Boo

The mornings around here resemble a split personality. They start off very quietly (and darkly, thanks to daylight savings time for a few more days) and then manifest to full blown chaos in a sudden, blink of an eye, transformation.

Today was no exception. Well maybe a *bit* of an exception as it's the day before Halloween AND Edwin's birthday. On the days that I don't crawl (slowly) out of bed to go to the gym for spin class, I take advantage of a little lie-in and usually shout wake up calls to the various kids. It goes something like: Wake-up (smiley face) "OK mom" I hear from Julia. Colin is, of course, already awake in the kitchen reading the sports section - so he just grunts so I can hear him. Wake Up! (a little louder) then WAKE UP!!!! AIDAN GET OUT OF BED. Mumblings are then heard from that area of the house. This is quickly followed by EDWIN!!! Get DRESSED!!! Then the bickering starts. And yes, Aidan starts it all. NO TALKING!!!! I shout. (I have had a "No talking" policy for many years now. Say what you will, but the less talking = the less whining/fighting/complaining I have to listen too. They are, of course, allowed to talk *to me* - but only after I've had a coffee.)

But today was different. Today they were all excitedly up. Today is some kind of "dress up" day at each respective school. Dressing up is a rite of childhood. One that should (and is) enjoyed and looked forward to with as much anticipation as Christmas eve. So much so that dressing up now needs more parameters. The high school principal sent out a message earlier this week urging parents:

*PLEASE* make sure the teens were dressed appropriately for the Halloween dress up day on Friday. Yes, students may come dressed up, but please leave the "sexy ________ (nurse/pirate/cop/doctor/fairy/princess)" outfits at home. Students violating dress code will be loaned clothing or will need clothes brought to them by parents.

Obviously, this has been an issue in the past. And given the state of what they wear on a daily basis - I can only imagine the costumes. So Colin is dressed up like a Yankee player (Posada. I know this because I ironed on those letters last night in between making birthday goodie bags and decorating the puppet for the first grade project, all while getting myself dressed for Taekwondo) He looks great. What doesn't look so hot are the Addidas warm up pants that now say "New York Yankees" written messily down the legs in white out. Sigh. Oh well, points for him for wanting to be completely decked out.

Aidan didn't go for the costume but instead got up EARLY AND ON HIS OWN to paint his face ghoulishly white and black. The theme for his school is "dress up for 'Say No To Drugs Week'" Seriously? What kind of no fun dress up day is *that*??? He worked hard and is artistic (mom crows proudly) so the face turns out great. He's just wearing a black shirt and shorts - no costume needed for him. What is needed is a minor adjustment to the make-up, because when he comes out to the kitchen (after many LOUD requests to GET IN THE CAR NOW!!!) he is sporting a bloodied bullet-hole in his forehead drawn with the carefully applied face paint. AIDAN!!!! GO TAKE THAT OFF RIGHT NOW!! "Why???????? Ugh!!!!!!!!!" He stomps off. HURRY UP!!!! I shout.

Meanwhile, I'm making an egg (his favorite - fried with salt and pepper please) for the birthday boy who himself is dressed up for "Clash" day. (No, sadly, *not* the band - but how cool would those costumes have been?) "Clash" day is miss-matched day and Edwin did his plaid/stripe/color combos very well. He definitely clashes, and takes delight in it. The other thing he delights in? His birthday. He must have mentioned it about 15 times yesterday in class his teacher told me after school. Yep, that happens when you are 7. I will be bringing him a very specific lunch to school as a special birthday treat (he has placed his order with me every day since I brought Julia *her* birthday lunch 16 days ago....) He will be bring goodie bags for his classmates today because it's now against the "law" to bring food to celebrate birthdays at public schools. Some teachers turn a blind eye. Others don't. We settled for donating a book to the class library and pencil/eyeball bouncy ball goodie bags. Because nothing says 7 year old boy more than an eyeball bouncy ball.

Now we are in the car - heading toward the school drop off route. Colin first. Then Aidan sans bullet hole: "Aidan, there is a one word reason why you can't go to school with a bullet hole in your head. Do you know what that word is????"

"Columbine." he mutters. He's miffed about ruining the artistic rendition on his forehead, but (Thank God) he gets why it's inappropriate.

Finally off the to elementary school where Ed is chomping at the bit to get out and start his birthday at school. Julia is decked out wildly for clash day: neon green and black striped tights; brown boots; purple and grey plaid SHORT skirt; tye-died t-shirt; polka dotted sweatshirt and pink polka-dotted head band (after *much* deliberation, the hair is left down today) She watches Edwin leave the car and then horrifically asks me,
"Mom, are you SURE it's 'Clash' day???" With the jackets that kids are wearing as we watch them walk up the hill, we don't see anyone else dressed up. Uh-oh. "Let me call the office right now and check, Julia" I answer her. I call. I check. It IS "Clash" day.
"Yes, Julia it is." I reassure her. "But MOM, NO ONE ELSE IS DRESSED UP!!!" she cries. As in, she's crying now. Hysterically. And won't get out of the car.
As much as I know that there will be some kids at school dressed up, I realize how Julia will feel if she's one of the few. (Part of this dilemma stems from "Clash" day being announced just the day before in the parent bulletin that goes home. It wasn't mentioned around school: no posters, signs, announcements were made. And not many parents actually read the bulletin that may or may not make it out of the child's backpack...) So I call my friend Lori over to the car as she's walking by and we ask her opinion of what to do. "Go home" she says. "Let her change." Yeah, that was my gut too. So we pull an illegal U-turn in the school zone, almost get hit by another car zooming down the hill, and speed home for Julia to get normal clothes. Changed and back in the car, we zoom back up the hill and she gets out - visibly relieved. I make her take the "Clash" clothes in her backpack so she can change back later "just in case." I hope she does. Dress-up at school is part of being a kid.

And that was the full blown morning end to the chaos that is Ed's birthday/Day before Halloween. All before 8 AM. Boo.

"Hey guys! You forgot me!" Chapter 3

We had a lovely day at Notre Dame. The campus is host to many conferences and sports' camps in addition to the alumni family hall (where we are staying) during the summer, so there is no shortage of people on campus. There are curiously few people here in our alumni hall - but maybe I'm wrong about that. The walls of the rooms are so thick, that it's hard to tell how many people are actually roaming the halls. This is one of the few pluses of the dorm.



We were able to partake of a few Notre Dame highlights today. One being the dining hall. All you can eat menu is particularly helpful when travelling with teenaged boys. My stomach literally hurt watching Colin eat the enormous amount of food on his plate; but not as much as watching the athlete at dinner. I have never seen that amount of food consumed by one person at a sitting. His small side dish was 6 hard boiled eggs.



We had a mellow day - riding bikes and going for a jog around the lake. We even went for a swim at "The Rock" (athletic center named for Knute Rockne). When we returned to the dorms to get ready for dinner, we met up with a family with 3 small kids (dad with child in one arm, porta-potty seat in the other) and as they hadn't checked in yet, we let them in to the dorm - after trying several doors - with our key. We continued up to our 3rd floor rooms. We were here about 10 minutes when Brian went to retrieve something from the kids' room. He returned shaking his head. "What happened?" I asked. He explained that while in the kids' room he heard this little voice shouting, "Hey guys! Up there! Let me in! You forgot me!'



It was Ed. Outside the building. In our haste to help the new family check into the dorm, we forgot one of our kids outside. Thankfully, Ed was content to play on the volleyball court for awhile until he decided he wanted in.



Grandparents arrived this evening - and god bless them - are roughing it in the dorms with us. The kids are super excited to see them. Colin, especially, since he knows that Papa will willingly visit the College Football Hall of Fame with him. Edwin and Julia are happy because they have their collective eyes on a 12"x18" package of Rice Crispie Treat in the student center. They tried to get me to buy it for them. I told them to wait and ask Papa.



We might kick the big boys out again tomorrow to roam the campus. Today, we gave them some money and the directive of not to return for 2 hours. It was great.

Sitting on a bed in a boy's Notre Dame 103 year old dorm room: Chapter 2

In case you were worried (and really, why wouldn't you be?) we were able to switch our hotel room last night to a room with a king bed and a pull out sofa "double" bed. I did know that we would be one bed short on this part of the trip, so we did bring a blow-up bed. In the small room, we had Julia & Aidan (plus all their bickering) on the pull-out sofa, Edwin on the sofa cushions in the corner on the floor and Colin on the blow-up twin mattress - which was blown up in the bathroom, sticking into the tub. Kids in bed - at 1:30. I decide that Brian and I need to unwind a bit so I forage in the lobby and come up with a snack kit (like the kind they sell you on a plane) and one bottle of Corona and one small plastic bottle of Chardonney. We sit down to picnic in the bathroom. Yep. Me on the toilet. Brian on the edge of the tub. Sharing trail mix and chugging wine out of the bottle. All class I tell ya. Then off to (not) sleep so we can get up and not miss breakfast.

We spent a lovely day in Chicago. The sun was out!!! A nice change for us since June has far surpassed its historical gloom period in L.A. After packing up the car (Dodge Grand Caravan, fairly comfortable, with hidden storage compartments in the floor: kids love 'em) we head into the Chicago expressway parking lot to get downtown to meet Uncle Jim for lunch. Uncle Jim is Brian's cousin and Colin's godfather, so it's easier just to refer to him as Uncle Jim. We meet for deep dish (what else?) pizza at Pizzeria Uno - a famous Chicago institution. After not a very long wait, we are taken into the depths of this small and historic restaurant to a corner table where much pizza is consumed. Jim is my age. And not married. But has a girlfriend! Which is the first time in 15 years I've heard him utter this term. I was *very* restrained and only asked 3 questions about her. I'm quite proud of myself and my restraint. Brian contends that this is why Jim still likes me.

After much pizza - we took a walk down to Lake Michigan and Navy Pier - a common haunt for us when we used to live in the Chicago area 10 years ago. We came upon an event unlike one any of us have ever seen before. The Second Annual Windy City International Professional Footbag Championship. Footbag: aka "Hackey Sack" They've turned it into a sport. Think 2 on 2 Volleyball only with feet and a tiny bag like ball. Played on a court surrounded by miniature stands and a hushed crowd. It was richly bizarre. But much fun to watch. And mock.

Once on the pier we all went up in the ferris wheel for a great view of the skyline. I was a little freaked out... then a few more attractions on Navy Pier before a walk back to the car via a Lavazza! coffee shop for gelato and espressos. yummy yummy. We said goodbye to Jim, made a pit stop at the Jewel grocery store (where I could use my Albertson's card for extra savings!) and off into the car for the drive to Notre Dame.

We rolled into South Bend around 8:30 and found the Family Hall to check in. It's in Carroll Hall, on the outskirts of campus by the lake. The dorm is 103 years old. So of course no elevator. And we have all those bags...It's a boys' dorm during the school year. The kids are in one room, Brian and I are in another. It's kind of like camping... I'm not sure I need to say much more than: boys' dorm; Notre Dame; and 103 years old. But! The kids are in a quint, and we're in a triple so we actually have too many beds tonight. Oh, the irony.

Since we arrived in South Bend so late (it's now in the Eastern Time Zone year round) most things on campus were closed for dinner. So we went to Bob Evans (and ate things that I'm pretty sure would have earned me about 100 push-ups in bootcamp) and were served by a lovely gal by the name of Kritter. With a K. Gotta love Indiana.

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