I'll Miss You. Sort of.

Sara and I are packing for our big trip! We are heading to Canada with my aunt and my dad. Think "Planes, Trains and Automobiles" with French accents. Sara and I are big Anne of Green Gables fans so we picked Prince Edward Island. I also picked Montreal because it is bilingual and very cosmopolitan. It should fit her fancy sense of self very nicely. Since my dad and aunt go on a trip together every year, we decided to invite ourselves along for the ride. And plan the whole thing. Between the unpredictable weather, events and my daughter's "sense of style", packing has proved to be a bit of a challenge. First, she grew over the summer, so I have no idea what fits her. Second, she hates trying on clothes. She prefers the "just buy it and hope for the best" attitude. Third, we are going to "fancy tea" in Montreal, so this requires (in Sara's mind) a loan of Kate Middleton's wedding dress. And don't get me started on the number of shoes she thinks she needs to bring. My shoe criteria? Do they sort of match my outfit? Are they comfy? Since I know I will be stuck lugging her luggage all through Canada, I am trying to be efficient. We will be gone for 5 days. She has packed 11 outfits, 4 sets of pajamas, and 2 pairs of underwear. Christian was "helping" me pack. He jumped on the bed and threw clothes to me to add to the suitcase. He suggested a swim suit and a floppy hat. He didn't care that it will be 60 degrees. He asked a million questions. Where are we going? Why? Why can't he come? Will we bring back presents? What food do they have? He got quiet for a minute. He told me he would miss me. He brightened when I told him he would have Daddy all to himself. I asked if he wanted to do anything special with Daddy while we were gone. Watch Star Wars and eat at the new hot dog place. I will miss you, too, little buddy.

I Promise

I did not watch the VMA show. But I heard enough about Miley Cyrus's "performance" to check it out. I felt like I needed a shower after watching it. And someone needs to give that girl some boundaries. And a makeover. Thankfully, my daughter will never see that strip tease. I would not even know what to say about it. It was disgusting, horrifying and nauseating. I will promise this to my daughter: Because I love you and want what is best for you, I will watch over you, guide you, encourage you. I will also teach you to use you talents to engage people- not shock and titillate them. I will make sure you dress and act in a way that demands and shows respect for others and yourself. I will never let you prance around like cheap tart in trashy underwear. I will never let you bring home trashy clothes or makeup. I will make you change your outfit and wash your face if you do not look like the beautiful, smart girl that you are. I will not let you leave our house looking cheap or trashy. If you look cheap and trashy, people will treat you that way. It is not cool to degrade yourself in public like that. If you want to be a singer or dancer, then take lessons and practice. Show your skill, not your booty. Show your style, not your skin. Show your beautiful smile, not your butt cheeks. Use your personality, humor and charm to attract people to you. You don't need to shock and reveal yourself in public. People will not admire you. They will pity you or objectify you. Value yourself and people will see your worth. You will never dress like that. Ever. You will never dance like that. Ever. You will be a lady. Not a sex object. This I promise you, my beautiful daughter. If you follow these simple rules, you will not be mocked, degraded and pitied. You will be seen as a strong, talented and graceful person. Or I will ground you until you are 40.

If I Ran The Zoo

We recently trekked up to the Lincoln Park Zoo. It is a very cool zoo and it is FREE!! The kids loved it. We roared at lions. We tweeted at birds of prey. We raced the servals. Each kid has a favorite animal so we made sure to spend lots of time observing those. Sara is fascinated by all big cats so we spent a lot of time in the big cat house. Christian wanted to see giraffes and polar bears. Unfortunately, the polar bears were not to be found but he was fascinated by the giraffes and their creepy, long, purple tongues. As we strolled over to the bears, I mentioned that my dad frequently sees bears on his fishing trips. Christian, being 5, brilliant and frugal, said "Grumpy should just come here to see them". Then he thought for another minute. "And he can bring us and buy us lunch". You have to admit that kid has a point. Later, I told my dad about my son's brilliant plan. My dad's suggestion? When he is old enough, my son can go on fishing trip with my dad and see the bears for himself. Ummmm, I've heard stories about them having to dump their lunches and JUMP into a plane to escape an approaching bear looking for a meal. I think I like the idea of my kid observing the animals from a safe distance with a large barrier between the beasts and my kids. Everyone survives and we can have ice cream after. On my dad's dime.

That's The Way The Scone Crumbles

I have taken my kids out to eat (on my father's dime) since they were 3 weeks old. Occasionally, they were loud or messy. Frequently, they were both. The trick is to be polite, apologize, tip well, and eat at kid-friendly places. A military wife recently took her kids to a cafe and ordered scones. Not my favorite food. Basically, it is a bad knock off of a donut. It's dry, crumbly and tasteless, in my humble opinion. But, to each their own scone. Apparently, this military wife/mother was sitting with her 1 and 3 year old kids, quietly eating their scones when the owner freaked out about the mess they were making. The mother was told to never come back with her kids. They were not loud or disruptive. They were sitting quietly and eating the food they paid for. Seriously? Crumbs??? The mother was so embarrassed that she immediately left. The owner then posted a picture of the "mess" and complained about messy customers. Crumbs on a carpet. This owner was worked up over some crumbs. Has anyone, regardless of age, been able to eat a scone without making a huge mess of crumbs? I know I can't. I can guarantee my 9 and 5 year old could not. My kids have spilled milk, soup, coleslaw, to name a few food items. One kid even threw up in a restaurant. I rushed out and left my father to pay the bill and apologize. The waitstaff was completely understanding about the situation. I should post pictures of my kitchen floor after every meal. That restaurant owner would have a stroke and pass out on her "messy" floor. Last time I checked, crumbs are pretty easy to clean up with this nifty newfangled contraption called a vacuum. I'll loan her mine after I clean up the breakfast remnants at my house. The owner should have been happy to have 2 well-behaved kids eating in her restaurant. She should have thanked the military mother/wife for her family's sacrifice and comped the meal. If I lived in that town, I would never enter her establishment. Though, I would be sorely tempted to come and order a bunch of scones and let my kids having a shark feeding frenzy. Just to see her reaction.

Queen Bee

One of Sara's school assignments was to create an imaginary island - complete with vegetation, food, animals, etc. She was thrilled. She got to create, write and use her amazing imagination. This was her dream homework assignment. Her imaginary island rivals the early Roman Empire. She drew elaborate pictures of the food, plant life and animals. She created mountains, marshes, beaches, savannahs, even tide pools. She declared herself queen of the island. Everyone she knows has a title and a role to play in her fiefdom. Paul is her king. Christian, her little brother, is the court jester. My father is the island cook. Her Aunt Angie is her lady-in-waiting/advisor. Her other aunts and female cousins are princesses. All her uncles and male cousins are palace guards. My role in her little fantasy world? Servant. Yup, a basic, low level, on call 24/7 servant, a lowly serf. I am going to seek political asylum and go to someone else's island. Maybe I'll get a job as a cocktail waitress. Or beach comber.

Birthday Blues

My baby is turning five. Finally. He is very offended that his friends had the audacity to do it before him. Now it is his turn. He has been planning the bash of the century for months now. He invites anyone and everyone who crosses his path - Paul's coworkers, Target cashiers, priests, lifeguards. Paul will be traveling for work on the day of the party so I needed reinforcements. I needed to hire someone with actual skills to entertain a house full of 5-6 year old on a sugar high. "We" agreed on a small party at home. Basically, I changed the subject every time he mentioned Chuck E. Cheese. I would rather fly everyone to Vegas for a show than enter that filthy Petri dish. Once we agreed on a venue (our house) and a guest list (a small group of friends), we needed to select entertainment. Face painting is out. He begs for his face to get painted, then ignores my reminders that it itches. Once the masterpiece is created and admired, he demands it be removed immediately. Picture the Shakespeare scene "Out, damn spot, out!" Balloons freak me out. I am always just waiting for the damn things to pop. Once they do, there is the inevitable fall out. So, forget the clown and balloon animals. So, I solicited ideas from those around me who are smarter and have been around the birthday block a few times. A magician! Brilliant. I can feed the group of hyper 5-6 year olds some cake and snacks and let some guy in a cape captivate and distract them. I asked Christian what he thought about having a magic show. He thought for a minute and shook his head. "But, I want a Star Wars birthday." I explained it is still a Star Wars theme - cake, decorations, invitations, etc. Then he thought some more. "But I don't know any magic, Mom." Poor kid. What kind of mother expects a kid to work his own birthday party. I quickly explained that a real magician comes and does it. He doesn't have to perform. Once he realized the pressure was off him, he was excited. Now he wants a cape. Not sure if he wants to be Batman or a magician. Probably a magical Batman.

A Five Year Old's Existential Crisis

Christian turned 5. This was an event months and months in the making. Every time a classmate had a birthday, he got upset that yet another kid was gaining on him in the age department. He plotted and planned his party for months. Anyone he met got invited - his pediatrician, his father's co-workers, the Target cashiers, etc. We explained over and over that his party would be the day AFTER his birthday. The day BEFORE his birthday, he woke up from his nap giddy as can be. He skipped down the stairs, yelling "I am 5 FINALLY". It killed me to burst his little bubble but he had to wait one more "sleep". Crushed by this devastating blow, he muddled through the rest of his day. At the crack of dawn on his actual birthday, he bounced into our room, announcing gleefully, "I am FIVE FINALLY for real". He climbed into bed to cuddle and plan his special day. Then he climbed back down and went into the bathroom. He came back, looking crestfallen. He told us, "I don't FEEL five. I don't LOOK five. I don't SOUND five. How do I know I am really five now?" Poor kid. He was finally five but didn't believe it. We assured him that he looked and sounded older. He accepted it (grudgingly) and ran down the hall to remind his sister that he was 5. It's hard being 5 if you don't look, sound or feel 5.