Midwest adventure 2009: Chapter 1

Fun adventure so far. Airport in LA fine: Premier check-in was easy. Those frequent trips and subsequent premier status makes life so much easier. I could easily get used to travelling like this. It will be hard to go back to donkey class. But we did learn that they really don't like you to carry on hand weights. Colin had one in his backpack. I guess to workout on the plane????? Who knows. We gifted it to the airport since we couldn't bring the explosive device looking hand weight with us.

Arrival in O'hare was less than stellar. Airport was virtually empty at 10:45 but it still took over 30 minutes of waiting to get our bags. I sent Brian to get the car - he took Edwin with him. Finally (after being directed first to carousel 4, then to carousel 6, then back to carousel 4 - passengers en masse) Julia, the big boys and I get all 8 (!) pieces of checked luggage and make our way to seats to wait for Brian. His phone is dying: it's hard to get ahold of him. Meanwhile, he's been directed to a rental car shuttle pick-up that doesn't actually have pick-ups. After waiting for 35 minutes, he finally schlepps it with Ed to a different terminal to try and find a shuttle to take him to Alamo. This after calling the 800 number - which of course is in India - and then finally gets transferred to the woman at the Alamo desk in Chicago who gives him the pick-up details. Meanwhile... kids and I are waiting and we get the call to try and hop an Alamo shuttle ourselves to meet Brian at the rental site. We HAUL the bags to the curb (actually the 3rd curb if you remember O'hare's pick-up) We have as much luck as Brian getting a shuttle. No Alamo busses in sight - plenty of other ones though. So I finally sight an Alamo bus, try and flag it down, and he drives right by. The Avis driver says to me, "Did he just leave you folks stranded?" I reply that Yes! He! Did! and the nice Avis guy says "Get in, I'll take you to Alamo." Because by this time, it's 11:45 PM, I have 3 kids with me and EIGHT LARGE BAGS with me. I think he pitied me. So we "hop" in (more like lugged and hauled in: especially Julia) He takes us to the Alamo gate, but since he's in an Avis bus, he can't go in the Alamo lot. So he lets us out ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD about 150 yards from the Alamo office. We schlepp everything off the bus, I give him all the chick cash in my pocket and he pulls away. Then another Avis bus arrives to tell us that the Alamo driver who had passed us by was looking for us and was upset that we left without him. ! I decide not to argue with him, and try and make our way accross the road with my kids and the luggage to get to the other side. "Watch out for the spikes!" (as in the "Warning: Severe Tire Damage" kind) he calls to us as he stops traffic in the road for us to cross.
We haul our crap to the office to find Brian talking to the rental agent. and they have no record of our reservation. Of course!!! I handle this information very well. (OK, so I don't. I believe the word lawsuit might have been mentioned.) But I know they have a reservation because while waiting originally for Brian, I too called Alamo (thankfully remembering their "catchy" Go Alamo! slogan to get the right number... 1800 goalamo...) and I speak to a lovely man in India who tells me that no, Brian has not checked in to get his car yet - thereby confirming to me that Alamo does, in fact, have a reservation for us. When I "share" this information with the agent at the counter, she reiterates that it's not in HER computer, so obviously, I must be wrong, and would we please get out of line so she can help the next customer.
Out of line now, I do manage to get ahold of someone else in India who gets our confirmation number lickety split. Back in line we go, and she gets us a small piece of paper allowing us to drive off the lot. After a bit of confusion choosing a car (first one too small, next one too stinky, last one: just right) we hit the road to drive the mile and a half to the hotel.
[Edited to note: " So you do realize you have proven the theory, it is easier to rent a car in India, Sri Lanka, and Pakistan. Even though the main mode of transportation is a bike." jmp]

At the hotel, Brian jumps out, goes to the front desk and they happily say to him that they have everything ready - key is out and everything. Brian comes back to the car with a smile and exclaims that at least something went well.
We park and he takes a few kids up to the room with some luggage (we do this in shifts, because we have too many kids and we're sneaking one in...) and he opens the door to the room. Inside is....
One double bed. ONE. No couch. No chair.
For 6 of us....

Random venting before schlepping

Random thoughts before I resume schlepping kids to various functions and schools...

* Skinny jeans are really *not* a good fashion choice if you are a balding man.

* You can take the bluetooth out of your ear at church. God is not going to be calling you on the phone in there.

* Huge trucks and Hummers. Hmmm... head scratchers to me.

* I usually choose not to respond to crazy. It's generally better that way - don't engage fanatacism. This is why I won't share my honest opinions with:
Fans of American Idol Adam Lambert;
Objectors of Obama's commencment address at Notre Dame;
Believers of anything that comes out of the mouths of Limbaugh, Hannity, or O'Reilly;
Snub-nosers of "pop" music, culture, books or movies (although I do draw the line at "Graphic Novels" - those can be mocked.)

But as anyone who knows me well, my opinions generally have a way with leaving my mouth. I've put them here in the hopes I won't get into hot water with any of the people included in the list above - since I think I write here, generally, without an audience. Unlike facebook.
And for the record, Adam Lambert is just creepy.

* Julia learned to surf this weekend. Surf! And she loved it. I see surf boards in our future. Who would have guessed it???

*Exercising in extreme heat is purely for the insane. I truly don't understand pumping the heat up, piling on layers of clothing, and jumping around for an hour. Unless your name is Lucy Ricardo and you need to fit in that dress that Ricky doesn't know you bought, otherwise... just don't do it.

That's it. A little bit of random this monday... off to schlep

Cookie Time!

Many moons ago, I was a Girl Scout Leader. Never a Girl Scout myself (Camp Fire Girl, "WoHeLo," thank you very much) As a Girl Scout Leader, I needed to attend various "trainings" on how to lead a small group of 5 year olds in craft-making and singing. You'd be surprised at how much training is needed for this. You'd also be surprised at the minutiae of detail that women's organizations get mixed up in. Many forests have been lost, I'm sure, making certain that every rule is first created, then followed, and finally documented. 98% of the rules are ridiculous. (The biggest one was regarding siblings of the Girl Scouts. They are never allowed to be near the scouts at any event/meeting. So as a Leader, if you have other kids - and most do - then you need to find babysitters for them. Babysitters....so you can "volunteer" your time to an organization that doesn't allow "Tag-alongs." Yep, that's the name they give them. They liked the name so much, they named a cookie for it.) You will not find this kind of detailed training in Cub Scouts. I guess the men just don't see the need. Consequently, IMO, Cub Scouts is WAY more fun. But I digress...

So my stint as a Leader didn't last long since I'm not exactly the person who *likes* to follow ridiculous rules. Just the one year. And it was the only year that didn't involve selling cookies.
Now that we are getting close to cookie time, even more rules are being created to make sure everyone looks and feels like headless chickens.

The following is a list of instructions/commandments that I received attached to a volunteer "request" this week in my inbox. Unable to fulfil the request myself (other mothering duties having already been scheduled) I passed it along to Brian. Who, with *some* cajoling, agreed to represent the Girl Scout Troop at the "Cookie Warehouse."

This list works best as a dramatic reading, with Phantom of Opera music playing in the background:

* At least two people from each troop with hand trucks (dollies, if available) and car space to accommodate your entire order. Each troop must be represented.
* Absolutely No Children allowed. You will be asked to leave with your child. (No, this is not a perk!) Please make child care arrangements in advance.
What we’ll be doing:
*Break down the pallets and distribute cookies troop by troop.
*Based on the configuration of the warehouse, we will have two lines working, each
line distributing cookies to the troops farthest away from each other and working
towards meeting in the center.
* Stack the cookie cases, only 5 cases high– one flavor against the wall, then the next
flavors away from the wall.
* Cookies cases will be counted & verified by (name removed) ONLY.
* Receipts will be signed by (name removed) ONLY.
* Cookies will then be taken out by troop, per the sign-in sheet.
* Everyone will help load all of the cars.
* When your car is loaded, park it and come back to help others load. If you need to
load another car, bring the next one after you have moved the car by the warehouse.
* This year, cars will be allowed to back into the warehouse. This should make loading
cars move faster. However, it is not a green light to leave once you are loaded. I do
ask that everyone returns and help the next troop load.
** If we all work together, we’ll be able to leave in 1-2 hours. Remember, YOU cannot leave until every troop’s order has been loaded.

When I read the list aloud to him (dramatically, of course) Brian wonders how on earth everyone can *effectively* gather around one car at a time to load it. Hmmm... good point. I guess he'll just have to wait and see. I'm sure there will be some woman (women?) there just waiting to direct him. He's so gonna love it...

Snow Days in Tahoe

Extreme Weather

OK, so there’s “Murphy’s Law:” Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. Then there’s “Danahy’s Law.” Danahy’s Law states that when on vacation, we will encounter the most extreme weather fluctuations possible. Phrases like “It’s never been this hot,” and “we never get snow in April” or “it’s never been this cold at the beach during spring break” punctuate our attempts at vacationing. Whether it’s heat waves in the summer or snow storms in the winter, it will inevitably be record-breaking weather that we experience.

We are just coming back from a weekend in Lake Tahoe. Just coming back as in I’m typing while driving down the mountain. In fact, we just stopped to take the chains off the front tires (front wheel drive and all) because there are chain controls on Route 50. It’s a drive I don’t particularly enjoy, given the steep, death-defying cliffness of it. But after this summer (of record temperature heat, remember) and driving (OK- front-passengering) the cliffs of the Italian Cinque Terre, Route 50 doesn’t seem as bad. And now my hands smell like chain. Ah frozen icey goodness.

We came up to spend a ski weekend with the cousins in Lake Taco (or “Chicago” as Ed keeps mistaking it for…) We lucked out on the drive up = no major weather issues. Brian ingested 2 coffees, 3 sodas and a Monster brand beverage in an attempt to stay awake on the drive up Thursday night. We made it up safely and awake, but then he couldn’t fall asleep (see beverage consumption above.) Friday morning arrived bright and early (and loudly) with the cousins waking to find Julia and Ed on the floor of their room. Much laughter (and maybe some wrestling?) ensued. After a breakfast made by Aunt Hilary the chaos continued with the preparations for the ski outing. The six oldest kids were outfitted and readied for a day on the slopes – with temperature highs in the mid 20’s. Uncle Chris and Brian got all the kids to Sierra at Tahoe for the day while Aunt Hilary, Stephen and I stayed home in the warm and toasty house. They spent their morning skiing – a subject that I don’t know enough about to comment on. I hear they had fun. I’ll leave it at that. Edwin conked out in the lodge and Uncle Chris had 5 kids to himself at one point while Brian watched a sleeping Ed.

Hilary and I spent the morning trying to win tickets from the radio station to go see Dana Carvey. Which would have been AWESOME: I hear he does “chopping broccoli” in operatic form. Alas, we did not win tickets. But I may have some explaining to do when the cell phone bill comes… We enjoyed our day together playing with Stephen and facebooking. And I finally got to try out the lovely eating establishment Sprouts that my friend Jenny raves about.

To celebrate Valentine’s Day, Brian and I got out for breakfast at a cute little place (“Ernie’s”) which is located across the street from the original coffee shop (“Bert’s.”) I hear there is another family owned place in Folsom. (I’m guessing the name is “Big Bird’s.”) Then it was off to more skiing for Brian and the big boys. Again, I’m told it was fun. It really sounds less than fun to me, so I’ll take their word for it. Tahoe continued their snow-storm. Only the second big one of the year. Of course it was! Danahy’s Law and all… The young 5 spent almost the entire day outside building forts, creating elaborate tunnels and digging snow paths in the front yard. They only came into eat lunch and wait for the snow clothes to thaw and dry, then it was back out again.

Hilary and Chris got ready for their big night out. It was the anniversary of their first date 15 years ago. Brian and I took on dinner and babysitting duty. It wasn’t hard really, (seriously, what’s 3 more kids?) except for the small diaper detail. As a parent, once you are done with diapers, you are *totally* done with diapers. As in never, ever! want to change another one. I tried telling Stephen earlier in the day that he could only poop for Mommy. Yeah, that didn’t work so well. So after dinner and dessert (because Brian bought 2 cakes) I got treated to diaper duty and Stephen got treated to a bath. BTW, he *does not* like getting his hair washed. It was at about this point that Obexer decided that he was done with this party and retreated upstairs to sleep.

Then we were on to bath #2 with the middle boys. To entertain a now clean Stephen, he was offered a story. And when he picked Colin to read to him, we were all a little surprised (Colin most of all.) Colin dutifully (if not *very* expediently) read the required stories while I bathed the middle boys. Then the girls were off to shower – after which then necessitated curler application by Aunt Joelle. A little “Princess Diaries” viewing and then it was off to slumber land – thankfully not protested, due to the immense amount of snow play during the day. The big boys even went to bed fairly easily out on the sofa bed too.

“I bet everyone will be asleep in their beds when we get home. Except Joelle.” Uncle Chris was right. I was waiting up for them.

A little more snow play was necessary before our trip home on Sunday morning. This one had the benefit of a true snowball fight between and Aidan and the Three Musketeers (Uncle Chris, Edwin and Peter.) After which we packed up the car and headed up and then down the mountain toward home. A very white, wet weekend it was.

25 Random Things About Me

1. I have an almost paralyzing fear of driving over bridges – which I can trace back to the bridge scene in “Saturday Night Fever.” An R rated movie that my parents let me watch at age 9.

2. I still know my Junior High locker combination: 5-7-41 (top locker: right above Maya Haywood’s) At the time I was petrified I would forget the combination – and I believe this fear did etch the number on my brain to be remembered *forever.*

3. “Forever” by Judy Blume was my favorite book in 6th grade. This fact scares me now as a mother of a daughter quickly approaching 6th grade… not to mention that I didn’t want my 7th grade son reading “Breaking Dawn” with a far less explicit sex scene in it. (He read it anyway. Checked the book out from the school library himself.)

4. As a junior I was kicked off the High School track team for mouthing off to the coach.

5. I am not the only person who knew that if you walked far back enough underneath the SPHS bleachers, you could see into the boys’ locker room.

6. I can listen to a song 100 times and still not know all the words. Unless the song came out between 1982 and 1989. Then I can probably sing you the verse, bridge and chorus.

7. I have never (nor plan to ever) seen the movie “Titanic.”

8. I started college as a film major.

9. I was taught gospel spirituals by a 105 year old woman named Miss Emma. She also taught me the virtues of prune juice.

10. I am happy that I still communicate with people I went to Kindergarten with.

11. I have lived in Los Angeles and Washington DC but have only been robbed in France.

12. One day I will go to Argentina with the sole purpose of learning to Tango properly.

13. I re-learned how to drive a stick-shift on narrow, winding Italian roads with 4 kids in the car.

14. I gave birth to a 10 pound baby boy at home. On purpose.

15. I love that I married a man who laughs freely at television shows (and Buddy the Elf,) but who occasionally cries at sappy movies. And commercials.

16. I have seen every episode of ER. And to this day I get teary-eyed if I hear the version of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” that played while Mark Greene died.

17. I drink at least a double espresso every day.

18. I feel that I still have time to decide what I want to be when I grow up.

19. I wake up 5 days a week at 4:30 AM to exercise.

20. I learn more about God from 4 year olds in Sunday School than I do in 6 months of homilies.

21. I wish that John Hughes would make a movie about middle-aged people with kids. I would like to see his take on this part of life.

22. I am perfectly OK with going to bed having a sink full of dirty dishes.

23. Given the choice, I prefer waking up to a clean kitchen. But #22 usually wins out.

24. My uterus is a children’s beacon: no matter where I am (movie, restaurant, plane ride, concert, theater) my seat will always be next to children (and not my own children!) If I ask for a different seat, the children will either follow, or new kids will come in and sit near me. Every. Time.

25. I play a mean game of Dodge Ball.

The Stomach Flu

The Stomach Flu.
Three words guaranteed to send everyone running away from you. Julia came down with the stomach bug on Saturday morning - right as the hot water heater went out and just after the play date had arrived. What started as the whiny "My stomach hurts," turned into full-fledged stomach flu about an hour later. And lasted all day long. She couldn't even keep ice down. Her stomach really hurt her, and we all knew it. Over. And. Over. Again. The crying lasted as long as the flu bug did.
On the repair front, luckily my (extremely handy) neighbor was not only home, but willing to go down to Osh for me and purchase the hot water heater part, which he then installed for me. And luckily, Ed wasn't sick so the play date had someone to play with while I tended to Julia. So those issues were a relatively easy fix. (Note to self... go buy Tom a case of thank you beer ...)

Julia was a bit better by Sunday, but not exactly well enough to go with me to pick the big boys up from their Floridian week-long winter escape (because you really need to escape that brutal LA winter...) My other neighbor offered to watch Julia so I could get the boys - and Ed and I journeyed down the 405 to pick up "the brothers." Everyone had really enjoyed the previous week - with the exception of the school restarting for Julia and Edwin. The big boys had a great time being spoiled and pampered by Dad and grandparents, and the little two and I enjoyed the peace and quiet of home. The only two kid thing would have been a bigger piece of cake, if not for the stomach flu that hit on Saturday. Being the sweet and loving child that he is, there was no way Edwin was avoiding catching the flu from his sister. (Because if she gets to lay in bed and watch TV all day, then I want to do that too. And be right next to her. And breathe in all her germs.)
So Monday morning as I'm on the phone with the school excusing Julia's absence, I hear:
"Mom! Ed's throwing up!"
To which I quickly add another excused absence to the call right then and there, and escape off the phone to clean up. Or decontaminate. While Edwin didn't have the wherewithal to be sick in the bathroom, at least he chose the tile floor and the kitchen trash can. After his initial projections, I get him into the bathroom seated on the floor.
He looks up with a grin and proclaims proudly: "I threw up 8 times!"
"Eight?" I ask.
"Yep. 8. I counted." he answers, still grinning.
And so I start the Cloraxing and the laundry. When determining what more needs immediate cleaning attention, I ask him, "Ed, did you throw up in the bed?"
"Nope," he replies, "I just peed in it."

While dealing with the stomach flu is possibly the worst gig as a parent, it was not lost on me that we have it relatively easy here in this country. We have access to clean water. And working sewer lines. We have power and heat, and if you count noodles as a food group, plenty of food. Thank God we don't live in Zimbabwe, where cholera is raging. And the life expectancy is in the mid-thirties. Where you aren't just knocked out by vomiting; you are dying from it. I know this because the boys brought me back the Washington Post from their trip home through Dulles Airport. I'm not sure I would know this if I was left only to the LA Times. A paper which dedicated not one, but two! large sections to the winter replacement TV shows and the 2009 movie guide. The fluff I found in this past Sunday's Post was how to park and walk to the Inauguration, complete with maps. Oh, and a bit about a reader contest to design Michele Obama's dress. Say what you want about the liberal media... at least the Post has real news in it.

So I'm home taking care of recovering kids. Edwin's case of the flu was much milder... thank goodness. The house smells like Lysol. And I hope I've cleaned enough to prevent Colin and Aidan from coming down with it. I'm crossing my fingers and knocking wood, because there is only so much flu one person should be required to handle. I wait (not so patiently) for Brian to return from the business trip. To Italy. I'm so jealous that he is there.
I. Can't. Even. Stand. It.