Chicago, Day 01 – Arrival and Navy Pier

Hubster signed up to present a paper at the AIAA conference in Chicago this month, and he signed us all up to go along. We do this sort of thing on a regular basis. He takes us to some far away place, drops us in a strange city, and runs off to play scientist while I have to figure out what to do with the kids. I was a little intimidated by the thought of hitting Chicago with a 3 year-old and a 6 year-old in tow, but so far this trip we’ve survived. Oh, and thanks to the fact that our hotel charges an arm and a leg for wireless access, I have no idea when these posts will get up. I’m writing this one in Chicago, but will probably not be able to post until I get back to good ol’ Virginnie.

Having said that, here’s a brief run down of day 01 of our trip, with photos.

Made it to the airport barely in time, and found our flight was delayed. Took a puddle jumper to Chicago airport. Lots of turbulence. Joy!

Rode a shuttle van to our hotel, and got a good look at traffic along the way. So damned glad we opted not to get a rental car. We barely survive the trip from the airport to the hotel, and our driver knew how to drive in Chicago.

After unloading our bags, we headed out to the Navy Pier, where there are tons of rides, games, and other attractions to enjoy. We played miniature golf. Well, three of us played mini golf. Pixie was too intent on clubbing the rest of us to death to pay attention to her ball. Not that Princess didn’t try to kill us as well. She doesn’t understand yet that mini golf is a putting game, not a full swing game of golf. Oy!

We also rode the carosel, and Princess and Hubster rode the big swings.

Look for the two-seater swing on the right side, the one with the guy in the big white sneakers. That’s Hubster, with Princess beside him.

We managed to snag a table at the Bubba Gump Shrimp Co. due to the fact that half their kitchen broke, so they were only serving a limited menu that evening. Half the menu was good enough for us. I was pleasantly surprised to see they served normal sized portions, as opposed to the giganto-sized proportions I’m used to seeing in most restaurants these days. I like being able to eat an entire meal without feeling like I’m going to recreate the final scene from Monty Python’s “The Meaning Of Life.”

After that, we returned to the hotel for the evening and slept hard.

Fabulous quote from day 01 of the trip – “If you hit your sister in the head, the game is over!” (Said to Princess during mini golf.)

Second fabulous quote from day 01 – “Quit horsing around!” (Said to both girls while riding the carousel.)

The Bag Dilemma

Prior to leaving for Chicago this week, I spent two days packing for three people – me, Princess, and Pixie. (Hubster is on his own with this chore.) We’ve taken enough family trips that I’ve gotten pretty good at getting the three of us stuffed into one suitcase. I know exactly how many sets of underpants, socks, shorts, jeans, etc., to bring. What I don’t know, what I can never figure out, is what purse to bring.

Well, purse isn’t exactly the right word for it. I don’t like to carry makeup with me, and I usually prefer to keep my wallet safely zipped in a pants pocket, so I don’t do the girly girl thing and carry a purse. What I do like to carry is: a drawing pad; a mechanical pencil; an art eraser; a set of drawing pens; maybe some drafting tools; also a composition notebook and ballpoint pen for writing down any story ideas I get. If I’m thinking clearly, I’ll also toss in a travel-sized bottle of hand sanitizer, my cell phone, and coupons for whatever bookstore I’m headed out to that day. So it’s more of an art/writing bag, and I’ve got bags of various sizes set up with exactly this sort of kit. I’ve got a tiny one with the world’s smallest drawing pad and notebook for quick trips out, a larger bag with Jack Skellington on it for when I want to look truly goth, and a sturdy red bag with water bottle pockets that’s handy for a long day’s adventure.

Unfortunately, these bags all work best for when I’m running around my home town. When I’m about to get on an airplane for a long trip, not so much. The problem is, these bags will only hold what I’ve already listed, but they will not hold my beloved netbook. My little Asus EEE is too big for even the largest of those three bags. I do have a messenger bag big enough to hold the Asus and all the other stuff, but that bag is too big to lug around on a sight seeing trip and it’s covered in pins and metallic goo-gaws so it’s no good for airport security.

What I’d like to get is one more bag, something in between the size of the red art bag and the big messenger bag, something I wouldn’t cover in pins and something that would still hold a water bottle in case the kids and I get thirsty when we spend a day sightseeing. I haven’t found that bag yet. This bag is the closest I’ve come so far, but as you can see, no pockets for water bottles.

I suppose I could go with a backpack; I do have a couple of those. But the backpacks I have are too big and heavy for toting around all day and I always worry about somebody sneaking up behind me and stealing something out of the bag when I’m not paying attention (paranoid, I know). So, I’ll keep looking. For Chicago, I am taking a backpack, but I’m stuffing my sturdy red bag into it along with the netbook. That way I can leave the backpack and netbook in the hotel and travel carefree with the smaller bag during the day.

If you know of a bag that would solve my problem, send me a link so I can check it out! I really do need to solve this whole bag dilemma.

What Price Peace (and Quiet)?

I’m trying to work, but both kids just came running into the room.

“Mama! Mama! Pixie wants a piece of chocoloate!” Princess screams.

Pixie dances around, something small and most likely chocolate clutched in her tiny hands.

I look at the pile of work on my desk and sigh. “Do you two know what *I* want?”

Pixie gets a funny look on her face as she cogitates this. “Um, world peace?”

“Exactly,” I say. “When I get what I want, you can have what you want.”

Princess bobs her head. Pixie keeps squealing and spinning in circles, smooshing chocolate in her hand.

“So does that mean we can have the chocolate?” Princess asks.

**If that’s what it takes to get some peace and quiet…**

Drama vs. Contentment

I recently had a brush with someone else’s drama. It was not the natural disaster sort of drama, nor was it the death-in-the-family sort of deal where the tragedy that happens in unavoidable and there’s no way out but through it. Rather, this was a sort of self-inflicted sort of thing, many years in the making, that was brought about by bad decisions, refusal to communicate, and an unreasonable expectation that everything, especially the people you love, should be perfect or at least better than they are.

I hate this kind of drama. First, it’s sad to see people’s lives combust right before your eyes. But second, it really is self-inflicted, and it’s mainly because of that mindset that everything in life should be without flaw. People, jobs, relationships are not perfect. They never will be perfect. And when you get involved with any of these things, when you make a long term commitment to someone or to something, you ought to understand at the start that there will be mistakes and rough patches and even a little outright misery.

And you know what? That’s okay.

Seriously, this is where the Buddhist in me comes out. When Buddha said “Life is suffering,” I think what he meant was, “There are tough times in life, and there’s no way to avoid them.” And that’s true enough. But I also think he meant that people want things to be perfect no matter what, and they get upset when things turn out to be otherwise. Things, people, and situations are all impermanent. They CHANGE. What was perfect one day will be flawed and blemished then next. And that’s okay. It’s the natural state of things. Nothing lasts forever. But people refuse to see that, refuse to accept that the job they took on now has additional or different responsibilities, the person they made friends with has picked up (or probably always had) annoying bad habits, that the house they bought has bad plumbing, etc., etc., etc. And that refusal to accept always leads to anger and strife and worry and misery.

And people wonder why they’re suddenly so unhappy with their once perfect lives.

I figured out a long time ago that nothing was ever going to be perfect in my life. I have a husband I love. He’s handsome, smart, responsible, kind, generous, and good with kids. He also drives me nuts with his coupon clipping, his budgeting, his technobabble, the way he riles up the girls right before bedtime, the way he leaves his shoes lying around, his mile-wide streak of perfectionism. We’ve had more shouting matches and head butting over these things than I can recall. And somehow, we’re still married after 16 years.

Then I have these two beautiful daughters. They’re smart, funny, loving, healthy. They fight non-stop some days and drive me batty with endless questions and attitude and tantrums, not to mention their refusal to eat a meal I made because they specifically asked for it, and oh, did I mention the youngest scribbled on my freshly painted walls, and the oldest can’t focus on her homework to save her life some days? The whining and the fussing and the fighting never end. Yet somehow, I look at them and think, “I want a third. One more baby would make this family complete.”

I love my parents. They’re far from perfect. I love my friends. They don’t hit that goal of perfection either. And you know what? Neither do I. I nag, I bitch, I get angry, I yell. I’m rude, obnoxious, a loud-mouth. I’m carrying around an extra 10 lbs I can’t seem to lose no matter what and my oldest child tells me my butt jiggles funny when I run.

No, nothing is ever perfect. But there’s plenty in life that’s good enough, and I want to appreciate those things as much as I can. Case in point. Hubster and I were rather shell shocked after being hit by the shrapnel of someone else’s drama (and that’s my biggest bitch about drama; it doesn’t just affect those directly involved, it takes out the bystanders too). Feeling nervous, upset, out of sorts, we deliberately decided to take stock of what we had. We had dinner as a family, laughing and joking with the girls. We ate fortune cookies and giggled over the ludicrous fortunes we got. We read comic books together and tucked the girls into bed with kisses and songs. Then we curled up together on the couch to watch a movie. Before we went to sleep, we made love.

None of it was perfect. Pixie wouldn’t eat her dinner and threw a tantrum when she only got one fortune cookie because of that. Princess pouted and whined over not getting extra stories or being allowed to stay up late. Hubster and I argued over how good the movie was when it was over, me rolling my eyes yet again at his elitist standards for cinema. And the sex? It was comfortable, not earth-shattering.

And I’m good with all of that. Really, I am. It’s a quiet life with minor issues, and I don’t set out to make mountains out of molehills by digging up every little thing that goes wrong. And I think that’s good, because when the mountains do come along, the real ones like a natural disaster or a death in the family, I know I’ll still have the solid ground of a contented life to keep me steady on my feet.

*****

Helen’s list of contentment’s for today:

  • Two little girls who love singing along to Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons
  • Waking up with a half-decent story idea in my head for today’s writing
  • Cheese and onion pie with fruit salad and iced coffee at the Briar Patch Tea room
  • Running into an old friend at lunch and reminiscing about the days I used worked at the newspaper
  • Reading Bone by Jeff Smith to my girls
  • Having time to do random doodling on in my sketch book
  • Picking up an old paperback I’ve had for years and finally starting to read it (Gojiro by Mark Jacobson)
  • Summer dresses and nice weather
  • Long phone calls with my friends
  • Learning how to knit a potholder
  • Watching Stranger Than Fiction with the Hubster and discovering Will Ferrel can really act
  • Sleeping late, curled up with the man I love. He smelled too good and felt too comfy for me to get out of bed.

Really, what more could I want than all this?

Move It Mama Monday! So How Many Plants Have I Killed?

I know, I know. I’m running late again. I apologize. The Hubster had a paper to write this weekend for a big important conference, so my little blogging adventures kind of got pushed to the side by a double helping of weekend child-rearing activities. It’s okay though. I’m here now.

Anyway, I thought I’d talk a little about Operation Kill A Lot Of Plants, since I haven’t mentioned it in a while. So far, most of the plants are doing… okay. Not terrific, but not dead. For some reason, a few of the plants had a delayed growth spurt and are only just now graduating from sproutling to actual plant. The vegetables we planted aren’t exactly producing a bumper crop, probably because I started the seeds so late. I have been told that next year I need to start my seeds in February, which leads me to wonder where the hell I’m going to keep all those tiny plants for the two plus months I’ll have to wait until we’re past the final frost (which I have been told is on Tax Day in April). I also may have not helped things by trying to make a homemade pesticide out of apple cider vinegar, dish soap and hot sauce. That recipe came out of a gardening book I have, and I thought it would help kill the leaf eating pests we’ve been having problems with. Well it did, but it also caused the plants to shrivel up and nearly die too.

In spite of my attempts at planticide, we do have a few ears of corn coming up, but the bugs got one and now the others seem to afraid to come out of their husks. We have the odd tiny green tomato and banana pepper hanging on the plant. The herbs have done the best, though for some reason my basil took forever to hit puberty (do plants do puberty? I dunno).

The best grower by far has been the beans we planted. I have no frikkin’ clue anymore what kind of beans we’ve planted, but they grew like weeds, trailing all around the tomato cages I set up around them. We harvested about 25 pods and got enough beans out of those to feed myself and both girls one serving of beans each. They turned purple when I boiled them (the beans, not the girls), and the girls thought that was a little too weird so yours truly is the only one who would eat them. For the record, if I die suddenly in the next few days, it was probably the beans.

The rest of the yard isn’t looking too bad, except for the one side where the Hubster planted a slew of creeping juniper a few years back. I hate creeping juniper. Weeds get in there and the only way to kill them is to reach into the prickly, scratchy branches of the juniper to pull them out. I tore up my arms good this past weekend and only managed to weed about a square foot. I’ve still got another twelve square feet or so to go. Joy!

But the flower garden in the side yard looks good, as does the small herb garden in the back, plus a few other odds and ends I’ve managed not to kill over the years. Here are a few photos I took a week or so ago.

Princess, standing by the towering Russian blue sage in the side flower garden. I’ve also got some calla lilies in there, plus some daisies, yarrow and button flowers and a few other things I can’t recall the names of.

The containers of herbs on the back deck. Note the delightful chalk art the kids drew for me!

Our vegetable container garden. The big bushy thing is the beans I ate that are probably going to kill me. And next to that is our stunted corn.

A mixed pot of sunflowers, colieosus, and marigolds. Probably the weirdest combination of plants ever thrown together, but they’re doing pretty good. Nothing’s blooming yet, of course…

This is not my garden. This is Norfolk Botanical Garden, about an hour from where I live. Norfolk Botanical Garden is gorgeous. I wish I could get my yard to look even a little bit like it. Yes, they teach gardening classes there. Would they help improve my black thumb? Probably not. Drives me crazy.

Anyway, that’s what’s going on with Operation Kill A Lot Of Plants. It’s not a roaring success, but we are getting outside and digging around in the dirt, and I consider that a sign of success, even if all we manage to grow is a bunch of purple beans that kill me.

Play Dates and the Bad Mom

Am I a bad mom? I ask myself this question much as I’m sure every mom must ask it when a conflict arises between Mom giving the kids what they want versus doing Mom doing something for herself. In my case, what my kids, Princess specifically, are asking for lots of play dates. What I’m asking for is a couple of hours to myself every afternoon to do some work.

It’s a sticky issue. There aren’t a lot of little girls Princess’ age in the neighborhood. Only two, to be exact. Everyone else is either a boy, and only wants to hang with other boys, or quite a few years older than Princess. Of the two little girls who are Princess’ age, one is getting ready to leave for a cross-country trip this summer. The other lives within walking distance, but I’d have to walk over with Princess (no biggie, I can always use the exercise) AND… Pixie is not invited to go with her.

I hate that. As with Princess, there are only two children in the neighborhood around Pixie’s age. One of them is sister to the girl who’s about to leave on that cross-country trip, so she won’t be around either. The other is allergic to just about everything under the sun, so arranging play dates requires a lot of pre-planning and logistical discussion (choosing a restaurant can we all eat at, scrubbing my kids down before going over to make sure they’re allergen-free, etc.).

So essentially, Pixie is out of luck in the local friends department. I’ve made arrangements to have Princess’ one little friend come over here a couple of mornings a week, to ensure that Pixie isn’t left out when the girls play together, but even then it’s a crap shoot they’ll all get along. Every time this particular kid comes over, she has a nasty habit of dragging Princess into her room and slamming the door on Pixie, who then comes sobbing to me. I’m going to try to prevent that scenario from happening this summer by making the kids play outside all morning while I garden (and I’ve already told the other mom that’s going to be the rule – girls stay outside!). Even so, I can’t guarantee Pixie will included in the older girls’ games.

All this means I’m not inclined to have Princess’ friend over every day of the week (especially since she also annoys the hell out of me). In fact, I’m thinking along the lines of one or two mornings a week at most. Then I’ve got a standing agreement to meet with a friend of mine and her kids one morning a week. Patty’s got two boys, one Princess’ age and one Pixie’s age. It’s a bit of a drive to get together with them, but doable once a week. That gives us three mornings a week of play dates. And of course I’ve planned to take one day a week for day trips, just me and the girls, to the beach, the museum, Busch Gardens… I’m thinking that’s pretty good right? Plenty of activity all summer and lots of play dates with other kids!

Except Princess keeps whining that she wants to see her one girlfriend every day, in the afternoon, either at her house, where Pixie is not invited to come play, or here, where I will be hard at work writing the next great American smut novel.

My plan was that I would devote the entire first half of the day to the girls – play dates, gardening, going to the pool, throwing water balloons, karate classes, arts and crafts, etc. Princess’ little friend could come over during that time and join us for some outdoor fun. Then we’d come in for lunch and after lunch, when it’s hot enough outside you could fry an egg on the front porch, the girls would go upstairs to their rooms and play together. Quietly. While I worked in the office for a few hours.

I thought that arrangement sounded quite fair. They’d get to see friends and have all the fun they wanted in the mornings, I’d get the work time I so desperately need in the afternoon. But when I discuss this with Princess, I get a lot of arguing about how it isn’t fair, she never gets to see her friends often enough, she’s bored, she’s lonely, why can’t she play outside by herself, she won’t run out into the street, she won’t let her sister run out into the street, the three girls could play very quietly in her room and no one would fight or set the house on fire while I was working, etc., etc., etc.

Am I wrong? Should I try to have Princess’ friend over in the afternoons? Or have I set a reasonable schedule for all of us? I can’t say. I will say I’m not budging from that schedule. No kidding, I have a novel to write this summer, and a website to massively update. I can’t afford not to work those hours. Princess will get to see her friend once or twice a week, see some other kids once a week, and go on some fun trips every week. That’s enough, right?

Now to figure out how to quit feeling like a bad mom every time she asks for a play date…

Pixie Turns Three!

Pixie turned 3 on Tuesday, and I’m very pleased to say we all survived the day. Here’s a few pictures from the eventful day.

Pixie and her sister, Princess. They don’t always get along this well, of course.

The Birthday Girl enjoys her favorite breakfast while watching Handy Manny.

The big present of the day was a doll house. To be specific, my old doll house from when I was a child. My mom provided all new furnishings. Both girls enjoyed it immensely.

Yep, someone’s having a happy birthday!

The success of the doll house was a bit of a surprise. I had been planning for a while to give my old doll house to one of the girls. One of the moms on our street told me that during one play date, Pixie had been obsessed with the doll house they had there, so I decided she could have it for her birthday, and then share it with her sister (doll houses are more fun when you have someone to share them with). It is an old doll house. My grandmother gave it to me when I was about 6 or 7, as a Christmas present. She was the only grandparent I ever knew, my maternal grandfather and paternal grandmother and grandfather having died before I was a year old. I still remember the day I got it, and I held onto it for ever, keeping it tucked away in the closet. When I pulled it out to give to Pixie, it still had all the original furniture in it, wrapped in tissue paper. We pulled out each piece to look at before putting the new doll house furniture in. Once I had the girls upstairs happily playing with their new toy, I came downstairs and cried. That I really hadn’t expected, but seeing that doll house got me thinking about my grandmother and how thrilled she would have been to see the kids playing with it. She died several years ago, long before Michael and I had kids.

Anyway, I wrapped up the old doll furniture and tucked it away in a box. I suppose I could have given Pixie the old furniture, but the old stuff is wood, and old, and I worry that it’s not up to the strain of being played with by an enthusiastic three-year-old. Besides, Pixie’s new furniture all matches. Still, my old stuff was pretty nice…

Things I Suck At As A Mom

I really should be working right now, but the current free-for-all/play date going on upstairs has inspired me to write the following list of Things I Suck At As A Mom.

  1. Mommies groups. Never joined one that I really fit into. Mostly because I am a Freak Mama, and mundane mamas scare/irritate me.
  2. Chit-chat with non-Freak Mamas. Related to item #1. I have very little in common with most non-fandom or non-freak moms, so doing the whole polite talk thing is painfully awkward for me (as I’m sure it must be for them to talk to me).
  3. Play dates with children of non-Freak Mamas. I do not relate well to other people’s kids at the best of times. Dealing with kids whom I am afraid will contaminate my kids with such anti-Freak ick like “Hannah Montana” or “Bratz” just drives me up the wall.
  4. Cooking dinner. Hubster used to do ALL the cooking, because I honestly never learned how. And since I get up at 5AM, my brain usually shuts down around 5PM, which is of course the magic hour at which dinner is expected to be prepared.
  5. Packing school lunches. I don’t know why I suck at this one. I had to pack my own school lunch for years when I was in school. Somehow, I can’t pull it off for the Princess. It may be that many times we don’t have what I need on hand to make said lunch (because I also suck at grocery shopping, yet another task the Hubster does). It may be part of the whole “brain shuts down at 5PM” thing. I just can’t say.
  6. Children’s parties. I think kids’ birthday parties should be small simple affairs. I don’t like renting inflatable bouncy death traps, nor do I like hiring evil clowns/magicians/balloon animal artists. I prefer simple parties at home. However, right now my home has no downstairs bathroom, no patio furniture, no grill, and no linoleum in the foyer. Also no fence, so no way to coral screaming children. Makes it hard to host a simple barbeque in the backyard.
  7. House cleaning. I’m too damn busy being Freak Mama and doing my writing/graphic arts thing to get around to this one. And don’t even ask about decorating the house. I decorate with dust bunnies, okay? That way all the rooms in the house match!
  8. Sleep-overs. I have not yet even attempted to have one at this house. I just can’t stand other people’s children long enough to force myself to suffer through one. I live in fear of the day I do have to do it.

This list probably doesn’t even begin to cover the things I suck at as a mom, but right now I’ve got small screaming children in the house tearing things apart, so I have to go.

What do you suck at as a parent?

After Balticon, I Came Home To Blood…

I had the absolute best time at Balticon this weekend. I will give you the details later. Probably tomorrowish later. But right now, I want to share what awaited me when I got home this evening. (Be warned, this is a little gross.)

First, there was this in the kitchen…

…apparently caused by this blunt object…

…which landed on this little tootsie…

Apparently Pixie went into the pantry while no one was looking and grabbed a can of ice tea which she immediately dropped on her foot, rim first. While she screamed bloody murder, Princess ran and found the Hubster, who then spent several minutes chasing after a shrieking Pixie, then calming and staunching the flow of blood. She ran pretty far, so there was blood all over the kitchen floor, the living room carpet, and the love seat, the stairs and the kids bathroom. Hubster was wet vaccuuming the carpet and love seat when I got home. Princess gave me all the gory details… several times in a row.

It doesn’t look like any permanent damage was done. Pixie was running around on it only a short while later. But we’ll probably spend tomorrow at the doctor’s office and I have no idea when I’ll be able to get a shoe on that foot.

But anyway, I’m glad to be home, bloody sweet home, and I owe the Hubster so frikkin’ much for letting me take this weekend off that it’s not eve funny. Hope everyone made it home safe from Balticon, and had slightly less bloody surprises waiting for them when they walked in the door.

We Said What?

A random list of things said and/or overheard in la Casa de Madden today….

“Bad pony! Da pony spank me so I spank da pony!” ~ Pixie, while playing with My Pretty Pony

“Did the pony spank you or did you make the pony spank you?” ~ Helen, who can’t believe she just said that

“Did Buddha die in Jamestown?” ~ Princess, in a conversation exploring religion and history

“Dere are volcanoes on da lunar surface!” ~ Pixie (after listening to a little too much Jimmy Buffet)

“But if I give the bank all my money, I’ll never get it back!” ~ Princess, commenting on the current state of the economy and her allowance

Yeah, just another day of fun here at la Casa de Madden.