My Kind of Town, Chicago Is....

Well, maybe. If you are someone who likes ridiculous amounts of traffic. (I don't. And the kids really don't!) Sure, there are great sites and great eats there, but if you can't get anywhere in a reasonable amount of time, what good is it? Me, I prefer good ol' Indy. Plenty to do; nice people; and a city you can get around in. And a place where you do not have to spend the equivalent of 1 months salary just to park for an hour! But anyway, I think you all already caught on to my city preference. (If not, please see Super Bowl posts from the month of January.)

Nonetheless, we found ourselves in the Windy City last week on the mission of visiting some of hubby's family. Princess Keira wanted to make an appearance to spread goodwill. She returned to the city where she became a US citizen and topped that by finally meeting her paternal grandfather, an aunt and uncle. Hopefully we'll get to see the rest of the gang on our next visit.

Besides K getting to meet some more of her family, we experienced other firsts on the trip as well....

It was our first family road trip in the new car:

and our first family swim in a pool:

It was also our first family-of-4 stay in a hotel, complete with pillow-fight:

Don't worry about the munchkin here. She looks a little tortured, but she was really having some fun. Really. And after the pillow fight, we gathered 'round to watch a movie (Cars - Q's favorite) and eat popcorn. Two more firsts for K, and a big success as well.

On the way out of Chicago, Quinn offered the following observations: This city has lots of tall buildings. Lots of people live in them.

And some have rockets on top.

He's a quick-study, eh? That preschool education is paying off.

Ladies, Start Your Engines!

Ah yes, the month of May here in Indianapolis. Race Fever abounds. Palms sweat at the though of fast cars. And, in the case of my hubby and the hubby of my best friend/therapist/sounding board, hearts race at the thought of increased estrogen in this year's 500...especially this dose of speeding womanhood:

And especially when said friend and I gloated about spotting Ms. Patrick last Friday outside Nordtrom. You didn't get her autograph? they gasped. Uh, no...we were too busy noting her fabulous sunglasses and shoes...and too busy discussing whether or not our husbands were surviving a whole day with the kids while we got to shop, shop, shop. This type of day, by the way, the ladies-only-shopping-men-home-with-kids day is known in motherhood circles as a Little Slice of Heaven.

But anyway, back to racing, cars, and fast driving.

In keeping with the spirit of the month of May, and because it was just way overdue, we bid farewell to our 1995 Jeep Grand Cherokee. The ol' Jeep has served us well and has transported us far and wide. I think it still might have some sand in it, leftover from trips to beaches in Michigan, North Carolina, and Florida.

So last Saturday morning, with a bit of research under our belts, we piled the kids in for the last of those 150,000 miles and headed out to get some new wheels. When we stepped out of the Jeep and into the dealer's parking lot, we could hear the roar of the Indy cars practicing at the Speedway, just a few miles down the road. If you are a car salesman, you can't ask for better mood music. And we were in the mood.

It had been 12 years, nearly to the day, since we bought the Jeep.

Here is its replacement:

A 2007 Subaru Outback, made right up the road from us, in Lafayette.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I can hear you now: The woman who seemingly rolled her eyes at minivans in the previous post now drives a station wagon?!! Um, yes. She does. And she likes it. Quinn says that it is almost as cool as a van. What does he know? It's like, way cooler. Right? Right??!!

And so for now, I guess I'm Kanga, toting my kids around in the new 'Ru. Toting them around for another 12 years until it's time to get this dinosaur replaced. By then, Quinn will be of driving age. And by then, I'm guessing he'll have a new definition of cool.

What's Next? A Minivan?

An alternate title for this post could be: What's With This Mom and Shoes-too-small???

Yup, you guessed it. Quinn was my victim this time. I've been saying for about a month now that we need to get him new tennies. But, time slips away. And since he dresses himself now, well, I don't necessarily look at his shoes closely on a daily basis.

So this afternoon he casually says this: "Hey look - I can see my sock through my shoe."

Huh?

And sure enough, he had blown out the toes on not one, but both shoes.

OK, ok. With a small sliver of guilt leftover from the last shoe incident, I vowed that as soon as Keira got up from her nap, we would head right over to the shoe store that so deftly fit Miss K's little tootsies just the other week.

Now, here's the part where I did something I swore I'd never do: I bought him Velcro shoes. As are my feelings for minivans, so it goes for velcro: I understand its utility and can see the benefit, but it is never something I thought I'd purchase willingly on my own.

But, as it turns out, Quinn turned up his nose at the other shoes I suggested. And the one non-velcro pair we agreed on, they didn't have in his size (which, by the way, was a whole size and a half up from what he'd been wedging his feet into [surprise, surprise!]).

And then there were these:

He claimed that he loves them and wants them.
Really?
Yes.
OK. Fine.

This is what we call, in parenting circles, "Picking Your Battles". Having already had more fights than necessary over clothing these past few weeks (hey - I might not be able to detect too-small-shoes, but I can usually spot a too-small-t-shirt a mile away!), I cringed at the thought of daily fights over shoes he hates. So I caved and bought the velcro ones.

Can a minivan be far behind????

+++++++++++++++

In other family news, here is Miss K digging the sand, literally and figuratively!

And our minature golfer. Watch out Tiger Woods!

Mocking the Goldfish? Or trying to be one with the fish?...

On a Mother's Day note, I got flowers! I was beginning to think that my hubby had the impression that their sale was banned in Indiana, but alas, my concerns were for naught.

On Tuesday, Quinn's preschool class met at a local park. Parents and siblings were invited to join them. As you can see from the photo below, it was a little windy that day!

But a good time was had by all just the same.

Happiness is.....

...a friend you can lean on....

....and share snacks with, too!

Crash Landing

Today, Quinn's preschool class hosted the mommies for a little luncheon. I've been on a high from this all day - such sweetness, cuteness, innocence. The kids met us, 2 at a time, in the hallway across from their room at noon. They escorted us to our seats (designated via lovely, kid-made butterfly placemats, at tables with little white tableclothes) and even pulled our chairs out for us! We had little gifts at our seats - a handprint plaque and a flower. And we were treated like "princesses....and princesses don't throw away their own garbage!"

Have I mentioned yet how much I love these preschool teachers? Giving the kids a fabulous sense of what this world needs: Mommies as princesses.

Anyway, we dined on little sandwiches, fruit, and butterfly cookies made by the kids. We then joined them in "circle time" and they sang a few songs, including a special Mommy song. (Several tears wiped away at this point.) The day ended with one of the teachers reading this book:

Put this on your required reading list. Any mother out there will definitely get a chuckle or two from it....although I'm not sure the kids knew why we were laughing at it this afternoon.

OK - so here's the crash. Tonight while drying off Quinn after his bath, I'm telling him what a great day it was, how I loved the party, and how I know that all the other mommies did too. He then gets a thoughtful look in his eyes and tells me, "You know, Gabrielle's mommy is different than my mommy." She is? I ask. "Yes, she's smiley." She's smiley? You don't think your mommy is smiley? "Well...I have to tell you this....well...sometimes you're smiley, but Gabrielle's mom is always smiley." Oh, OK (my voice drifts off and Quinn begins a new topic - Buzz Lightyear, I think).

Thud. That comment totally brought be back to earth. I'm not smiley. In his eyes. At least not as smiley as Gabrielle's mom. I was fully-prepared just moments earlier to hear him say that I wasn't as pretty, skinny, or as nicely dressed at G's mom. But smiley? Oh man. Nice to get your mid-year evaluation from one of your little bosses and hear this.

So, I did what any self-respecting mommy would do at this point: after putting the kids to bed, I left all dishes in the kitchen sink and ate a big, fat bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream (Edy's Slow-Churned, of course - just in case the you're-not-as-skinny-as-so&so's-mom comment is next!). And I watched TV all night long.

And now, I'm smiling. It's too bad he's sleeping through it all!

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Apparently, this is how that smiling business is done:

Quinn, open those eyes! Your mommy is smiling in the next photo!

Alpha and Omega

Today was pretty much more of the same around here - Quinn at preschool, Keira getting into garbage and standing on chairs, yada, yada, yada - but the beginning and the end of the day were pretty spectacular. And here's why.

The Alpha: This morning, on the drive to preschool, I hear Keira giggling in the backseat. Apparently Quinn was making some of his hilarious faces. Her laughter encouraged him further, it seemed, and soon an all out laugh-fest erupted back there. What music to my ears, to hear them entertaining each other. A good ol' fashioned belly laugh is a great way to start the day.

The Omega: The day ended with the lovely Miss K (no, not in the beautiful dress below, but in her puppy-n-kitty PJs), sleepily patting my chest, looking up and me and saying, "Ahhh mama." Yes. She called me mama. To my face. Not when whining to her dad because she wants me back. But looking at me. Calling me mama. Yippee! She's only done this a few other times in the four months she's been home, not that I'm counting....
But OK - I am counting.
She's done it four times.
And on an in-between note, as all parents know, it is never all wine and roses (or, all juice and popsicles). You have those moments like this:

Keira constantly taking off her shoes. At home. In the car. Always in the car. Everywhere.

It occurs to me that maybe the shoes are too small. But, nah, doesn't really seem that way. Anyway, fast forward a few weeks to this week when I decide that Miss K needs nice little summer sandals. I take her to an actual shoe store. You know, to really get measured. Just in case I had, by some fluke, misjudged when I bought those very cost-effective Target sandals. So, they measure those delicate little feet and declare that she needs a size 5 1/2.

Aha! Mystery solved. I don't need Fred and Daphne and the gang to tell me that indeed, the constant shoe-removal must have been because her feet had been wedged into shoes 2.5 sizes too small.

Yeah, well, no Mother of the Year here on this cul-de-sac.

But we have happy kids (usually) and now, some happy feet.