A 60 degree day in January warrants a trip to the Art Institute.  But who needs Chagall when you have the green line?  The lady drinking beer out of a Gatorade bottle was much more entertaining.

Promise, the last birthday post!

Much like the Chinese Zodiac, you decided "five" was going to be the year of the bubble gum, and "six" was going to be the year of the Barbie.   I thought that perhaps we can discreetly and quickly move through the Barbie phase so that we can be on to bigger and better things...like, hmmm, anything.  We celebrated your actual birthday at Jimmy's Pizza, a favorite in Forest Park.  The kind wait staff mounted this dollar store beauty onto your cake.  Your Aunt Judy, Mimi, Lolo, Lola, Dad, Viv and I carefully watched to make sure her locks didn't ignite.  I'm hoping you got your fill darling.  Because this monstrosity of a cake is all this mama can do.

Turning 5

When you were little, you'd ask, "When can I wear nailpolish?" and I'd answer, "When you're five".  You'd ask "When can I chew gum?" and I'd answer, "When you're five".  Five always seemed like such a long way off.  Such a safe number.  And here we are.  Today we put on polish (very pale, bought at Whole Foods and just on the toes).  We also let you chew gum (sugar free).  Just because you're five doesn't mean I can throw you to the wolves just yet.  We'll talk about that when you're ten.

A Fifth Birthday Party

A rigorous game of musical chairs

Ice Cream in January?  Can't think of a better time to bring together fourteen kids in tight quarters to consume large quantities of sugar.  Whee!

This Weekend's Arrivals

The snow finally arrived...along with a visit from Aunt Judy!  Happy weekend!

Ella,
You are five today.  One whole hand.  This year is going to be big for you sister.  You will graduate from preschool and head off to full-day kindergarten five days a week.  To me this feels like an end of an era.  I looked at you the other day as I struggled to get you into the grocery store cart.  Your long limbs trying to find their way.  I told you that I was sad that you were getting bigger and you looked at me like I was crazy...like every kid does when their parents say something like this.  I know it won't make sense to you until you have kids.  It made me wonder if Mimi and Lola still want your Dad and I to curl up on their laps sometime...maybe...probably.  As you get older, I've really enjoyed talking to you, fielding your questions.  We wink as we share an inside joke.  You are a good hearted kid, a natural care-giver and a whiz at puzzles and Memory.  When help is needed, you are there to volunteer.  You get excited about the rain, the birds, your friends, life.  "Oh boy" is your most frequent facial expression.  You make the world fun.  You've been working hard on resolving issues with your sister without our interventions.  You also started taking a hip-hop dance class.  And although you are surrounded by older kids, you have the best rhythm and musicality by far (allow me to brag, it's your birthday!).  It's been so wonderful being your parent.  As I carried you into bed for the last time as a four year old, I caught a glimpse of us in the full-length mirror at the end of the hall.  Your body covers over two-thirds of mine.   I wonder about when you'll stop wanting me to carry you and this hurts my heart.  But then I remember, it was just a few nights ago that a tantrum was being thrown because lasagna was being served for dinner.  And I realize that this era isn't quite over yet.
I love you, girl.  Let's agree to disagree over the lasagna, ok?
Always,
Mom

Celebrating at Messterpiece Studio

            

The Two Handsome Dads

I had it on good authority, that a hibachi style restaurant is a great place to take kids.  Fire and entertainment table-side?  With so much eye-candy, we were assured a peaceful meal.  Jerry and I ho-ho'ed as the chef started dramatically dumping oil and lit the match.  Boy, the kids were going to love this.  What I didn't anticipate was the very healthy fear of fire present in both our kids.  Thank you Concordia's Fire Safety Week!  Ella refused to leave her Lola's lap as Viv screamed and cried for what seemed like eternity.  Couples sharing a romantic dinner and mai tais stared.  The poor hibachi guy banged desperately on the grill with his spatula trying to distract a howling Vivian from what she felt was uncertain death.  Seriously, it was like we had arrived at the gates of hell.  We stopped, dropped and rolled our way out not long after.  Thankfully a trip to Yogli Mogli for some fro-yo seemed to put out all the flames.
   

If You Can't Take the Heat...

Last year, after Ella switched into the Monday/Wednesday/Friday classroom at Concordia University, I was excited to learn that she would be rubbing elbows with a celebrity's kid.  This guy has his own cooking show on Food Network and to this foodie-wannabe, you can't get more "A list" than that.  We'd bump into them at the school's picnic or holiday party and I'd play it cool; never letting on that I had fantasies that involved him and Giada sharing recipes at Ina's Hamptons home.  Secretly, I was hoping to hit it off with his wife so that maybe we'd get a dinner invitation.  I truly think we were making some headway.  That was until last week.  "Ella and a few of her friends were kicking another child...in the face", her teacher told me with a grim look.  What?  I know that Ella had been spending more time with some of the rowdier boys at school.  It's weird, this divide started happening in the classroom.  Girls standing demurely in their ballet flats acting like kittens and boys doing God knows what.   Ella has a lot more energy to harness than a mewing kitten so she finds herself being drawn to games that involve jumping from the tops of slides and other playground equipment.  I pick her up from school ruddy cheeked, her entire body is covered in wood chips.  But today, she had crossed a line.  No doubt, to quell any potential animosity between parents, teachers never disclose the name of the victim (or aggressor).  But to my horror, as we were walking to the car, I heard a little boy's voice rise above the parking lot buzz, identifying that "Ella B" was the perpetrator.  It was the Celebrity's son!  Celebrity and Celebrity Wife looked at me and laughed.  An expression of "what are you going to do" across their faces.  I pulled out of the parking lot deflated, my hopes were dashed.  No dinner, no recipe sharing, no gossiping about Emeril.  Ella, exasperated, tried explaining that they were playing Star Wars and she did not want him on her space ship.  And for that she kicked his face.  Clearly, I wasn't going to understand her logic.  Ella wrote him a lengthy apology which ended with a declaration of love (all her idea).  Now we sit and wait, all the while Tivo-ing his shows, hoping for a sign that reconciliation is a possibility.  Sigh.
           

Viv,
You finished the first half of your second year on Sunday.  Despite being the youngest in the family, you certainly make your presence known.  In fact, sometimes I think this whole solar system revolves around you and your smile...and maybe, on occasion, your crazy, foot stomping, two year old whims.  I watched two other mothers laugh out loud at your might on display at the local playground.  Like your sister, you think nothing of taking on children twice your size...and they typically back down.   You don't initiate the trouble, but you certainly end it.  You love cheese.  Your father's eyes twinkle as you share a slice.  You eat burgers fully loaded, goat cheese and salad.  In fact, when we go out to eat, you'd much rather share our plates than the partake in the kiddie offerings.  You cuddle up every evening with your dragon and blanket but more often than not, I find a car or airplane has made it into your bed.  As you start speaking in sentences, I've loved to hear about what you are thinking.  I love to see how your personality is revealing itself.  Looking forward to the second half of your second year.
Love,
Mom

Photo courtesy of my buddy, Erin.  

This past weekend we met up with our friends, Erin and Nate at a local cooking school.  We made savory butternut squash and thyme muffins and you loved them.       

Garfield Park Conservatory

The girls asked Santa for "hair down to the floor" for Christmas.  Here they are sporting it in the last picture.

Josh and Jen

Yesterday, Josh and I had one of our longest conversations in recent memory.  Knowing that this is a rarity, we covered as much conversational ground as we could.  We touched on work and work-life balance before meandering into the murky waters of parenthood.  We got surprisingly deep given the fact that I was wheeling a busted cart through the clearance aisles of a local Marshalls as Vivian quietly entertained herself by going through my wallet.  Keeping one eye on my credit cards, two hands on the cart and a shoulder-hold on my phone, Josh and I had a chance to talk about what is needed to start a family.  We covered the obvious like, money, savings and medical coverage.  Also in the "no duh" category: Time, commitment, love and patience.  But, more so than you could ever fathom producing and then you find yourself squeezing out even more.

After thinking further, and wanting to give Josh and Jen a more comprehensive idea of what to expect here are more thoughts that came to mind today:
Sometimes parenthood means relying on those awesome memories you had with your significant other years ago because what may be in your recent reserves may involve zoning out on your couch as you take turns with the remote.  Because although you'd like to think otherwise, there will be a stark difference between who you are as a couple pre and post kids.  There are days when you won't recognize yourself as an individual, as a couple.  The disgruntled, lumpy, crazy eyed person who looks off their meds is the same person grinning ear to ear in the wedding picture.  It's like an eerie before and after picture.  Speaking of disgruntled and lumpy, the entire category of self-care (which includes such silly notions as "me-time", "mental health days" and the like) is wedged somewhere between cleaning the gutters and aerating the lawn, in terms of priorities.  Hours of lazily trying on outfits and contemplating what you'll wear to this weekends party are over.  Shopping for yourself post-parent is like an Olympic sport.   Without strength, speed and emotional grit you fail.  Today was the first and last time I took the girls clothes shopping for me.  Confused, they entered into the dressing room.  Viv automatically began taking off her clothes as Ella dissolved into laughter at the sight of me in my underwear (by the way, we're at that fun stage).  Sweating and shamed, I grabbed a few shirts and threw them at the cashier and left before my esteem suffered any more (just kidding...kind of).  

Gosh, I just made parenthood sound awful.  But here's the thing.  It's not.  And most parents will say the same thing.  It's a sh*$-ton of work but it's ok.  It's like some freaky math equation that doesn't make sense but all equals out.  I promise.  So best of luck Josh and Jen as you think about considering this next chapter in your lives.  After reading this, I won't be offended if you'd prefer to keep our conversations light in the future...gun control, immigration reform, etc.

NYE

Seventeen of us spent NYE at a local Oak Park eatery.  Motown, individual bottles of champagne, costumes and a menu of chicken and waffles proved to be a hit all around.  Love that Dylan photobombed us (see top picture).

Holiday Wrap Up

 

 

When you have kids, the holidays don't pause, life doesn't pause...even though at times it should.  Here are some images of the kiddos with their cousins.  I absolutely love seeing them together. 

Uncle Don

It was the 21st of December when my mom called to let me know that my Uncle Don wasn't doing well.  He had been battling cancer for the last several years.  My heart sank as I imagined my Aunt Jenny preparing for the holidays; my cousin planning a visit.  He died on Christmas Eve and my mind has been traveling to South Carolina every few minutes since.  My Uncle Don brought excitement with him every time he came into town.  I remember their family van outside of my grandmother's house when I was a kid.  Our family get-togethers were filled with stories and adventures from out East.  New York, New Jersey were exotic and edgy locales for this Midwest kid.  And to top it all off, he was Italian and had a pool.  He had a big laugh and knew how to cook.  He knew how to live life.  These fond memories offer little solace, I'm sure, but I'll write them anyway.  My thoughts and heart are with my Aunt and cousins.