in the world that is 90 percent guns.)  But I’m not a criminal, I shouldn’t have to “dispose” of the evidence.  Someone suggested taking them to the police.  Maybe that was the best idea, but it seems like an invitation for an interrogation. I looked for gun buy backs (which aren’t nearly as common as one would think) but even the thought of carrying the guns in public was unsettling. I ended up taking them apart, taking out the hammer assembly entirely, rendering them no more lethal than the crystal caviar dish.