Countdown is On

We are now just four days away from our trip to Aruba! I'm feeling way more optimistic about our travel day. I picked up a few more things this afternoon - frosted animal crackers, M&M mini bags, and writing pads. I think we'll just purchase drinks at the airport.

We found out that we will meet up with my family after the first flight so we'll have help a little earlier than I'd thought.

It's been a real struggle to concentrate at work this week...I'm just so ready to go! I have most of our clothes packed, reading materials and the carry ons about ready to go. I'll be spending the day Friday cleaning the house so we don't come home to a pig sty.

I've been a little preoccupied for other reasons, which I hope I can share in the next week or two :) I really hope the next two days fly by!

One Little Monkey...

Jumping on the bed. He fell off and bumped his head...

We'd been after the boys all day to stop jumping on the bed. We'd had friends over and they were completely wound up. DH was changing in our bedroom for his softball game while my youngest was apparently disregarding every warning we'd given him throughout the day, including the one DH had JUST uttered before going into the other room to change. A very loud thud and blood curdeling scream later...large 2 inch gash in my youngest's forehead.

You forget how much the head bleeds...must be God's way of shocking the hell out of you to act fast. We had my youngest in the car and were on the way to the ER within 15 minutes. The bleeding actually stopped fairly quickly with a little bit of pressure.

Dermabond is a wonder! They basically put superglue in the wound and squeeze the skin back together. From what we understand, in about five days the dermabond will peel off on its own and the wound will heal on its own from there. No traumatic stitches, though you would have thought that's what they were doing when they had to hold him down to put the dermabond on.

The nurses and ER doc at North KC Hospital were great. We were in and out in less than two hours, that has to be a record for us.

And what was one of the first thing's my darling toddler did when we got upstairs to take a bath? Started jumping on the large chair in our bedroom. And when I kneeled down and explained that he can NOT jump on the furniture ever again...big smile. Lord help us...

Retail Therapy is Great for Panic

So, I went on a little shopping spree last weekend in an attempt to find enough "surprises" to keep the boys entertained on our travel to and from Aruba. Here's a quick run down:

• Dinosaur story book and plush dinosaur for each (this will be their suprise first thing in the morning to get them up and going, the dinos will be their travel "buddies" for the trip)
• Two card games (in cute mini-lunchboxes) for my 4 1/2 year old
• New Spiderman sippy cups
• Mini-movie projectors with wild animal slides
• Monkey hand puppet
• Disney's Little Einsteins "action" figures
• Four Crayola Color Wonder activity books (one for each child per trip)
• New Thomas the Tank Engine movie
• New Little Einsteins movie

Good news - DH is bringing two laptops (one is a back up) to watch the movies so no need to fork over the cash for a new portable DVD player! Between all of the new activities (as well as a few of their stand-by favorites that we'll bring as well) and plenty of snacks I'm feeling a little more confident that it won't be melt down city throughout the day.

I also picked up a cute cotton sundress, straw hat, flip flops and glamour sun glasses - both comfy AND trendy! I'm definitely getting more excited!

So little time...

I'm sitting here trying to make it to 4 p.m. so I can have my second afternoon snack. Darling hubby (DH) is trying this new diet that says you have to wait at least two hours between snacks. Seeing that I need to lose about 10 lbs., I figured I'd try some of the techniques. It's much harder than it looks as my eyes fog over and my motivation takes a nose dive. Only 12 more minutes!

Now that I've bypassed the first major hurdle toward achieving my APR accreditation (national standard for public relations), I feel like I can start thinking beyond the next couple of days. Fifty-three pages later, it's like a huge weight off my shoulders, though I still have a two hour presentation and 150 question exam to prepare for!

That being said, I've allowed myself a few indulgences today including doing some online "window shopping" for a new sundress to take to Aruba. Yes, Aruba...with the kids. My parents turned 50 this year and wanted to take the entire family on a tropical vacation. They surprised us with the invitation in late 2005. I had one child that was almost three and another that was almost 18 months old. We were looking at a trip sometime in late 2006 or 2007. I thought for sure they would be less demanding and easier to travel with by then - snort!

The original plan was to go in the spring of this year. I researched resorts all over the world looking for the most family-friendly and once-in-a-lifetime vacation spots I could find. We seemed to keep coming back to Aruba no matter where else we looked and it was settled. Now we just needed to determine a date. Last summer I was trying to start a magazine career and thought I might be in the middle of launching a new publication the following spring. We also told my parents we wanted to start trying for baby number three some time this year but would hold off until we returned from the trip.

Ah, the perils of planning a vacaction by commitee, and 18 months to two years in advance. So many unknowns, and everyone has their own agendas.

When my magazine dream crumbled last summer, my parents tried to book a spring trip but none of the villas in Aruba were available. The travel agent said that we needed to book them at least a year in advance...this was summer of 2006. So, October it was. Booking a year in advance using points is allowing my parents to take all of us virtually for free, however, according to my dad we got the bottom of the barrel pick for our travel schedule. This has been a small source of anxiety for hubby and I...especially the last several months as we've realized our three-year-old will in fact NOT be any easier to travel with now than he was at 18 months.

Here's our schedule:
6:30 a.m. Flight #1
10:30 a.m. Flight #2
Four hour layover in Miami (!!!!) - but this is where we'll connect with the rest of the family.
6:00 p.m. Flight #3
Arrive in Aruba at 8:45 p.m. - a good 45 minutes past the boys' bedtime.

So needless to say, it is going to be a long, exhausting and very challenging day. I've done some initial research online to find articles about traveling with toddlers, especially energetic ones. Parents Magazine's site was incredibly helpful, as was BabyCenter.com.

We'll be taking lots of new activities - anything they will be happy doing while they are seated - a car seat for my three-year-old, snacks, and we will probably have to invest in a portable DVD player. I'm trying to think of a cool surprise to get the boys out of bed that morning since we'll have to be out of the house by 5 a.m. to get to the airport in time.

Sigh...I am SURE it will all be well worth it once we're sitting by the pool, or riding our inflatable toys around the luxurious lazy river, sipping our fru fru drinks. I just wish we could skip the whole nightmare travel day.

We got a nice glimpse of what it may be like when last weekend, as we were traveling back to KC from my parents' lake house, our car broke down. We had to spend two hours in an O'Reilly Autoparts store while "Dustin" looked our car over and my husband discussed our options. The packaged Hot Wheels cars entertained the boys for a good 20 minutes, but it was downhill from there. At one point, they were literally running laps around the entire store while I stood by the door with a completely defeated, blank stare on my face. I had already chased them down two or three times and begged, pleaded and bribed them to stay in one place, but that only resulted in a sword fight with these antenae-lookin extendable magnets (no IDEA what one would use THAT for!). So, finally, I just stood in one place and when anyone caught my eye I gave them a sheepish grin and said pitifully, "We've been here a while..."

Think that will play in Miami?

The Spectacle that is the Iowa State Fair

This weekend we took the boys to the Iowa State Fair. Memorialized by Rogers and Hammerstein's 1945 musical "State Fair," it is probably the largest and most well-known in the country. There's something about being so close to such fundamental elements of life, fresh produce, farm animals, wild flowers and indigenous plants, not to mention hand made crafts, that's fulfilling. It's something that I grew up with a unique appreciation for and something that I really want my boys to have fond memories of as they grow older.

Growing up in Des Moines, home of the Iowa State Fair, this spectacle and cultural phenomenon that is uniquely Iowa was an integral part of my childhood. The Iowa State Fair is where I saw my first concert in 7th grade (Tiffany and New Kids on the Block), and where I always avoided the creep show that was the Midway (carnival rides and games). My grandparents worked at the Fair in some capacity for more than 50 years, and my mom tells the same story every year about running around the Fairgrounds in bare feet for the entire two weeks while her parents worked. When my grandparents worked at the Horse Pavilion I was between the ages of 9 and 13. We could get in to any horse show we wanted for free and had I been allowed, I literally would have sat there all day long. I couldn't ever get enough of those beautiful animals prancing, galloping, cantering and gracefully moving around the ring. English saddle was my favorite, with the regally dressed riders bouncing up and down in a predictable rhythm, backs straight and giving the appearance of absolute grace and control.

This year we got to take the boys for a ride on the Giant Slide. The smell of the burlap sack and the exhileration as you fly over the rises in the giant yellow slide were just as vivid as when I was a child.

Of course, no visit to the State Fair would be complete without the annual viewing of the world's largest pig. The massive animals are rarely seen awake, or standing. I'm not quite sure how they get them in and out of their pens. The boys are always apprehensive and rarely enjoy more than a distant peek at the impressive beasts. With the world's largest pig in such close proximity, it's only appropriate to gorge yourself on every fried food under the sun. The joke goes, if it can be fried, you can find it at the fair. We actually found "macaroni and cheese bites" - think balls of macaroni and cheese, breaded then fried. Heaven!

The other joke, is that you can find just about anything served "on a stick." Darling hubby usually indulges in the deep fried Snickers on a stick, but since he's been working out lately, he passed this year. We even saw "beer on a stick" for the first time this year!

Making new traditions and new memories with the boys adds a whole new dimension to the fair now that I'm a mother. This year it was visiting the farm implements displays, especially the John Deere area. They have both developed an incredible fondness for the big green tractors and seeing them in real life was almost more than they could comprehend. Andrew loved the smaller, yard machines, while Thomas found a digger that was just his size.

We always make "spin art" - the boys put drops of paint on a white piece of cardboard, then push a button that spins the piece of cardboard and sends the paint flying towards the edges. The results never disappoint. The boys get their faces painted at the Cultural Building, and play on the wooden train playgrounds.

And new this year, we went to a new building that houses several baby animal displays. Meant as an educational center for different livestock animals and the breeding process, we heard stories of people who actually witnessed live births of cows, pigs and goats. I'm personally not all that disappointed to have missed that, though they had video running over and over on larger than life screens all over the building.

As we walked out of the gate, we all agreed that we'd definitely gotten enough Iowa State Fair to last us until next year!

Home Sweet Home

I'm never more grateful for my husband, children and my beautiful city than when I travel. Being in Chicago the last three days certainly allowed me to revisit that appreciation - and distance truly does make the heart grow fonder.

I stayed at the Club Quarters at 111 Adams St. in downtown Chicago. When I made the reservation via the main reservation phone number (located in New York), they failed to mention that I would be staying at the Adams Street location. Everything on their Web site advertised a Wacker location just off of Michigan Ave. I only found out when I arrived at said Wacker location, that my reservation was, in fact, at the Adams Street location. It was now 10 p.m., my flight had been delayed roughly a half an hour, and I was more than ready to hit the sack. I jumped in a my second cab of the evening, and made my way to the other hotel.

The front desk clerk was on the phone when I arrived, though I only waited a few minutes before she hung up and turned her attention toward me. She checked me in quickly, then handed me my two room keys in a small non-descript manila envelope. She bid me a nice evening and indicated the elevators to my right.

Someone was getting off just as I turned, so I entered the already open elevator. I pressed the button for my floor and nothing happened. I waited several seconds, pressing the button several more times and finally the doors slid shut. Then, nothing. They immediately opened again and I went through the same motions. Again, nothing. The young lady at the front desk literally feet from the open elevator, seemed blissfully unaware of my struggle. I tried several times to catch her eye to no avail. I tried the next elevator, same problem. Finally I stepped off toward the front desk just a few feet away and a man was coming in to the crazy, "fun house" elevator. I told him that it was broken and wasn't responding.

Finally, the incredibly observant front-desk clerk noticed me and said, "Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot to tell you that you have to put your room key in the slot before you press the button." At this point, I literally had only an insignificant shred of patience left in my brain so I quickly turned to get back on the elevator. A young woman was also getting on and had heard my conversation with the clerk. She disgustedly stated that they'd done the same thing to her, though she had spent an hour riding the elevator up and down until someone finally clued her in. Guess it could have been worse!

The room was small, and had a damp, sticky feeling to it. Given the thin layer of "travel filth" already covering my body, this was a most unwelcome realization. My eyes were bleary with exhaustion, so I kicked off my flip flops, noticing immediately that the carpet was just as damp and sticky feeling as the air. Too tired to care, I pulled out all of my comforts of home and went to set the bathroom up for the next day. I reached into my cosmetics bag and realized with horror that I'd forgotten to pack my toothbrush. I luckily had my toothpaste and did the best I could with the disgusting Burger King chicken sandwich and Sprite film that coated my entire mouth.

I pulled on my satin jammies, and climbed in to bed with my book. The radio next to the bed had this great feature where you could set it to play ocean sounds, babbling brook sounds (which included frog noises, I immediately eliminated that option) or chimes. I set it to the ocean sounds, set the alarm and settled in for the evening.

I slept surprisingly well, and awoke fairly well-rested. After finally reading the hotel literature, I realized that the AC had been shut off after the last person left (a conservation measure) and would be each day when housekeeping came to tidy the room. Good to know. I quickly turned it back on and immediately felt the cool, dry air permeate the small room. What a difference that made!

I hadn't packed my usual shampoo and conditioner since most hotels have sufficient samples already available. This particular hotel had one bottle of "conditioning shampoo," a bottle of mouthwash and two round bars of "French milled soap." I would have been better off had I been a 65-year-old man. The mouthwash came in handy and definitely did the trick a bit better than my finger had the night before.

Once showered and dressed, I made it to the hotel restaurant with a comfortable amount of time to eat breakfast and check in with the office. I had my colleague send me a document I needed to edit and prepare for email distribution the next day, then enjoyed my Eggs Benedict. After a quick stop at the Starbucks next door, I was in a cab and on my way to my workshop.

There is nothing better than commiserating with other people that work in the same field as you. This workshop was part comedy show, part therapy session and part motivational speech. I came out of the first day with a million great ideas that I am sure will be squelched the minute I present them to my superiors.

My second evening in "the windy city" (which comes from the hot air spewed by the city's early politicians, not the weather as most people think!) included a wonderful, giggly, fold-your-legs-under-you, curl-up-on-the-couch-and-veg-in-front-of-the-TV visit with my college roommate and best friend. I snuggled with her eight-month-old, had a fascinating conversation with her two-year-old about trains, ate left over home made pizza and laughed til my sides hurt. We also made plans for a "girls only" visit to our college Homecoming this year. Par-TAY! Of course, being with her adorable family also made me ache for my guys even more!

Back at my hotel room, I realized the AC didn't do much for the sticky layer of tracked in filth in the carpet, and I collapsed into the bed.

Finally, my last day. I slept in and decided to have breakfast and coffee at the workshop. I would be leaving the workshop and heading straight for the airport so I had to bring every living thing with me in the cab. I scrambled out with my laptop and purse, fearing I was going to be a few minutes late, and with my brain mainly on the hot coffee that waited upstairs. I settled into my seat from the day before, cold cereal, o.j., and hot coffee in hand. I noticed another workshop attendee walk in with her roller bag suitcase and my heart stopped. Cold fear gripped my insides as I realized I'd forgotten to grab my bag from the trunk of the cab.

I made an immediate desperate phone call to the cab company, and was immediately routed to a emotion-less, careless voicemail system where I left a message providing as much detail as I could recall in my current mental state. I quickly began to take a mental inventory of what was actually in my suitcase and tried to reason with myself that it was all replaceable. There truly wasn't anything of value in the bag, other than my favorite pair of flip flops and linen capris. My flat iron and cell phone charger were significant losses, but altogether replaceable. It was time to replace most of my makeup and toiletries, too. Satisfied that I could certainly live without the contents of my suitcase, if it came to that, I relaxed and was able to refocus on the workshop.

I made several more calls to the cab company, realizing each time that I was at the mercy of a complete stranger who was driving my poor bag all over Chicago and may or may not have a conscience. It did console me somewhat that there really was nothing of monetary value and if he did decide to keep it, the joke would be squarely on him!

The closer it got to the time I would have to head to the airport, the more that sickening feeling of personal violation set in. Was the cab driver rifling through my dirty underwear, nearly full box of regular tampons, all of the magazines and background materials I'd brought to work on stuff for work, my makeup and cosmetic bag? Was he pocketing my favorite flip flops for a wife, girlfriend or teenage daughter? I suddenly wanted nothing more than to be home with my family and out of this heartless situation.

On the cab ride to the airport, I asked the driver what their protocol was for returning items left in the cab and I got an immediate, "Oh @#&!." Not comforting. He then proceeded to tell me that if the driver was an honest person, he would return it, but that I shouldn't count on it. He told me a colorful story about a couple that left $300,000 in jewelry in a cab and when the driver returned it, they paid him $50,000. Great.

I walked in to the airport feeling like I'd left my left arm back in that cab in Chicago. Thankfully, the rest of my trip was uneventful. Once home, I got to spend $104 replacing all of my make up, deodorant, make up bag, face cleanser, and toothpaste. Joy.

The good news...any anxiety I had completely melted away when I walked into the boys' room and my three-year-old's face lit up when he saw me, "Mommy!" I got exactly three hugs and four or five kisses. My 4 1/2 year old woke up briefly when he felt me brush his hair off of his forehead and tenderly kiss his cheek. "Mommy!" he said, groggy from being in the early stages of slumber. In seconds, he was quietly snoring once again.

I climbed in to bed with darling hubby and finally felt like I was home.

Birthday Boy

When I visualize the ideal birthday photo, it's this one...the birthday child at the kitchen table, surrounded by family, with maybe a sibling standing close by to help blow out the candles at a moment's notice. The lights are dimmed and all eyes are on the child leaning precariously over their home-baked birthday cake. The child may be the only person in the photo, but you know that the family is looking on from just outside the frame.

Sometimes Mom is represented by an oddly detached torso and arm reaching in to present the cake, aflame, wax dripping onto the butter cream frosting.

When my youngest celebrated his third birthday earlier this month, I was posessed about getting this photo of him. We didn't do a big birthday party this year, and I was feeling a little guilty about that, so this was really my only chance to get him blowing out his candles.

These birthday moments come and go so very quickly. In my opinion, the only way to truly hold on to them is to memorialize them in a photograph. Sure, they stay alive in your memory, but it's never as vivid as the photograph that you can go back and relive time and again.

Just about every child has this kind of memory about their birthday. Even if, like my husband, you didn't have a party with your friends from school every year, you AT LEAST had some kind of celebration with cake or some other sweet treat and your immediate family. Gathering around the one piece of furniture that has the power and the capacity to hold the entire family together at one time is the ultimate symbol of celebrating the place a certain person holds in your family. The family dinner table is something that almost universally represents a family gathered as one unit.

I was fortunate to have grown up with this positive view of the family dinner table. As an adult, I know now that ideal hasn't been every child's reality. As a parent, to respect and take advantage of our ability to gather around our table at least once a day is one of my most closely held intrinsic values.

Happy Birthday, my sweet boy!