Category Archives: funnies

Teachin’ the Teacher Tuesday: Education via Childrens’ Programming

There are two things that I do not do well:

1. Handle Change (and I am not talking money)
2. Ask for Help.

The Children’s Programming Channel that we favor in our house really likes to change things up. Shows will change time slots or disappear all together. It doesn’t seem to bother my kids, but let me tell you… it drives me up the wall when things just move. And I’ll admit… it’s not just programming changes that bug me, it can be anything that upsets my status quo. It would drive me nuts when different actors come in to play established characters, I can’t stand it when I have a plan in my mind and then we have to deviate from said plan. I think that’s why traffic really gets to me, because you can’t plan for traffic. Ugh. My husband loves to joke around that his personal version of Hell would be me and his father in one room, planning something and dealing with the inevitable change.

Another thing I don’t do well with? Asking for help. I know that I am not alone in this and I really can’t explain why it’s so hard to ask for help and the converse, why it is so hard to accept help when it is offered? My friends know me very well and they have actually started asking if I need help with specific tasks or even giving me a specific solution for my quandary.

So, our children’s televisions programming station debuted a new (random to me) program and irony of ironies, the lesson being taught today was about asking for help when you need it.

Thanks, birdies.
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Thursday’s List: Ten Ways your Toddler is kind of like a Gremlin

This post is dedicated to my little gremlins, The Bear and the Dragonfly.

10. They look super cute, but are capable of dastardly deeds.

9. Somehow they sneak the treats off the counter without being seen.

8. Two words: Sharp. Nails.

7. When words don’t work, they resort to primal wails…

6. and when wails don’t work… they bite.

5. If they are having a “moment” and you try to pick them up to console them, they somehow wiggle out of your grasp.

4. Have you tried to get an unwilling toddler in the bath? Yeah…

3. If you feed them solid foods after midnight, bad things happen

2. They come into your room, in the middle of the night, and all you hear are shuffling feet until you open your eyes and they are staring at you.

1. They are cuddly and snuggly and sing the most beautiful songs.

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Hope you enjoyed the giggle!

Pax Christi!

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Minivan Mamas vs. SUV hotties

I don’t know if this is a US thing or what. But what you drive seems to “say” a lot about you. And if you are a parent and unless you are only planning on having two offspring, you eventually have to have the discussion:

Minivan or SUV?

And as strange as this may seem, this seemingly inocuous decision will propel you into another world of cliques and groupings where the vehicle you drive can lead others to make snap decisions about you.

On the one hand you have the minivan:

Dude. I can haul a whole basketball team, plus their crap and not wrinkle my outfit!

A vehicle that screams “MAMA ON THE ROAD!” (after all it’s no coincidence that the minivan in “Cars” was voiced by a matronly sounding actress,) they are large, kind of cumbersome and despite all of the revamping and restyling by auto designers, they are essentially large boxes on wheels, but oh! The storage! Being able to haul lots and lots of crap around in your vehicle does seem to be a requirement for any mama. And the slidey doors! You know there are some parking lots that have not been repainted to make up for our ever widening vehicles, and there’s something to be said about slidey doors.

On the other hand you have the SUV:

Hey there. I may never go off road, but I guarantee, if I do, I’ll look so much better than you while doing it.

A vehicle that coyly winks and whispers “Yup, I’ve had kids but I’m still as hot as I was in high school and I haven’t given up!” These vehicles too, are large and cumbersome and some of them tend to roll over at inopportune times and are strangely box shaped as well. The storage is not as great as in a minivan, but when you are paying through the nose, who cares about storage? (and I am lumping crossovers in this category as well. Frankly, I don’t quite get the appeal of the crossover, but that’s just me. After all, it’s really an SUV on a car platform, right?)

I’m a car! No, I’m an SUV! So, I’m a car? Someone help me out, please?!

But here’s the thing… ask a young mother her opinion of minivans and you will most likely get the same answer over and over again, “Ugh. I will never drive a minivan!” I know this because I once uttered those same words. In fact, I was seriously looking for an old skool Buick Roadmaster or some other station wagon that could fit more than 5. Yeah, no luck there. But once The Dragonfly was born, things started getting a little cramped in our Passat. Now it wouldn’t be so bad, but we travel to Wisconsin a few times a year and it’s a good 12 hour drive. And if you are going for some time, you have lots of crap with you. Plus, we like to keep the kids rear-facing at least until 2 or close to that, and let’s just say that we were snug.

So we started our research. My in-laws drive a Tahoe (they live in Northern Wisconsin and have dogs) and I had the chance to drive theirs. I won’t lie, it was nice… being up so high, above all of the cars, but the Environmental Science teacher in me had a hard time rectifying the gas guzzler. I had always dreamed about the Volvo XC70, which to me is more of a station wagon than a crossover, and you can get three car seats across in it, but that’s a little out of our price range. And if we have more than three, then we are in the same pickle. So, that left us with the Minivan.

But you want to know what? I could look at myself as a Minivan Pretty Young Thing (MPYT from here on) because my vehicle, to me, is not a status symbol, but sometimes characterizations are cool. It is a mode of transportation for my family. I’m a MPYT in Spin class with all of my SUV hottie counterparts, and I am equal to them in every way, excepting that I most likely didn’t pay as much for my vehicle. Just because I drive a minivan doesn’t mean that I have to give up drinking my Gin and Tonic or my Scotch or my champagne for White Zinfandel or Wine Coolers. It doesn’t mean that I have to exchange my dresses and skirts for high-waist elastic jeans and a Cat Sweater. It doesn’t mean that I will leave my house without a stich of makeup and my hair up in rollers. I know all of this is true because,

I am not defined by my car.

Whatever you drive, don’t obsess over it. Your car does not make you who you are. In fact, unless they are a pedestrian, or parked next to you in the lot, no one should really be looking at you while you are in your car. No one is better or worse because of the vehicle they drive, as every family needs to figure out what transportation strategy is right for them. Sure, the SUV hotties seem to get more head turns as they speed by but you know what? There is only one man’s head I want to turn and it usually does when I make a lane change a little too aggressively.
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What do you drive? Do you feel as if there are unspoken cliques surrounding vehicle choice, or is this just another battle in the foolish Mommy War?

Pax Christi!

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Thursday’s List: Top Ten Signs you might be a (Caffeinated) Catholic Mama

When people hear my blog name, they can’t help but giggle a little bit. After all, it’s fairly descriptive but at the same time, I am pointing to one of my biggest vices, Caffeine. My love for caffeine is such that when I was pregnant with my children, I couldn’t give it up all the way… so I cut back. I used to think of myself as less of a person because of my coffee addiction but then, one Sunday, one of my favorite priests admitted his caffeine addiction as well and then I realized I was not alone. He is much better with his crutch that I am… in fact, I believe he gives up coffee for all of Lent. Wednesdays and Fridays are traditional fasting days and it would be wise of me to consider fasting from my coffee on Wednesdays and Fridays…

A friend posted on FaceBook a list of things that indicate a certain level of Catholicism and it kind of got me thinking, what characteristics are indicative of a post-modern Catholic Mama, like me? So without further ado:

Top Ten Signs You Might Be A (Caffeinated ) Catholic Mama

10. After morning prayers, you sit and make your list of things to do for the day because you have the attention span of a squirrel.

9. When your kids fall and scrape their knee, you inspect the wound and then tell them to offer their physical pain up to those poor souls in purgatory.

8. Your idea of abstinence is unplugging the coffee pot (or hiding the French Press) for a while.

7. You would be aghast at the thought of taking your kids to the market in their PJs but if it means getting to daily Mass on time, they are going in those footies! (that was me in February.)

6. Your baby’s first words are: Mama, Dada, Amen and Coffee

5. Your toddler has no clue what Adoration is but she knows that she should whisper when in there.

4. Your kids play Mass with the food in their kitchen set rather than “cooking” with it.

3. Religious Art depicting The Blessed Virgin lactating isn’t “weird” to your kids.

2. Your preschooler treats “StarWars” as a call and response. (Film: “May the Force be with you.” Little Voice: “and also with you.”)

1. The folks at Starbucks see your red Swagger Wagon after Sunday Mass and they have your order ready when you walk through the door!

ETA: One more… let’s call this #1a: Guest lists to family parties are not complete unless one or more Priests or Deacons are invited!

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The iced coffee that now resides in my ‘fridge comes from The Pioneer Woman. Thanks to Anne at Modern Mrs. Darcy and Suzanne for introducing me to this recipe for heaven in a cup. Personally, I sweeten with simple syrup (a 1 part sugar to 2 parts water ratio.) Yum.

Pax Christi!

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Thursday’s List: 10 ways to tell someone is from the Milwaukee Area

I grew up in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Actually in a suburb of Milwaukee called… South Milwaukee, but we didn’t move there until I was ten, so I am SE Wisconsin through and through. It’s funny, when people think of Wisconsin, they think of cows and cheese and beer and the Packers, and all of those are true, but then they also think of the heavy “Yooper” accent that you hear in the movie “Fargo.” Now that we live in St. Louis, I do get jabbed a bit about my accent… usually it’s on words with long vowels, “motorboat” is one that comes to mind, but other than the supposed accent there are other ways to tell if someone is not just from Wisconsin, but from Milwaukee.

Are they from the “Cream City?” They might be if:

10. They can recognize the smell of yeast from years of smelling it on I-94 W.

9. The Freeway in “The Blues Brothers,” The Stadium in “Major League” and most of “Transformers 3” look really familiar.

8. They refer to any tied arch bridge as looking like “The Hoan Bridge.” (little FYI, this was the bridge and freeway that was used in “The Blues Brothers.” The “Illinois Nazis” didn’t fare too well on the unfinished project.)

7. They get a wistful look in their eyes if you mention “SummerFest” and remember when Ernest Borgnine was the Grand Marshal and a fantastic clown in The Great Circus Parade. (Ahem, 4 years of marching in that parade with the “Patriotic Band” does make me hold the Circus Parade close to my heart. But not “The Washington Post March.” After 5 miles of playing ONLY that song… oy.)

6. They know the words to “Roll Out the Barrel”… and they know that it’s about beer. (After all, the song is called “the Beer Barrel Polka.)

5. They know what Alewives are and how they smell.

4. The word “Ambrosia” makes them think of Chocolate… or Dahmer. (Seriously, he worked there.)

3. They are sad that every Major League Baseball game DOESN’T include racing sausages unless it’s at Miller Park.

2. They pronounce the word “Milwaukee” thusly: “ma-WAU-key” and the words “Kinnickinnic,” “Wauwautosa,” or “Oconomowoc” are no problems at all. (For more Wisconsin pronunciation fun, check out: Miss Pronouncer!)

1. They know that’s it’s called a “Bubbler” and aren’t afraid to prove it!

**ETA: It was brought to my attention that I forgot one very important Wisconsin/ Milwaukee-ism and it’s one that I still use quite frequently and I still get crazy looks for: The Tyme Machine. And I don’t mean a TARDIS.**

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Pax Christi!

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How Formula Marketing Came to Be: A Bit of Satire

Scene: The year is 1939. War is raging in Europe We are in a high-rise office over looking the big city. It’s late. There are two men sitting inside, wearing suits and ties and smoking. Because, after all, smoking is cool. 

Man 1: So, so, so! (Slapping Man 2 on shoulder) How’s fatherhood treating you?

Man 2: The boy is great! He’s quite the little man, I’ll tell you. Strong, happy but you know what? He takes up all of my wife’s time.

Man 1: (Guffawing) And that’s a bad thing? Take my wife, please!

Man 2: No, I am serious. Every time I look at her, she’s holding him or playing with him or cooing at him or feeding him. He’s only three weeks old, but it’s as if he’s more important than me! The feeding is the worst part… those used to be my toys. (He looks wistfully out the window.)

Man 1: But she’s still fulfilling her wifely duties, right. After all, that’s her job too.

Man 2: (makes a rude noise) NO. Because whenever I start in on her, that baby starts crying or smacking his lips and she’ll push me off to “comfort” him. And when he finally does go to sleep, she tells me that she’s (takes on a whining tone) “tired” and “doesn’t want to be touched anymore right now.” Fine. I won’t touch her, but I have needs too, dammit! (hits the table with fist.)

Man 1: Wow. That baby’s taking over everything. You can’t even touch your wife anymore. (starts laughing)

Man 2: You know it would be just better if there was a way for her not to feel so worn out. I think it’s all the milk the baby takes from her. He’s sucking on her every two hours.

Man 1: You know, that sounds familiar… hold on there, sport. (takes a drag of his cigarette and walks over to a paper-strewn desk. Begins to rifle through the papers.) Here it is! This was submitted a few weeks ago and I didn’t know where to go with it. It’s for an artificial infant feeding mix.

Man 2: How’s that?

Man 1: According to this, it’s based in evaporated milk and has a bunch of other stuff thrown in. I don’t know the science, I am just supposed to sell the stuff.

Man 1: Who’s it for?

Man 2: It’s supposed to be for mothers who can’t make their own milk, but it’s just not selling.

Man 1: If I could get some of that to my wife, I might get her in bed once in a while. I mean if that evaporated milk stuff is as good as her milk and it can buy me some time with her, I am all about it. When is the ad campaign due?

Man 2: (Takes another drag.) It’ll be tight. I have to make the pitch in 2 weeks.

Man 1: OK, let’s work on this. Because you know that  am not the only man out there cast out like a dog because of the baby. We need to figure out a way to make the regular way of feeding seem inconvenient and lower-class. We need to make this stuff sound futuristic and better because it’s made in a factory. How about this, we spin it so that we “Dads” can get more involved (snorts) because we can “help feed the baby” giving our wives more time for themselves! Do you think they’ll buy it?

Man 2: We’re smoking aren’t we? People will buy anything if you sell it right.

(Scene)

OK, yes, this was a little satire…  but for a little history: From Wikipedia:

In parallel with the enormous shift (in industrialized nations) away from breastfeeding to home-made formulas, nutrition scientists continued to analyze human milk and attempted to make infant formulas that more closely matched its composition.[4] Maltose and dextrins were believed nutritionally important, and in 1912, the Mead Johnson Company released a milk additive called Dextri-Maltose. This formula was made available to mothers only by physicians. In 1919, milkfats were replaced with a blend of animal and vegetable fats as part of the continued drive to closer simulate human milk. This formula was called SMA for “simulated milk adapted.”[10]

In the late 1920s, Alfred Bosworth released Similac (for “similar to lactation”), and Mead Johnson released Sobee.[10] Several other formulas were released over the next few decades, but commercial formulas did not begin to seriously compete with evaporated milk formulas until the 1950s. The reformulation and concentration of Similac in 1951, and the introduction (by Mead Johnson) of Enfamil in 1959 were accompanied by marketing campaigns that provided inexpensive formula to hospitals and pediatricians.[10] By the early 1960s, commercial formulas were more commonly used than evaporated milk formulas, which all but vanished in the 1970s. By the early 1970s, over 75% of babies in the United States were fed on formulas, almost entirely commercially produced.[4]

When birth rates in industrial nations tapered off during the 1960s, infant formula companies heightened marketing campaigns in non-industrialized countries. Unfortunately, poor sanitation led to steeply increased mortality rates among infants fed formula prepared with contaminated (drinking) water.[19] Organized protests, the most famous of which was theNestlé boycott of 1977, called for an end to unethical marketing. This boycott is ongoing, as the current coordinators maintain that Nestlé engages in marketing practices which violate the International Code of Marketing of Breast-milk Substitutes.

I read something somewhere and it much more succinctly sums up the whole breastfeeding/ formula feeding debate. While breastmilk is superior, Formula is not bad. Formula has helped countless babies over the years who otherwise might have fared worse. Formula Marketing is the problem.

Now, people could say that breastfeeding doesn’t need to be marketed, because it’s always there, but what does need to be marketed is how breastfeeding is a normal activity and not sexual and not deviant. We need to market that if you want to breastfeed your child, and you need help, find help and we need to market where that help can be found.

When I was pregnant with The Bear in 2006/7, I remember on my first office visit walking out with a book about fetal development and formula samples. No information about La Leche League or other breastfeeding support groups, nothing. On one of the later visits, when I made my breastfeeding intentions known, I walked about with the “Just in Case” sample bag with the cute little “Breastfeeding Kit” tag. It was a shoulder bag filled with formula samples… just in case I needed it. Again, nothing on breastfeeding support.

Why do moms fail with breastfeeding? Because they don’t have help and they don’t know where to find help. I chatted with a young mom at the park last week. She had a four month old with her and she nursed baby for one month. When I told her I was a volunteer working with nursing moms, she told me that she stopped nursing because baby would choke, cough and pull off whenever she tried to nurse, so she thought that something was wrong with her milk! (Any thoughts as to what was going on? Sounds a bit like oversupply to me.) Had this mom been with a group of  other breastfeeding moms she might have been able to nurse her baby a little bit longer, maybe even to her goal of six months.

I know that it sounds like a radical departure for a self-professed lactivist, but again… formula in and of itself if not bad. But the marketing sure is. And I am sure that sexually-deprived ad men are not to blame for formula marketing, but it does make for an interesting plot device, no?
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Tomorrow is the last day to enter to win “The Invisible World!” Click here to find out how to enter. I’m drawing the winner tomorrow!!

Pax Christi!

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7 Quick Takes Friday (Vol. 2)- The Sleep Edition

7 Quick Takes (Vol. 2)- The Sleep Edition

1.
I’ve decided that it’s time that I stop complaining about how much sleep I am not getting and just chalk it up to that’s just how it’s going to be. You know how people of advanced age only sleep 4 hours a night or so? I used to think that was because as you age, you just didn’t need as much sleep… after all you aren’t growing any more, your metabolism has slowed, it’s just makes sense you can go on less sleep. I now think that as we age, we sleep less because we have conditioned our bodies to just go on fewer hours over the years. So, I am going to stop complaining about it and will just start accepting that I am not going to be getting 7+ hours like I did when I was kid.

Sleep… it was great when we were together, but I’m movin’ on.

2.
I posted on FaceBook how my sleeping was suffering and I had quite a few friends chime in with their sleep woes. Most were parents as well and had similar stories but a friend, who doesn’t have children (yet!) talked about her poor sleep. Curious, I asked her what was up. (Now as a note: she just got married so it might have been post-wedding… activities keeping her up. LOL!) Turns out her sleep issue is her 100+ pound dog who shares a bed with her and her husband and as a result, she ends up tucked in a ball somewhere in a corner of the bed! Now, my gut reaction was to say: “get the dog out of your bed!” but then I remembered how I felt whenever people would tell me that I needed to get my child out of our bed if I made mention of poor sleep, (or if they gave me unsolicited advice in general) and so I kept my mouth shut. Sometimes people just want to complain, they don’t want you to solve their problems, because nine times out of ten, they already know the answer. And speaking of having kids in your bed… I actually slept better before we moved the Dragonfly into her own bed.

3.
Part of my problem is straight-up environment. I’m one for cool, dark room, little air movement, white noise. What I have is a snoring husband who doubles as a furnace and his iPad, which illuminates the room, plus little visitors once or twice a night. So, to compensate, I wear earplugs and an eye mask to bed and I am constantly covering and uncovering as the temps change in the room, plus getting up to escort my Dragonfly back to her bed. But we make it work. Plus, he’s heading in for a CPAP fitting next week, which should help him get better sleep as well.

4.
I wonder if sleep for adult is like for kids, cumulative. I am sure it is… it’s not like we are different species or anything. So If I sleep for 5 hours at night but take a 2 hour nap in the day that means I’ve had 7 hours total, right?

5.
I don’t understand why it is so difficult for my children to lie down and nap sometimes. If someone were offering me free time to sleep, I would so jump all over that. But that’s the difference between the adult and child mind… to a kid, there’s always something to miss and the word mundane does not exist; to an adult, there’s nothing to miss and life, at best, is mundane.

6.
I listened to the reading of “Go the <Bleep> to Sleep” by Samuel L. Jackson and I just about fell over laughing. The book is entertaining, but his delivery makes it that much more so. He starts out so gently and then morphs into Jules Winnfield toward the end! (That’s his character from “Pulp Fiction,” for those who haven’t see the film.) It’s highly entertaining, but NSFW or around little ears.

7.
Someone tweeted something that made me go “Hmmm” the other day (and I forgot to record who!) The tweet asked if a mom could have written “Go the <Bleep> to Sleep” and if so, would it have been as well received? Hmmm?

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The sweet Miss Hallie is hosting 7 Quick Takes this week as Jennifer from Conversion Diary is enjoying her babymoon with little Pamela Scholastica! Head over to Betty Beguiles to read more Quick Takes or to add your own!!

Don’t forget! You have one more week to enter to win “The Invisible World!” Click here to find out how to enter.

Pax Christi!

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The Top Ten Ways Spin Class is kind of like Childbirth

During an especially challenging spinning session this morning, I was inspired to write this post. Most of you know that I am an advocate for Natural Childbirth techniques (i.e. Drug-free) but I am going to include some stereotypes as well, so I hope this kind of makes you giggle, as thinking about it made me giggle. And I am sure my Spin Instructor, John, was seriously wondering what was going on… Enjoy!

The Top Ten Ways Spin Class is kind of like Childbirth

10. Someone is always demanding you to “Push!”

9. At some point you stop wondering, “Does the person behind me think my butt looks big?”

8. There’s a whole lot of pressure on your perineum.

7. Just when you are thinking “Hey, this is pretty easy!,” things start to get… challenging.

6. Your friends around you provide untold amounts of support

5. 60 seconds feels like an eternity

4. Two-words: Primal Grunts.

3. You are silently cursing the person who got you into that mess.

2. Hypnobirthing/ Bradley methods/ Deep Breathing/ Happy Places really come in handy.

1. When you finish, you wonder what all the fuss was all about and you are ready to do it again!

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This was meant to be tounge-in-cheek, and I hope you enjoyed it! If you follow me on Twitter, you know that I am a Spinning Fanatic and I wouldn’t have it any other way!

Pax Christi!

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Where distance is measured in minutes, not miles…

This weekend, the family decided to road trip up to the city in which The Mister and I spent our first few years of marriage… Chicago (and if you now have Frank Sinatra’s Chicago worming it’s way through your mind, you’re welcome!) Our trip, of course was not without events.

I bade farewell to the Mister on Tuesday morning as he left for the airport heading to Los Angeles for the week. Our plan was for him to fly into Chicago Friday night and we’d have the rest of the weekend to stay and play in the city. Well… you know what they say about your plans and God’s plans. Wednesday morning, I woke up feeling two steps shy of awful. I had only felt this way once before, it was last April and it was when The Mister was in California and I ended up having Strep Throat. This year, same time, same circumstance, same diagnosis. Thankfully, I was blessed with the kindness of a dear friend (and reader!) who came over and spent the afternoon with my girls allowing me to sleep and begin recovery. (Thank You again, Kristine! You are such a blessing to me.)

Just an aside: I’ve been asked if strep throat is just a “really, really bad sore throat??” If it was just a sore throat, I could deal with that. But with it being an infection, I had all of the classic infection symptoms: fever, chills, nausea, vomiting, fatigue, headache, muscle aches, and to be honest, the sore throat was minor. For me, it was difficult trying to care for my children, to feed them, diaper them, while trying to stay on my feet without keeling over or running to the vomitorium at the sight of food. That is what made the illness difficult.

Anyway, losing a day and a half of prep for illness was a challenge but not insurmountable. Friday morning, we ended up leaving about 1.5 hours behind schedule,which would come back to kind of bite me in the end. So, we hit the road in the Swagger Wagon and get about 90 miles outside of home before The Bear needs to make a potty stop. I figure, we might as well eat as it’s close enough to lunch time so we spent about an hour at a popular “PlayPlace,” with the thought that the girls would expend enough energy and sleep a good chunk of the afternoon. The original plan was to picnic at one of the many Rest Areas in Illinois which have these fantastic playgrounds, but the weather was less than cooperative. Back on the road, the girls snoozed until just south of Chicago, in Joliet, despite Mama’s chastising peoples’ driving habits (“Cruise Control People! Learn It! Use It! Love It!”; “Trucker, there is no shame in being passed by a Swagger Wagon, stop playing LeapFrog with me!”, etc) We made one last stop for potty and a mini-stretch and hopped back on the highway for the short jaunt to the city.

Along the route I spied a sign that said “67 minutes to Dan Ryan” and I, foolishly, didn’t believe it. I figured it was left over from Rush Hour traffic. No fewer than two minutes later, my speedometer went from 70 MPH to 11 MPH… and we had 26 miles to go. Guess that 67 minutes wasn’t that far off. Ah, Chicago traffic, how I didn’t miss thee.

I don’t do much driving in St. Louis in which I encounter copious amounts of traffic and you tend to forget that traffic even exists in the insular world of the suburban stay-at-home mom. But as I was sitting there on the Stevenson, I kept hearing this quote from Homer Simpson running through my head: “Gas, Brake, Honk. Gas, Brake, Honk. Honk, Honk, Honk. Honk, Honk, Punch!” Since I had my trusty GPS with me, I decided to bail on the Stevenson and let the GPS re-route me to where I was going. (Just so you know, we are staying with dear friends who have this gorgeous condo in downtown Chicago. Looking out of their windows, you have a great view of the skyline with the Sears Willis Tower, the River, The Chicago Tribune Building, The Chocolate Building, among others. Gorgeous! And Free. Tee Hee!) However, my GPS is insistent on re-routing me back to the Stevenson and when that didn’t work, wanted to re-route me to the Dan Ryan, which was just as much of a parking lot as the rest of the expressway. Sigh. After many turns and relying on my memory of the grid outline of downtown, we finally made it to the condo.

We left our driveway in St. Louis at 10:30a on Friday morning. We arrived at our Friend’s condo in downtown Chicago at 7:00p Friday night. Traveling where distance is measured in minutes, not miles, with children is not for the faint of heart.

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Pax Christi!

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When life hands you marshmallows…

My house looks like an art studio exploded… with Mr. Potato Head shrapnel

I am pretty sure I folded a load of dirty laundry… do you think they’ll notice?

The Bear looks like a pirate after receiving a slight corneal abrasion and patch to cover… Parenting Fail.

The Dragonfly wants to do nothing but sleep and nurse on my lap … did I mention it’s about 80 degrees?

So, I eat the Rice Krispie Bar and soak it all in… Livin’ the dream.

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Pax Christi!

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