My mom delivered . . . for once

As promised, I was treated to a very special, all eyes on me day at the zoo last weekend. I won't get into the fact that it took an hour and a half to get there because, technically, construction on the El isn't my mom's fault.

When we finally arrived, we started at the farm portion of the zoo. Underwhelming. The big attraction at the farm is that you can touch the animals.  Gross. I let my fingertips skim a goat's hair. He was weird. It was weird. I won't be doing it again. When given the option to feed a cow and pet her nose, I just told my mom to take my turn for me.

Huhrumph!

I spent the majority of my time at the farm telling my parents how much I wanted to visit the bears. We eventually made our way to see them. There was a sleepy sun bear, who was nothing to write home about.

Then, I saw him. The polar bear. He was amazing. He splashed. He dove for a big rubber ball. He even got out of his pool to poop on the faux rocks in his environment. Bears are the best. Bears are smart enough to know that you don't poop where you play. Let's see how long it take The Mare and Piglet to figure that one out!

Peas and Carrots

Making the best of a rainy Thursday

We can certainly all agree that the rain put a damper on everyone's Halloween plans yesterday, no?

The learning center had to cancel our annual trip to trick-or-treat at the retirement home down the street. All of the children cried "Boo hoo! We want to eat Werther's Original, too!" 

In the end, it was for the best. We had a great party in the toddler room (I brought the string cheese) and I don't think anyone at the retirement home would have gotten Gavan's Marty McFly costume, anyway. Annabelle was, predictably, dressed as some Disney princess. Ryan was something with a cape and fake muscles. I don't even know if Blake was there or not. Maybe he went as Mr. Invisible. I owned the day with my Senator Leia Organa ensemble.

Please, don't call me "Princess."

After school, I went trick-or-treating in the neighborhood near my dad's train station. I received plenty of accolades for my costume but I'll admit the whole night fell apart when I saw a 12 year old boy in a scary clown mask. Game over. No thanks! No time! Even after he took off his mask to show me that it was all pretend, I could not be comforted. Besides, it was starting to rain again and time to go home.

Even though I'm the one who did all of the work, I was only allowed one "fun" sized Three Musketeers bar as my dessert. I suspect my parents ate everything else after I went to bed. Kind of a rip off, since they didn't even wear costumes, but whatever.

Now, after a month of birthday parties, visitors, and Halloween, I'm looking forward to settling into a cool, relaxing November. Time to curl up with some lukewarm cocoa and catch up on all of the Dr. Suess I've been meaning to read this fall.

I'd like to change my middle name to "Culture," please

This weekend, I had the pleasure of enjoying a trip to the theater and a ladies' lunch with my aunties. They insisted we bring my mom, too. Whatever. Somebody had to push my stroller to the train station, I suppose.

The Teddy Bear Picnic is billed as "a cultural experience for children 0-4 on their own terms." My terms included freaking out when I saw a man in turn-of-the-century newsboy garb enter the room with a bird puppet. No thanks! No time!

Instead of following him from the lobby to the theater, I opted to leave the building screaming and watch the other kids trot after him, Pied Piper style. I find that skepticism has served me well in life. After a few minutes, I noticed that none of the kids were reemerging from the theater and I feared the worst. So, I investigated.

I popped my head past the curtain to find Mama Bear and her toddler-sized son, Buddy, planning a delightful picnic and letting all of the kids in the room help. Well, I certainly wasn't going to be the only one left out. I gathered my aunties (my mom followed, too) and took a spot on an empty picnic blanket. It turned out to be pretty magical. I got to pretend to be a firefly AND a butterfly and at the end, I had a one-on-one photo op with Buddy, himself.

Two fabulous bears sharing one fabulous picnic.
One of us is a little less interested in having her photo taken.

After the show, my aunties (and mom) went to a local restaurant where I ordered and ignored food and was allowed to play with stickers for a full hour. Because I am a lady, I did not have to sit in a high chair. Because my mom is lame, I was not allowed to play with the Tabasco sauce bottle or the packets of Sweet 'n' Low. It was a very grown up and mature meal.

Dear aunties, if you are reading this, please leave my mom at home next time.

Accepting that I won't be good at everything I try

I took tumbling this summer. It wasn't my greatest success story. I blame my parents for making me miss the first week to travel for the 4th of July. Because of them, I never learned how to do a somersault and never really took to any other skills. Don't even get me started on the complicated routines we were supposed to follow. No thanks! No time!

For the last class, Miss Edie, who I'm certain had just woken up at a home that wasn't her own, allowed us to do whatever we wanted. What I most wanted to do was run away from away from JJ, a three-year-old boy far whinier than any three-day-old I've ever met. I'm pretty sure JJ and his mom are going to be roommates well into his 50s. I assume when his mother passes away, JJ will pretend to keep her clothing and home for posterity but will totally pull a Norman Bates.

 

Since running away from JJ wasn't really an option,
I decided to cling to a large piece of foam for 45 minutes
and enjoy the fact that I'd never have to return to the gymnastics center.

 

Is that Alexis Neiers I see over there?

It wasn't my birthday, it wasn't Christmas, and, unless there's a "Parents Finally Wise Up Day," it wasn't even a special occasion. Yet, when I woke up last weekend and wandered into my mom and dad's room, I found a shiny new tricycle hiding in the corner.

Assuming it was mine (I'm not interested in hearing what it was doing there if it wasn't for me) I took it for a spin around the apartment. While I was forced off of my trike to eat breakfast, my interest in pancakes was short lived and I was back on my killer wheels in time to read a few books before getting dressed.

I should have listened to my gut. I should have never gotten off of this tricycle. Ever.

I'll admit it. I really felt like something special when my family finally made it outside. The sun was shining, the crisp sound of my bike bell permeated the soundscape and I was finally at eye level with the neighborhood dogs. Heads were turning. People were stopping my parents to ask where they got my amazing trike. I was on top of the world.

But, as Marie Antoinette would tell you, if her larynx was still connected to her mouth, being on top is pretty much the same as having a target on your back. Three different people tried to boost my precious tricycle on its first day out.

The first event was innocent enough. Some amateur tried to climb on while I was distracted by a shiny slide. No big deal. The wood chips at the play lot in question made pedaling impossible and the potential larcenist was removed by his mother before he could even ring the bell. Top notch parenting!

I have less than stellar reviews for the parents in the other two cases of attempted petty theft. I can't decide which was more insulting.

One mom watched as her dip kid, Ronnie, climbed aboard. She cheered Ronnie's excellent steering skills. She clapped for Ronnie as he sped up. My mom, dad and I watched with our mouths agape. My parents have manners and knew we weren't leaving without my tricycle, so they didn't say anything. When Ronnie's dud mom finally relented that it was "The Bear's turn" and Ronnie should step off, Ronnie lost it. Meanwhile, I was about to lose it right back. My turn? MY TURN!?!



This is my tricycle. You were not invited to take it for a spin.
Consider this your warning that there are no turns.
It permanently belongs to me. We are not on a trike timeshare.

Not to be outdone by Ronnie's mom, the third thief apparently didn't have parents at all. While I was on the swings at a different park, my mom saw a kid run up to my tricycle and throw my navigator, Ben the Bear (not to be confused with my boyfriend, Ben, or myself, The Bear), right out of his seat. He put his muddy sneakers on my pristine peddles and started driving away. My mom caught up to him and tried to use logic and reason. She asked him if his mommy was there. He gave a general wave in another direction. She thought that some stranger danger might scare him away, but he was fearless. Finally, my mom told him it wasn't his tricycle and he was just going to have to find something else to play with.

Don't mess with The Bear, her bear or Mama Bear

We brushed Ben the Bear off and said goodbye to the park and our innocence. Blessings and curses can look an awful lot alike when you're a toddler.

 

Happy Birthday, Ben

Last weekend, I got to see where Ben sleeps and I didn't even have to be a creepster stalker to make it happen. In fact, I received an actual invitation to join Ben and his family (and two dozenish other revelers, but whatever) as they celebrated Ben's second birthday. My mom didn't even tell me about the party until the morning I was scheduled to attend because she knew I wouldn't be able to contain my excitement for more than 38 seconds once I knew I was going.

A young lady never forgets her first boy/girl party. I put on a lovely purple dress, wore my hair down, with a bow, rather than my usual learning center pigtail look and boarded the train for a quick commute to Ben's neighborhood. When I arrived, Ben was waiting at the top of the stairs, squealing my name. Well, I had no choice. I squealed back.

Ben's mom set up a killer, jungle themed event. There were inflatable animals in the living room that became our party favors. There was a water table with fishing poles on the back deck. The snacks were amazing. Best of all, we could play with anything we wanted in the room that Ben and his sister share. Every toddler knows that other kids' toys are always the coolest.

I took my two foot tiger with me everywhere for the rest of the weekend
but it mysteriously disappeared Monday morning.
I'll have to talk to my mom about that.

In a quiet moment, my mom admitted to Ben's mom that our family doesn't know any other kids and that this was the first birthday party I had ever attended. I thought it was social suicide, for sure. Luckily, Ben's mom is awesome, confided that Ben could use a few more friends, too, and suggested that we all get together this summer.

I was allowed to stay an hour past my normal nap time, but still had to leave before most of the guests. I sang Happy Birthday all the way home on the train.

Princess culture has gone too far

I have no problem being feminine. For instance, check out my most adorbs lavender flower print jacket below. The pattern is perfect with striped pants. I don't care what you say.

That being said, I'll admit that I tend to avoid all things princess. I don't know why being prissy and helpless are the same as being girlie to so many of my contemporaries. As a female who wants to grow up knowing how to tie my own shoes and balance my checkbook (two important skills for any modern lady), the whole culture leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

I could never be bothered to sit down and watch Disney's Sleeping Beauty because a 1950's film about a heroine who does nothing but sleep while she grows perfect hair is laughable, at best. So, I'm willing to admit the problem could be ignorance on my end, but Sleeping Beauty just seems out of place at the park.



Over it.

 

Listen, I'm all about expressing your personal style. It's just that a mass marketed, glorified Halloween costume seems neither personal nor stylish. It isn't exactly functional, either.

Sleeping Beauty's poufy dress hardly fits through the climbing tunnel. All of that tulle only serves to trip her while she stumbles from the climbing structure to the swings. Frankly, she's a hazard to the kids who are at the playground to run, climb and burn off a little steam from our stressful weeks.

Come to the park to play. Come to the park to get dirty. Come to the park to judge others. Just don't come to the park expecting me to call you Aurora and step aside for the princess if I was in line for the slide before you.

Dad with the stalker assist

Bestill my heart! Sam was at the grocery store at the exact same time as me last night. I didn't see him right away, but my dad sent my mom a text instructing her to take me to the dairy department immediately.

There, Mom and I saw Sam and his mom carefully selecting the same Stonyfield organic yogurt I eat. My mom made the first move, introduced herself and told Sam's mom that we know him from his weekly Starbucks trips with his dad.

I found out that Sam is just two weeks younger than me and totally into the same things I'm into. While the moms talked about completely worthless mom stuff, Sam reached across his cart and held my hand.

I almost died. It was probably the most romantic day of my entire life.

It's all downhill from here.

Ew.

If I'm not allowed to scream in Starbucks because people are trying to enjoy their breakfasts and finish their novels, I think that the man at the table next to me should have to wear something under his sweatpants. I'm too young to see all of that stuff jingle jangling around. It's gross.

Not okay.

Keeping my options open

For November, it was pretty warm in Chicago this weekend. So I took the opportunity to get my parents out of the house and ventured off to a few of my favorite spots in the neighborhood. Let me tell you, lovely weather really brings out the talent.

First, I met Sam at Starbucks on Saturday. This handsome, bespectacled blond wasn't shy about toddling right up to my highchair to say hello and pat my hand. Usually, I'm pretty outgoing but I was so thrown off by his forward approach that all I could do was stare.

I made note of the time I saw him, hoping that he keeps a tight schedule and made sure to be back at Starbucks the same time Sunday. Sure enough, he and his dad walked in promptly at 9:30. He totally remembered me and came over to play with my stuffed bear. Again, there were too many stars in my eyes to react. I just hugged my bear and swooned until it was time to leave. Oh well. I'll try again next weekend.

Completely stunned.
Sam made me forget all three words I used to know.

I had a little more luck at the park. I promised myself I wouldn't be so shy and would just enjoy myself. Success!

Even though I'm only 13 months old, 18 month old Eli was following me around everywhere I went. He was big into climbing stairs, playing with leaves and shaking the fence like we were trying to escape the tyranny that is a public park in the middle class part of town. In the end, though, I lost my cool when I needed fresh pants. As soon as he saw my mom break out the diaper bag, he was out of there.

When the beating of your heart
Echoes the beating of the drums
There is a life about to start
When tomorrow comes!

The weekend was winding down when my parents and auntie took me out for one last trip to the park Sunday afternoon. There, I met a mysterious 12 month old who just learned to walk the day before. I know, I know, he sounds too immature for me but he was actually a lot of fun. He wasn't great at sliding but he knew how to climb and follow me, which is important. He didn't come with a stroller. He must live nearby. I didn't catch his name but his face has been added to my mental rolodex. I'll be on the lookout for him for sure.

Halloween part un

I'm not sure how kids in the suburbs do Halloween, but city kids don't go house to house. We go shop to shop. This weekend, the kids in my neighborhood met in the main square for photos and a dog costume parade. Then, the area shops handed out candy to anyone in costume. I don't eat candy or say "Trick or Treat," (totally by choice on both counts) but I do like to watch big kids. I was happy to attend.

The princess thing was completely played out this year. I saw three Meridas, two Cinderellas, a Belle and a Snow White. Yaaaaaaaaaaaawn. There were a lot of monkeys, a few dinosaurs and a surprising number of kids dressed as lawn gnomes.

Based on my respect for the character and the fact that the costume allowed me to wear pants, I chose to go as literary heroine, Olivia. Some dum dum thought I was Olive Oil.



We're practically triplets

I suppose none of it matters, though, because I live in Chicago. As any Midwestern kid knows, even the most thoughtful costume just looks like a kid in a snowsuit by the time the sun sets on October 31st.

My costume? Thanks for asking.
I'm a kid from the 1970's whose dad dressed her.

A busy weekend

I try to keep my weekends pretty open but this week, I had a lot on my plate.

Saturday, my dad took me to Daddy and Me day at the learning center. I was pretty disappointed to see that we were the only ones representing the infant room and that we had to participate in the toddler room activities. It was pretty cool to introduce him to my mentor, Miss Miho, though.

After we did some hand print art and made a door hanger for my room, I gave my dad a tour of my classroom. As a whole, the event was less formal than Mommy and Me day. We quietly exited as the snacks were being presented.

Sunday, I started my Wiggleworms class at the local music school. I wasn't sure what to expect from my classmates, so I dressed to impress in my Diane von Furstenberg LBO (little black onesie). 

I take fashion and drum circles very seriously.

I can probably tone my outfit down a bit next week, considering Levi wore a bib all 45 minutes of class. I have no idea what that was even about. He didn't stop for a snack break or anything. I don't mean to be harsh, but it looked pretty lame. As the only girl in the class, I'll probably have to impart a little style wisdom on the rest of the wiggleworms over the next few weeks.





PJs in the PM only, please

I've mentioned my love for the park before. It really is just a fantastic place to relax and meet and greet. Lately, I've been so excited about the park that I've been waking up early on weekends in the hopes that my mom will give me breakfast and take me directly there.

Thus far, my plan has worked. Of course, my mom doesn't just let me have my bottle and wheel me over to the park in the footie pajamas I wore the night before dribbled with whatever didn't make it to my mouth. You know why? Because we have a little something called class.

Yesterday, my mom and I decided to go to the bigger park at the center of our neighborhood, rather than the one closest to home. There's a little more shade, a sprinkler for hot days and better people watching in general.

I was pretty impressed by the mom-covery on the woman next to us with her two daughters but that was pretty much where the adoration ended. She, her mini-me five year and her two year old (who totally had hand, foot and mouth disease and should have been quarantined) were all still in their pajamas. It was clear they hadn't brushed their hair or teeth yet, too.

Cool look, kid. Are you headed to brunch at Bistro Campagne when you're finished swinging?

Look, we're all excited about the park. We all want to beat the rest of the neighborhood to the choicest swings. We all know that after 10am, it is going to get too hot to hang at the playground. But we're trying to have a society, here.

I'm not asking anyone to put on makeup or even shower, but I think something besides oversized flannel pants with cows jumping over the moon might be in order in public. Personally, I plan to save that look for 2030, when I'm a college freshman.

Penny Lane & Co.

Every summer, my neighborhood sponsors a super cool, family friendly concert series. It's a great place to see and be seen after a hectic day at the learning center. Last night, for example, I ran into Nia while waiting for Old California to play. This week's show just didn't have the elite vibe I usually get, though.

While the other parents had a plastic cup of white wine or five, my mom slammed a hot dog from the German restaurant across the street. I realized it was not going to be her most ladylike moment when she covered it in ketchup (a major faux pas, but I'll give her a pass, since she grew up in the South).  

Shortly before the stage dives began

As the band was setting up, there were a few kids on stage. I thought maybe they were roadies, but upon closer inspection, they were doing chalk drawings. It seemed a little disrespectful to the guy trying to tune his bass.

When the music started, the groupies really came out. They started out slow by stomping to the beat but by the end of the first song, there were at least 20 kids crowding the stage. One, who was inappropriately wearing a cape and a crown, even climbed on stage like he was Courtney Cox or something. Thankfully, his mom, splashing chardonnay, quickly removed him and the rest of us were able to enjoy the remainder of the show.

I'm still here

I've received a lot of mail asking if I've gone away or if I've given up on my blog. Never fear, I'm still here. Currently, I'm nearing the end of a nine day retreat at an undisclosed vacation destination. I've visited a few friends, gone to a local animal habitat ("zoo" sounds so primitive) and spent time relaxing in my private pool. I'm looking forward to being home and seeing my friends back at the learning center soon.

You can't really trust a swim diaper, so you might as well swim alone.

Maybe the park is a little too inclusive

On sunny days, my mom and dad take me to the park after they pick me up from the learning center. If you've never been to a park, take my word for it, they are awesome. Today, I had a carrot snack picnic, tried the slide and played on the swings. Everyone loves the swings but, if you'll allow me to brag for a moment, I'm probably better at swinging than anyone else in the whole neighborhood. 

There really is something at the park for everyone but I wish it could be a little more exclusive. For example, I'm not sure that the three fifty-somethings who were wearing lab coats and laying under the lamppost smoking really belonged so close to the playground. Not only is their nasty habit bad for my pink little lungs but I think we can all agree that this behavior is just plain creepy. I mean, the park isn't even near a lab. 

Totally mastering the swing. Totally sneezing from the smoke.
Totally photo bombed by that broad in the green.