Wicked Chicago

Since moving to Illinois we've joked about how corrupt the state government. In all fairness I haven't paid much attention, but I was sidekick to a mugging my first trip to Chicago and the state tax went up by some ridiculous amount (I want to say 50 percent...).

So I conned my family into visiting by tempting them with the perfectly named Broadway show Wicked. The twins followed that up with a plan for some indulgent spending in Chicago. Sorry boys!

Amber, Heather, Mom

Somehow I left my camera at home for the weekend, and as a family we must not be tourist minded because we constantly thought of cool pictures we should have taken afterwards. Amber and Heather did manage to get a passing shot posed in front of a Windy City bus stopped at a red light. I took a handful of mobile shots. Yep, that photography class is paying for itself.

Would it be small of me to blame my professor? He told me I had shaky hands. We refer to it as the Hall shakes and what kept Travis from surgeon stardom. Crushed dreams.

Regardless, it was wonderful to have a girls and Pa weekend. We all loved Wicked and it wouldn't surprise me to find my little nieces singing Popular this holiday season. Thanks for the visit!

X or Y

On Friday we find out if Bean is a sweet little Breezy doll or a hyper little Gripper. Based on the lack of movement today I pick girl. Until recently I was pretty sure it was going to be a boy. Now I've created a pro/con list for each gender based on said gender exemplifying the parents same characteristics. And Skip wonders what I do when he's gone.

The XX                                             The XY

Huge blue eyes                                Will inherit many hunting accessories

May out-cute Mom (and she            Will have to fight older brother for
would have to come up with new      hunting gear
ways to get out of trouble)    

Tendency to the dramatic                  Will constantly be playing in the dirt

Lots of fun outfits                              Decor from old blinds

Crazy flexibility, no muscles             Abs by age four but unable to touch toes

Austen, Dickens, Clark                     Hemingway, Vonnegut, Wildfowl

A tendency to create messes             A tendency to break things



Now imagine that they are flipped and the little girl turns out to be an outdoor loving hunting fool and the little boy is a shy bookworm. That's probably going to happen.

Make a prediction!

Parenting 101

A couple of nights ago Skipper and I fell into a discussion about how we will raise our child.

"What rules did you? When was your curfew?" Skip asked.

I launched into an explanation of no boys in my room, early curfew on weekdays and a slightly later curfew on weekends...

"Like you were home by?" Skip probed.

Midnight? Or maybe that was just my senior year. To tell the truth I can't really remember. I do remember being home a few minutes late from time to time and "owing" my mom time the following night(s).

"Midnight?! When you were a senior right, not before? No good comes after eleven," Skip exclaimed.

Well, that's probably true. What is also true is I didn't try to get into trouble. My mistakes were for the most part mistakes, not well planned out events. With a raised eyebrow I asked Skip about the rules in his house.   According to him he had a much earlier curfew, and he also remembered pushing limits and trying to break the rules.

So there we were, the innocent girl being reprimanded by the textbook badboy for her "easy, lenient" upbrining. At this point I'm sure I had a smirk on my face (you know being the rebellious one in the relationship it's hard not to mock the saint). And then he hits me with this:

"I'm going to be like Mr. Rogers in front of our kids. Just you watch."

I laughed hard. It turn my stomach.

The next morning as the saint studiously studied his television lines, I lazily prepared my cereal. I poured the milk with an extra flair to embodied the new image of rulebreaker. Suddenly Skip calls me over to look out the window. In the side-street behind our house four little neighborhood boys stood in a circle waiting for the school bus. Four little juvies between the ages of 12 and 8 smoking! These are the same boys who helped me carry boxes when we moved in.

Skip opened the window and called out, "You boys having fun out there?"

The boys jumped and ran back to the bus stop, our front yard. I laughed hard. Milk shot out my nose.

"See! I can be Mr. Rogers. I'm a great dad." Or Skip said something to that effect, milk was running down my robe, I can't remember the details.

What Mr. Skip Rogers failed to realize that in his attempt to discipline and maintain a friendly voice he actually sounded suspiciously like a dude with a white van asking kids if they want some candy. Combine that with the dark corner his voice was coming from and I'm pretty sure he gave the boys nightmares.

At least we've established our parenting roles early.