No Good, Very Bad Day. (Until Snacktime.)

Yesterday was a tough day.

It even started out tough. Despite my best (read: productive/attention/motherly) efforts, the girls were just feeling crazy. Like- wild, bickery, rambunctious, independent crazy.

All throughout the morning, Nora responded to my requests of helping me straighten this part of her room/putting stuff back on that shelf/stop pulling even more things out of drawers by neeeeeding to play with that/taking things from the shelf/removing things from drawers. And Zu? Well, my darling youngest punctuated her independent proclamations with full-out yowly sprawls on precarious perches. ("I do it mysellllllf!")

But it was okay. Because I knew that- after a wonderfully long naptime- the afternoon would bring SO MUCH FUN. After all, it was the free day at the Art Institute, and that meant more impressionists and miniatures than we could shake a downtown parking pass at.

And yeah, sure, Suzy's nap was really short and NORA DID NOT NEED ONE AT ALL, but I just knew that we'd have such a Special Afternoon at one of our favorite places that I didn't worry.

Even when Nora fell asleep in the car ride downtown. And even when street parking turned out to be 12 bucks for fewer than 2 hours. We were going to have fun.

Our good friend Neil met us there, and the gals were thrilled to be at the Art Institute with "Uncle Neil." Even when, confusingly enough, the ticket guy informed us they no longer honored First and Second Wednesday Free Days for Chicago residents. The girls were still just pleased as punch to be having a Special Afternoon downtown (and now with Uncle Neil)!

But Nora did sadly ask why no one was letting us go see the miniature room. (Because, I wanted to tell her, as deep as my love for my children goes, there was no way in heck I was gonna spend 30 bucks for something we usually do for free twice a year.)

We went back outside, and I promised the girls that we'd do something awesome with our Special Afternoon; a walk through the prairie garden? A visit to The Bean? A snack by the promenade? All of these options sounded terrific and Special.

Until the first raindrop fell.

Neil and I, surprised, assured the girls (and each other) that it would pass. Quickly. No worries. Then it started raining hard. Really hard. Sideways hard. And then it was a torrential in your face downpour that no eave, no canopy of branches, no museum walkway could hope to shield you from.

And the girls began to cry. Really hard.

So we ran back to our car- across a few city blocks, through a few lake-sized puddles, and pausing for IMPOSSIBLY LONG TRAFFIC LIGHTS- while I quickly earned my badge as the wettest, most pathetic-looking pregnant gal ever to push a stroller (with attached boogie board) down Michigan Ave. We said goodbye to Uncle Neil (we are SO sorry, Neil), and I drove a car full of dripping, sad-faced children back uptown.

A full hour and a half before our meter was to run out.

To recap: I paid 12 bucks to wake up my cranky child, deny both kids a promised excursion, and drench them in the face, only to turn around half an hour later and drive back home. Special Afternoon!

"That wasn't so fun, Mom."

"I know, Nora."

But then Susannah requested that we play the Winnie the Pooh soundtrack; when it came on, she squealed oh-so happily. And when I looked over my shoulder at a stoplight, I saw this.

So we went home. Bathed, dried off, put on some cozies...And made s'mores.

It just seemed like the right thing to do. And you know what?

It totally was.

Getting Outta Dodge And Packing Your Biggest Soccer Shorts.

So, here's where my mind is this week:

The teensy, tinesy, wonderfully beachtacular part of Cape Cod where I spent magical summers as a kiddo.

Also as a highschooler- one with a penchant for swim team-style bathing suits, despite the fact that even my veryverybest swimming efforts make me look like a howler monkey with a leg cramp.

I also spent these summers wearing bucket hats. And soccer shorts that even a fully grown man would deem too baggy.

Why did those shorts need to be quite so large? And why did I feel the need to be oh-so secured, swimming-wise?

Regardless of style (or a decided lack thereof), I'm thrilled to bitsy bits to be going there next week with my sisters (and bro) and parents and nephews and husband and daughters and family friends.

I may even bring a racerback swimsuit for old time's sake. (Do they make that style in maternity?)

Better pack some Umbros, too.

KinderCare, Or Why We Don't Eat The Dry Ingredients.

I so dig early childhood education, and am rather honored to be writing a sponsored post on behalf of KinderCare.

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There is absolutely nothing better than seeing a little kid truly understand something for the very first time. It makes you realize that yeah, this smallish (and rather messy) person is well on their way to becoming a thinking, thriving, productive member of society and will one day become an independent one. Kinda heady stuff.

As a lot of you know, I was a nanny for close to a decade. I also taught kindergarten through 3rd grade song n' dance n' theatre. And I loved my jobs. I loved the wild abandon with which little kids would create, learn, question, and trust. I like to think that those experiences carried over to my motherhood- especially in the sense that I love to create "learning moments" for my girls that have nothing to do with workbooks, flash cards, or curriculum.

Like Monday morning, when the bitty ladies and I decided to bake "cupcake muffins." (Their phrase, not mine.) Nora, ever-impatient to get to the Good Part (i.e., the eating of said cupcake muffins), was asking why she couldn't just eat the dry ingredients while they were being added to the mixer. (Her toddler sister nodded in hungry agreement.)

All master chefs need purple fairy aprons.

So I let 'em. We all dipped [clean] pinkies into whole wheat flour, sugar, salt, and the teensiest bit of vanilla extract. They were thrilled by this complete disregard for "the rules." And totally dismayed that the vanilla didn't even taste like vanilla. But after the briefest of lessons in chemistry and a very hippie dippie "Isn't it nice when all the ingredients work and play together" speech on my part, Nora decided that the finished product was nicer than any of the single ingredients...and that being patient can be rather tasty.

And just like Nora questioned the contents of her mixing bowl, it's oh-so important to question our kiddo's educational paths. Which is why it's completely awesome that KinderCare (and Knowledge Beginnings Centers) are hosting open houses all over the country on August 13th. Families are welcomed (and encouraged!) to tour, ask, plan, and decide if these learning centers are right for your child. You can find your neighborhood center, schedule a personal tour, and explore their theme of Learning Moments- all those fabulous teachable times that happen away from the chalkboard. Even better, any family who tours a KinderCare or Knowledge Beginnings Center between now and October 18th will be entered to win a free year of tuition to one of these centers- and five families will win! (Check out the spiffy terms and conditions here.)

And go see if KinderCare's blend of ingredients is the right recipe for your li'l cupcake.

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KinderCare provides high quality early childhood education and childcare for kids who are infant aged through kindergarten.

One of the best ways to learn more about KinderCare is to attend their nationwide Open House on August 13, 2013. Visit KinderCare.com to find the closest KinderCare Learning Center or Knowledge Beginnings Center to you.
And bonus! KinderCare’s Back-to-School Sweepstakes will award five families a scholarship worth one calendar year’s tuition for one child. To be eligible, families must visit their local KinderCare Center and take a tour. Terms and conditions apply. Visit KinderCare.com to see the Official Rules.

This is a sponsored post written by me on behalf of KinderCare.

8 Things About Summertime Eating In Chicago.

Chicago is known for its food. And for the utter wild abandon that its warmer months can bring. So to that end, I give you 8 Things About Summertime Eating In Chicago:

8. There is no food- anywhere- better than something that can be bought from a street corner cart. Especially if you have to ask for clarification on an item more than once. (It exponentially adds to its ultimate deliciousness.)

7. Regardless of where you live, a nearby parish or street will be having a block party that tops any you've ever seen. And they'll have food grilling that will smell better than that thing you were planning on defrosting for supper.

Try some, kiddo.

6. Or heard. 'Cause that party will rage until well after your kids are tucked in for the night (with noise machines crankin').

5. Even the dinkiest "farm stand" (read: the back of a pickup truck, parked at the intersection of two busy streets) will display tastier produce than most things being offered in a major grocery chain. Because yeah, even though parts of Chicago are downright industrial, we're still located smack-dab in Midwestern Land. And that pickup truck produce? You'll probably find fruit that's like fifteen for a dollar.

4. There are entire festivals dedicated to ribs. Competing festivals. Same goes for burgers. And pretty much any type of cuisine you can think of. (At any of these festivals, by the by, you'll have the ability to purchase gigantic ears of corn on the cob and deep-fried Twinkies. This I promise you.)

3. Being that winter is roughly nineteen months long in Chicago, taking advantage of a restaurant or bar's outdoor seating makes every single thing taste better. Especially if it's sidewalk seating. (Nothing makes a meal taste better than eating it alfresco on a sidewalk in the face of people who are not yet eating an alfresco meal on a sidewalk.)

2. The night that you boldly declare NO DESSERT...the ice cream pushcart, the one attached to the bike, the traditional ice cream truck, and the nondescript soft serve mobile will hover by your front stoop for hours. With bells and music and horns and throngs of over-sugared children singing their praises. Right by your stoop. For hours.

1. Addendum: Any ice cream truck still double-parked on a major city street after 10pm does not have a primary business of selling ice cream. Ahem.

Seeya at the tamale stand, friends.