In Columbus, we often have to deal with weather that is too unpleasant to be out in. Summer is hot and muggy, so little kids can’t be out for too long. Winter is cold, cold, cold, and again kids can’t be out for long. Usually we get about a dozen good days each year where the temperature is moderate, and it’s actually not raining.

Because of this, many of us here depend on indoor play areas. There aren’t a lot of them, but one of the rites of passage for a Columbus mom is finding where in the world she can take her kid to play and get out of the house.

There are the costly ones, of course. Gymboree, Little Gym, and local knock-offs. Even our local children’s science museum (COSI) has an awesome play area for the under-5 crowd. COSI’s play area is worth the annual membership alone.

But for those unwilling or unable to afford these options, Columbus has one other alternative: the mall play areas. They are usually large, have lots of brightly colored objects to climb over, under and through, and best of all, they’re free.

Three of our local malls have large play areas for kids, and all three are generally packed around lunchtime on a weekday. The edges are lined with strollers and moms chatting on their phones or reading books. The inside is pure chaos, with little legs racing around the area, jumping from structure to structure, and happy screams echoing through the mall.

The closest to us is Tuttle Mall, and yesterday was a day to get out and let Cordy run out some of her energy. We were both sick of being in the house, and she was clearly in need of a large area to run around in.

The Tuttle play area has a space theme. Lots of planets to climb on, a shuttle to crawl through and slide off of, and a floor covered in stars.

The only problem I have with this place is the lack of thought that went into the entrances/exits.

Soft, foamy floor to break falls? Check.

Climbing toys that are rounded and soft, with no sharp edges? Check.

Three wide, easy to access exits spread across the space? Hey, wait a minute!

Yes, the play area has three wide openings to allow people to enter and exit. One entrance is a ramp, the other two are made up of 2 stairs. In other words, nothing that would even stop a crawler from making an escape.

There are no gates at any of these entrances. And two of them are slightly hidden behind curves in the play area. While there is ample seating along the edge of the play area, I find I cannot enjoy this seating because Cordelia is fully aware of each exit and enjoys making a break for them any chance she gets.

This usually results in me breaking into a sprint to get across the play area to grab her before she gets too far outside the area. Then she will throw a fit when I grab her and turn her around to put her back in the play area. After about 5 of these attempted jail-breaks, I decide it’s time to go home, and she howls in protest, because now she actually wants to play in the play area.

While it annoys me that I’m constantly chasing my daughter and forcing her back into the play area, I also think these three entrances are a huge safety problem. The play area is slightly recessed, and there are fake plants surrounding the area. It would be very easy for someone to lure a child out of the area and take them, before anyone would notice. Columbus is a fairly safe city, but kidnappers and sickos are everywhere, and all of the sad stories in the news are proof that you can never be too safe anymore.

Even when I watch my daughter at all times, she occasionally slips behind a climbing structure and disappears from view. A child could easily get out of the play area and get lost in the mall. There’s a large anchor store nearby, plus several small stores with bright lights and colors to attract small eyes.

Why are designers so dumb to make a play area with so many exits? And if they feel that people need access from three sides, why not put gates up to keep the kids inside?

And why am I asking all of you this? I should be sending this to the folks at Tuttle Mall. I think I’m going to do that right now.

Last night started as an evening like any other. Watching American Idol and laughing at the auditions (to use Aaron’s favorite saying, “Do these people not have friends?”), surfing the web a bit, and doing some chores.

Aaron loaded the dishwasher and got it started, then got the sink full of bottle parts ready to wash. I called him in to the living room to read a post I had found. Earlier, we had discovered a slander site about my former (his current) company, and we were amusing ourselves reading all of the gossip and hate spewing from the anonymous posters. Everyone knows the company is in a death spiral. We then sat and chatted about what we read for about 10-15 minutes.

Aaron then walked back into the kitchen, and suddenly I heard, “Shit!”

I asked what was wrong, and he only answered with, “I’m a moron, that’s what’s wrong!”

I walked in to find our kitchen flooded. At first I thought it might be from the dishwasher malfunctioning. Then I saw the sink. “I left the water running and forgot to turn it off,” Aaron explained. The kitchen sink was full, and the water was running off onto the counters and the floor. On one side, the water was running off into the trash can (useful, that), and on the other, the water was going to the floor and inching its way towards the living room carpet.

At first, I thought: eh, not a big deal. It’s a little water on the counters, and some pooled on the floor. Aaron was really upset, but I found the entire thing funny, because I didn’t think it was anything to get upset over. I didn’t realize just how much water could come out of a faucet in 15 minutes.

I gathered up a few towels, handed one to Aaron, and began putting them on the floor. But those few towels were no match for the water. Each towel would soak up the water until full, but there was still water where the towel had been.

Aaron ran upstairs and grabbed all of our bathroom towels and brought them back down. We each took one side of the sink, cleared everything off, and began mopping up more water from the counters. It was everywhere, and it was clearly going to require every last towel in the house.

Once my side of the counter was dry, I started to dry the floor under it, but noticed water kept dripping from the edge of a drawer next to the sink. “How is there still water dripping? The counter is dry.”

I got my answer when I pulled open the drawer and was splashed by a wave of water. The entire drawer was filled with water. I looked at Aaron, with a large wet spot on my shirt, and said, “I think there may be more water.” I grabbed a cup and started bailing the drawer out quickly. Once the water level was lower, we pulled the drawer out, dumped the contents into the sink, and propped it up to dry.

Then I looked in the cabinet below the drawer. “Aw, hell. There’s more water in here!” Everything was emptied from the cabinet, and it was also dried out.

After a half hour of soaking up and mopping up water, the flood was contained and the kitchen started to dry out.

Luckily, not much was lost to the flood. Several boxes were soaked, but their contents inside were protected by foil or plastic wrapping. I once again gave praise to The Container Store for their airtight plastic kitchen containers, which protected the sugar, flour, and tea bags.

The cookbooks, however, did not fare as well. I’m sorry Betty Crocker and A Man, A Plan, and A Can, but you were not strong enough to face the amount of water that hit you. The bottom halves of your pages are now yellowish and wavy. I tried to dry you out, and although you are still readable, you will never be the same.

Of course, it’s not much of a loss, I guess, since we never even cracked open those books. Good thing we’re not cooks!

*stepping up to the microphone shyly*

Hello. My name is Christina, and I’m addicted to kids’ TV. I enjoy watching my daughter’s cartoons and shows. I realized I had a problem yesterday morning, when I was up before anyone else. I switched on the TV, and instinctively turned it to Playhouse Disney. Even though my daughter was still asleep, I watched Bear in the Big Blue House. I knew she wasn’t in the room, but I sat there and watched the entire episode.

I’ve always been a TV addict, especially cartoons. Just read the first entry in my baby book for confirmation: “June 28, 1976 (1 week old) – Christina already likes watching the TV”. Seriously, folks, that’s what it says; 7 days old, and already hooked.

As a child, I was a big fan of cartoons. It started innocently enough with He-Man, She-Ra, and the Smurfs.

Then I got sucked into the Dungeons & Dragons cartoon, and G.I. Joe. Inspector Gadget and Voltron were then added to my lineup, along with My Little Pony, Belle and Sebastian, and Rainbow Brite. OK, so I was an uncommitted tomboy.

In the mid-80’s, the cartoons kept coming. Jem, Ghostbusters (the REAL Ghostbusters, of course), Transformers, Silverhawks, MASK, Danger Mouse, and Thundercats. Oh, how I loved Thundercats!

Each Halloween I would dress as a character from one of my favorite cartoon shows. Thanks to my grandmother’s excellent sewing skills and a lot of cornstarch for my hair, I was an awesome looking Wiley-Kit in 4th grade! No longer was a generic witch or a simple white- sheet ghost good enough for me.

Once I hit the late-80’s, I was beginning to grow too “old” for cartoons. I was in junior high, and I was supposed to be more concerned with make-up, hairstyles, fashion, and after-school specials on TV. But I couldn’t give up the habit. I watched Rescue Rangers, Darkwing Duck, and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I also enjoyed live-action kids shows, like Hey Dude and Kids Incorporated (sing it with me folks: “K-I-D-S, Kids In-corporated!”).

High school was a big change for me. More responsibilities, more homework, and more acting like a grown-up and thinking about the future. But for my secret love of cartoons, nothing changed. Oh sure, I watched 90210 and Melrose Place like every other TV obsessed teen. However, I wonder just how many teens were hurrying home after school to catch Sailor Moon and Animaniacs?

Even in college, I continued my animation obsession. Animaniacs and Tiny Toons continued to be my favorites, although I was branching out into anime thanks to Sailor Moon.

And now. Now I have a child, and I’m watching Bear in the Big Blue House without her. Can I really call myself an adult at this point? I mean, half the time when I let Cordelia watch TV, I’m really the one sitting there watching Blue’s Clues, Higglytown Heroes, and Dora while she’s on the floor with her back to the TV looking at her books.

(Of course, not the Wiggles. We both love the Wiggles, and that kid would fight off a gang of irate midget clowns to get to see her Wiggles.)

So yes, I admit that I’m a kids’ TV addict. I’m not proud of it, but I’m not about to get rid of the TV, either. I admire the strength of those like Dutch and Wood, who can survive without the lure of the TV and raise their daughter in a mostly TV-free environment. I can’t do it. I need my TV.

I try to limit the amount of time Cordy watches TV. We have plenty of TV-free time when we play, sing, chase each other, and read books. There is a little bit of time when I use the TV to distract Cordy so I can accomplish something (like laundry). But most of our TV time is together-time, and I’m stupidly happy to sing along with the characters on the screen and clap my hands with Cordy as we watch together. I’m seriously considering putting together a workout video for moms using footage from Wiggles DVDs.

So there it is. I’ve come clean about my obsession. I’m not the cool, hip mommy people might think me to be (then again, no one probably thought I was a cool, hip mommy to begin with). I’m actually an overgrown child who still loves the innocence and “good triumphs evil” mentality of children’s programming. And I will still be first in line if they ever put Animaniacs out on DVD.

Whew. That felt good.

God, I’m such a geek.

An open letter to Best Western Grant Park:

I have waited a week since our trip to Chicago to write to you to share my experience staying at your hotel. The wait was to ensure that I expressed my true feelings and not those in the heat of the moment.

We have stayed at the Best Western Grant Park for 5 years in a row. My husband attends a stage combat workshop that is held right across the street, so your hotel is very convenient for us. In years past, we have never had any troubles other than occasionally needing more towels. This year, however, we had a very different experience.

It began with check-in. As we unloaded all of our luggage, we looked for a luggage cart to make it easier to haul everything to our room. Our party consisted of three adults and one toddler. If you didn’t know, a toddler generally requires luggage equaling 2 adults just for that one small being. However, we were informed that the luggage cart was in use. The luggage cart, as in, one cart for the entire 9 floor hotel.

Getting our luggage to our room was also a challenge. While there are usually two elevators for the hotel, one was out of service for our entire stay. And the one working elevator had a strange quirk: when going down, it would always stop on the second floor, before then going on to the first. All of this led to painfully long waits to get to and from the room.

It was made even worse when the one working elevator suddenly stopped working, right before we were able to load our luggage on it. So we carried large suitcases up 7 flights of stairs to our room (plus a toddler who’s just barely walking). I understand that you have a fitness center to promote healthy living, but I didn’t expect strenuous exercise to be a requirement for our stay.

Of course, the one working elevator started working once again as soon as we were finished unloading the car. We quickly settled into our two comfortable rooms and began to unpack. My toddler started exploring the room and quickly found several hazards, such as a knob on the dresser that was held on by electrical tape and easily came off in her hands. Nothing like a choking hazard to make us feel welcome.

We also were greeted by a loud chirping sound in one of the rooms. We called for assistance, and 20 minutes later the maintenance man came in and took our smoke alarm away for a new battery. Maybe you should stick by the general rule to change the batteries every 6 months?

It was around 7:30pm at this point, so we went out to eat. Upon arriving back to the hotel (and waiting a crazy long time to use the elevator again) we were given one more surprise: the key cards to one of our rooms didn’t work. This required another trip down the elevator to get the keys re-coded, and then back up. They worked, and we prepared my daughter for bed.

Once she was ready for bed, we put her in her portable crib, and then went next door to the other room so she could fall asleep without distraction (we brought our baby monitors so we could hear her if she needed anything). But when we tried to get back into the room, the key cards would not work. Again. Another trip down the slow elevator, and back up with newly-coded key cards. They still wouldn’t work.

At this point, I was starting to panic, as my child was locked in a room with no way for me to get to her. Another trip down to the front desk, and a call was placed to maintenance. The man responded with “Yeah, I’ll get to it eventually.” The front desk worker, bless her, was kind enough to reiterate the importance of this request, yelling into the walkie-talkie, “No! They’ve got a baby in there by itself! You hurry!”

About 10 minutes later the maintenance man arrived and cleaned the door’s card reader. He tried the (newly-coded, again) cards, and they worked. My mother was going to be sleeping in the room with my daughter, so I went to the other room and went to sleep.

Around 3am, I heard my daughter crying, so I went next door to try to help. Only my key card wouldn’t work. Again. My mother let me in, and after we got my daughter calmed down, I returned to the other room to go back to sleep.

In the morning, we got the key cards re-coded again, and they didn’t work. They coded them another time, and they didn’t work. We left to go sight-seeing at that point, and asked the staff to please have it fixed by the time we came back.

When we arrived back to the hotel, we were given the key cards and told all should be fine. We went to our room (slow wait for the elevator…Again), and to our shock and awe, the key cards once again didn’t work. Another trip downstairs, and this time we were told we would have to change rooms. After being out all day, and having a tired child who really needed a nap, we now had to drag everything to another room?

The first room offered was nowhere near the other room we had, so we insisted on something closer. They finally gave us a room across the hall from the other room. We went upstairs and spent most of an hour moving everything from one room to the other. The luggage cart was once again nowhere to be found. Finally, though, everything was moved, and we no longer had key card problems.

The hotel advertised wireless internet, and we were looking forward to taking advantage of it. However, we were never able to connect to it. Friends in other rooms also couldn’t connect. It seems the wireless network was not quite all that was promised. Luckily, we had an Ethernet cable, so we could connect.

Check-out day was a horror. Check-out time was noon, so we were packed and ready to load up at 10:30. We called and requested the cars from the valet. He told us they would be ready in 10 minutes. I went downstairs to ask for the mysterious luggage cart. But once again, it was in use. I asked if I could have it once the others were done, and the staff person said to me, “We only have one luggage cart, and others are using it. So forget about it.” Classy.

It seems there was a Bears game in town that day, and so while we were checking out, many people were checking in. This made the single elevator nearly impossible to use. We waited through several cycles of up and down, waiting for a chance for the elevator to be empty enough to put a few bags and one person on. 4 passes of the elevator later, we got a nearly empty elevator. We threw as many bags on as possible, and I climbed on and hovered over the stack of luggage precariously, trying not to fall into the nice couple sharing the elevator with me and my stuff.

When we got to the lobby, we looked for the cars. Only one was there. Where was the other car? And for that matter, where was the valet? 10 minutes later, the valet appears, and we ask politely where the other car is. It had been 45 min. since we called. “Too bad, I’m busy. You’ll just have to wait,” was his reply.

A few more trips up and down the elevator (with one person in the room at all times with our now cranky toddler), along with a few trips down the stairs with the most damage-resistant bags, and we had everything in the lobby. 30 min. later the other car appears, and we load up. The valet receives no tip. If it had been possible, I would have made him pay me for the experience. We were ready to checkout at 12:30; 2 hours after we started.

I checkout at the desk, and I am asked how my stay was. I relate all of this information to the staff member. I tell him how unhappy we were with the stay, especially since things were so good in years past. Not looking up from his screen, he says in an unconcerned voice, “Oh, well, I’m sorry to hear you had so many problems. I’ll knock $30 off your total bill.” $30? For a $750 bill? Yeah, that really makes up for it.

So, in conclusion, I don’t know what the hell has happened with the management of your hotel, but clearly there is a problem. The hotel is falling apart and needs a lot of work. Some of your employees need some manners and compassion. I currently don’t believe we will stay there again after this year, even though your hotel is the closest to the workshop. I’d rather walk the half block from the Essex Inn than deal with problems like this again.

And for Bejeebus’s sake, get another damn luggage cart!

Sincerely,

An unhappy mommy

Me: Cordy, tell your great-grandma “bye-bye”!

Cordy: (opening and closing her fingers) Die! Die!

Cordy’s great grandmother: (Puzzled) Did she just tell me to die?

Me: Oh, uh, well, she’s saying bye. She just can’t say the B-sound yet.

Cordy’s great grandmother: But didn’t she just say “ball” earlier?

Me: OK, you got me there. I was trying to save your feelings.

(Later, to Aaron)

Me: Time to lay off the zombie games and horror movies around Cordelia. She’s starting to freak out the relatives. Next thing you know, she’ll be talking like those kids in Pet Semetary or The Shining.

Aaron: Hey Cordy, say “Red rum!”