First, a thumbnail sketch to keep you from nodding off from all the boring details: We live in a subdivision. Our subdivision's main road opens onto a very busy street. A developer wants to build a 500-unit apartment complex a quarter of a mile up the road from our entrance. This would add an estimated 3,300 car trips per day to the already congested road our subdivision empties onto.
Wasn't nearly as succinct as I had originally intended. My apologies.
Anyway, as you can probably imagine, the residents around here are up in arms over the whole thing. They will be attending a public meeting with the developer, the city's planning board, and the city's zoning board downtown tomorrow. And Zed, Zoey, and I will be there. Because you can't have a protest without a few crying/screaming kids.
So the lady who spearheaded the whole thing stopped by my house today at 2:15 PM. She told me the meeting would start at 3:30 PM. I told her I'd see her there, wondering why she just didn't call me since it's not until tomorrow.
You can see where this is heading, can't you?
Zoey awoke from her nap at 2:30 PM EXTREMELY CRANKY. Some days, she wakes up so sweetly it's like she's exhaling sunshine. And other days... you just say, "Good afternoon," put the TV on Noggin, and give her fifteen to thirty minutes of alone time. This was one of those days.
At 2:45 PM, the phone rang. It was the protest leader calling to tell me the boards were running early and the meeting would probably begin around 3:00 PM. That's when I finally realized the protest was today and not tomorrow. I can be such an idiot sometimes.
So that gave me fifteen minutes to pack two bottles for Zed, pack a snack and drink for Zoey, try to get Zoey in a better mood, and drive twenty minutes to downtown.
No problem!
Actually, all the years of being a professional procrastinator and dealing with Ella's chronic tardiness prepared me well for today. We entered the meeting room at 3:05 PM, although it had already started. The board members glared at me as I clumsily navigated the stroller and Zoey through the door. I could tell they were appalled I would dare show up late, let alone with two kids in tow.
So we sat near the door in case we had to make a getaway. I took a few toys out of the diaper bag for Zed when I realized I had not brought anything for Zoey. Zed's still at the age where he can be entertained by his own hands or your smile. But not Zoey. There was no way I was going to occupy her for an hour and still respectfully listen to the speakers.
Luckily, the lady in charge came over and gave me a nametag sticker sheet. "Put one on," she said, "and put one on the kids, too." I obliged and gave the rest of the sheet to Zoey, who l-o-v-e-s stickers. I figured this would be good for about ten minutes worth of amusement.
I was close. The fun lasted for nine minutes.
After that, Zoey began squirming around in her seat. I couldn't blame her. Hearing a developer drone on would've bored me too if I didn't have a vested interest. The jerk acted like he was doing us a favor, stating he only wanted to put fifteen apartment units per acre when the city ordinance in most areas (but not ours) allows for up to eighteen units per acre.
Let me preface the next bit by letting you know Zoey doesn't know how to whisper. She doesn't even have an "inside voice." So when she began talking, most everyone in the room could hear her. It started out with a simple "I'm bored, Daddy" before moving on to "Wear your sticker this way" as she rearranged my nametag countless times.
Every few minutes, she would wrap her arm around my neck and say, "I love you, Daddy," because she could see those actions were receiving favorable responses (smiles) from the protestors. Just give this kid an audience. What she didn't notice were the scowls she was receiving from the board members. This went on for about forty minutes, despite my hushed threats and bribes.
At 3:45 PM, the protestors were able to approach the microphone and voice their concerns about the complex to the board. At 3:50 PM, Zed decided to voice his concerns; he began screaming. I knew he was hungry, so I began preparing his bottle. I figured the board members would cut Zed some slack until I got his bottle in his mouth.
I was wrong.
One of the board members stopped the speaker at the time, turned to me, and said, "Sir, you and your children will have to leave." Wow. Seven months old and Zed's already getting thrown out of public forums. Is this kid going to be an activist or what? Damn the man, Zed! Damn the man!
So I took the gang outside and fed Zed while watching the proceedings on closed-circuit television. Zoey needed to "tinkle" and Zed was wet, so we headed off to the men's room. We entered the men's room and there was no changing table to be found. It's sad that even in this day and age, you're more likely to find a twenty-dollar bill lying on the floor in a men's room than you are a baby changing station.
So the three of us went into the handicapped stall. If you think I'm insane for piling toilet paper on a changing station, you should see what I do to a toilet. God only knows what vermin are lying in wait on those toilet seats (this is not a slam against the handicapped; it is a slam against people, particularly men, in general). I immediately set out constructing a layer of toilet paper so thick Zoey could've slept comfortably on it. I heard Zoey undoing the Velcro on her sandals so I immediately started screaming like Rainman, "We don't take off our shoes in public restrooms! We don't take off our shoes in public restrooms! We don't take off our shoes in public restrooms!" She looked at me like I was crazy (which I am), but at least she kept her shoes on. She still had to take her pants and panties off, though. Pick your battles.
I turned to change Zed's diaper in his stroller. Halfway through, Zoey yelled out, "Help me, Daddy!" I turned around and saw she had rolled half a roll of toilet paper onto the floor, as she was unable to cut it with the jagged edge on the dispenser. I gave her some fresh toilet paper and resumed my diaper duty. I was putting Zed's new diaper on when I heard the four words no father wants to hear (because they're never followed with anything good): "Look at me, Daddy!"
I turned to find Zoey hanging from the handicapped rail, naked from the waist down (except her shoes, thank God!), climbing up the bathroom wall so she could try to flip around the rail. It's times such as these I wish we didn't expose her to the things we do. So I pulled down the monkey, dressed her, and washed her hands for, oh, I don't know, fourteen minutes or so, and returned to the waiting area. I found out that the zoning board unanimously passed the developer's request while the planning board split their vote, which means the whole thing will have to go before City Council next month. Which means we get to do this all again! But at least I have a month to prepare. And I know the date this time.
Wow. 1,300+ words on taking my kids to a zoning board meeting and a public restroom. I need an editor.
GHS: 11 total (3 for preparing to go to the meeting, 1 for the actual meeting, and 7 for the men's room incident)
Civil Disobedience
