No handicap access, which means no stroller access. Which means down the 4 flights of stairs, and up and over the turnstyle with B by myself. It's not tragic, but it's definitely tricky.
The Village
I was starving, so I headed over to Bleecker to check out a highly rated gluten-free restaurant. My wise friend Mallory tried to steer me away, but I pressed forward, delighted by the idea of having a slice of pizza in NYC like a normal person.
This is what I got. A limp, purple pizza with what appears to be a cancerous mole on it. It was the WORST FREAKING THING I HAVE EVER TRIED TO EAT IN MY ENTIRE LIFE. And I have eaten some weird stuff in my day. The "pizza sauce" was some sort of disgusting olive tapenade instead of a tomato based sauce.
The server took my pic, and it turned out just like the pizza--underwhelming.
Moving on. I really wanted to shop, but all of the shops were up stairs, down stairs, the size of my closet, etc. I was slowly realizing a valuable lesson I will touch on a minute.
I did find a cute little bookstore where B picked out a Curious George book. She calls monkeys "munnicks," and always laughs about George's silly antics.
After playing for a few hours, we headed back to the hotel for a nap. B is totally behind on her sleep, and is now boasting rings under her eyes. She's a party girl like her mama, but she's starting to slow down. I'm definitely looking forward to getting back home and just relaxing with friends.
Once Lance got home from work, we headed to NYC to the Shake Shack for dinner. It's near the flatiron building that I accidentally referred to as the gridiron building. Close enough.
Heading back to JC for the night.
Back to my thoughts on convenience. I need convenience. When it was just the two of us, I could have cared less about this. I would have stayed anywhere, anytime, and been up for anything. But with a kid--Manhattan is a tough concrete jungle, yo! When we were at dinner the other night, I was trying to explain the appeal of Jersey City, and it kept coming back to this: I need to be near a Target. I need a mini fridge, and a room with a microwave. I need to be close to easy public transportation. Everything in the city seems to be designed to weed out people with kids--all of the restaurants are 12 X 12, long waits, no kids menu, no high chairs, no restrooms, etc.
I love the suburbs. I love the sprawl. I love our backyard. I love my car.
I love NYC, and I've enjoyed every single minute here--but man do I miss Target. Lady Liberty ain't got nuthin' on the bullseye!