O.K. that song is a lie. Chicago is a terrible place for toddlers, and I should have known that being the veteran mom that I am. I'm not sure why I thought taking a two-and-a-half year old to the big city for four days while my hubby is in classes all day long would be a good idea.
Day 1 was actually pretty great. Although the weather was terrible (45 degrees and rainy...and windy, of course), I had a great time seeing my aunt, uncle, and cousin. We hung out at the children's museum at Navy Pier and chatted while the kids played. It was really fun. But Day 2 was not so great, although Sammy did enjoy seeing the huge train exhibit, coal mine, and baby chicks hatch at the Museum of Science and Industry. Day 3 began with a meltdown at breakfast that continued through a taxi ride to the Willis (formerly Sears) Tower, up 103 floors, paused momentarily on the plexiglass ledge while he looked between his toes to the taxis and buses hundreds of feet below, and then picked up again until we went on a boat ride up the Chicago river later that afternoon and he finally fell asleep, lulled to sleep by dozens of free cookies and the dulcet tones of our docent. (It was an architecture tour. Actually, all four of the kids actually fell asleep. Each of us had a very enjoyable boat ride.) Day 4 was the drive home. Need I say more? Actually, I do because I forgot to mention that I had no stroller the entire time and had to carry Sammy through his "episodes." CODE: That means basically all of the time. Carrying a tantrum-y toddler is like wrestling a crocodile. I've been speaking in an Australian accent since we got home.
I have realized that the frustration of this weekend was largely due to me. So I don't blame little Sammy. He really did the best he could--away from his familiar surroundings, sleep-deprived, dragged from here to there without any choice in the matter. What could I really expect? Maybe a little more of myself. I do have a some experience under my belt, or so I thought. I'm sure that I've learned this lesson already in the past and just forgotten it. That is why I had to write about it...lesson learned! Also, I have mentioned to several of my friends that if I ever have the idea to take a small child to a big city for a few days of hotels, restaurants, taxi rides, shopping, and museums, please tell me "NO!" Then I'll remember for sure.
A little postscript...since we've been home he's been an angel--helpful, patient, sweet, loving, his regular Sammy self again. But if I say anything negative about the weekend, he gets a really grumpy face and says, "Don't talk about MY Chicago!!" He obviously had a great time! G'day, mate!
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
You lose some...
...or you don't even finish some. Brace yourselves--this is a sad story. Since January, I've been training for my first marathon, which was last Saturday. It looks like I'll still be training for my first marathon, if I ever train for one again. (It's brutal, did I mention?) My knee had been bothering me for the last two or three weeks, but I just thought it was tired. So I babied it like it was my fifth child. "Oh, my knee needs some ice." "It's time for my knee to have some ibuprofen." "I better stretch my knee for the nth time today."
Race day came and it wasn't hurting, but I was aware of it. Just so you know, you should never be "aware" of your knees. Think right now, do you know how your knees are feeling? No. They should just work and never make themselves known. Well, I was running along with my two friends and at mile 2.5 (that means we had only been running for less than 30 minutes!!) my knee started to hurt and wouldn't hold my weight. I knew then that the marathon wasn't going to happen. My friends didn't want to leave me, so I tried walking and then running a little more. I didn't want to just give up. But the knee started hurting again. My friends were talking to each other and didn't notice. I just slowed down, faded back, and let them drift away until their faces were lost in a sea of bouncing sweatbands and sauconys. It was so sad.
I walked a long time. It was only a little after 8 a.m. and Darren wasn't supposed to meet me until around the 12 mile mark; we thought around 10:30. I didn't know where I was--besides in the middle of 35,000 runners, Nashville, TN. So I just kept walking. At one point, the running crowd surged by a stand of orange wedges. I was walking on the side of the road next to the gutter (isn't this getting pathetic) trying not to feel sorry for myself, and my legs kept getting pelted by half-eaten orange rinds, thrown to the side by lucky runners who had knees that were doing their job. How kind of you runners to toss your garbage to the side of the road where there aren't any people. (Hello? Am I invisible!) Half-eaten orange rinds are very slippery, by the way.
After about an hour of walking and feeling sorry for myself, I decided to try running again. At least it would get me to mile 12 quicker, I thought. For about half a mile, I felt okay. I thought maybe I could make the half. And then, the knee that I had coddled like a newborn infant, completely let me down. It hurt and wouldn't hold my weight, even when I walked. So that is the story of my marathon that ended at the water station at mile marker 7 on the corner of 12th and Davis in Nashville, Tennessee. I called Darren on my cell phone to tell him where to come pick me up, sat down on the curb, took off my number, and cried. Oh, and I ate a cliff bar. Isn't that the saddest story ever?
On a happier note, my two friends did finish, a first marathon for one and a third for the other. They did mention how quiet the run was after I had drifted away. I hope that means they missed me. I enjoyed cheering them on at the end and I'm so proud of their success. A very positive and philosophical friend was quick to point out that the life changing part of a marathon is the training, not the actual event itself. While that is very true and I thank him for the sentiment, "just training" doesn't allow you to put a 26.2 sticker on your car! I wonder if my knee is "aware" of that?
Race day came and it wasn't hurting, but I was aware of it. Just so you know, you should never be "aware" of your knees. Think right now, do you know how your knees are feeling? No. They should just work and never make themselves known. Well, I was running along with my two friends and at mile 2.5 (that means we had only been running for less than 30 minutes!!) my knee started to hurt and wouldn't hold my weight. I knew then that the marathon wasn't going to happen. My friends didn't want to leave me, so I tried walking and then running a little more. I didn't want to just give up. But the knee started hurting again. My friends were talking to each other and didn't notice. I just slowed down, faded back, and let them drift away until their faces were lost in a sea of bouncing sweatbands and sauconys. It was so sad.
I walked a long time. It was only a little after 8 a.m. and Darren wasn't supposed to meet me until around the 12 mile mark; we thought around 10:30. I didn't know where I was--besides in the middle of 35,000 runners, Nashville, TN. So I just kept walking. At one point, the running crowd surged by a stand of orange wedges. I was walking on the side of the road next to the gutter (isn't this getting pathetic) trying not to feel sorry for myself, and my legs kept getting pelted by half-eaten orange rinds, thrown to the side by lucky runners who had knees that were doing their job. How kind of you runners to toss your garbage to the side of the road where there aren't any people. (Hello? Am I invisible!) Half-eaten orange rinds are very slippery, by the way.
After about an hour of walking and feeling sorry for myself, I decided to try running again. At least it would get me to mile 12 quicker, I thought. For about half a mile, I felt okay. I thought maybe I could make the half. And then, the knee that I had coddled like a newborn infant, completely let me down. It hurt and wouldn't hold my weight, even when I walked. So that is the story of my marathon that ended at the water station at mile marker 7 on the corner of 12th and Davis in Nashville, Tennessee. I called Darren on my cell phone to tell him where to come pick me up, sat down on the curb, took off my number, and cried. Oh, and I ate a cliff bar. Isn't that the saddest story ever?
On a happier note, my two friends did finish, a first marathon for one and a third for the other. They did mention how quiet the run was after I had drifted away. I hope that means they missed me. I enjoyed cheering them on at the end and I'm so proud of their success. A very positive and philosophical friend was quick to point out that the life changing part of a marathon is the training, not the actual event itself. While that is very true and I thank him for the sentiment, "just training" doesn't allow you to put a 26.2 sticker on your car! I wonder if my knee is "aware" of that?
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
You win some...
In March, we performed Hamlet and it was a total triumph. Everything--kids, costumes, sets--exceeded my expectations, due to a lot of hard work and some amazing, dedicated parents. It is so fantastic (and rare, for me) to have an idea come off even better than I had imagined it. Pure fun!
McKay was an amazing Hamlet. He got to sword fight, carry the skull around, and "die." Who could ask for anything more in a role!
Natalie was a lovely lady in waiting. She's waiting to be Juliet next year; that's why she took a smaller part.
David is always my stalwart little soldier. He took his part as guard and watchman very seriously. He told me already that next year, he wants to be Romeo's best friend "Homeo" and that he wants to "die." I shouldn't have worried about doing a tragedy. Everyone wants a death scene!
Here is a shot of the cast from the balcony. So have you figured out what we are doing next year? Romeo and Juliet of course. But set in the Wild West! Should be an interesting combination. "Romeo, Romeo, where for art ya'll?" I'm not sure what I've gotten myself into!
McKay was an amazing Hamlet. He got to sword fight, carry the skull around, and "die." Who could ask for anything more in a role!
Natalie was a lovely lady in waiting. She's waiting to be Juliet next year; that's why she took a smaller part.
David is always my stalwart little soldier. He took his part as guard and watchman very seriously. He told me already that next year, he wants to be Romeo's best friend "Homeo" and that he wants to "die." I shouldn't have worried about doing a tragedy. Everyone wants a death scene! 
Here is a shot of the cast from the balcony. So have you figured out what we are doing next year? Romeo and Juliet of course. But set in the Wild West! Should be an interesting combination. "Romeo, Romeo, where for art ya'll?" I'm not sure what I've gotten myself into!
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