Tea Parties And Time.

"Mom," she said. "You know what's even better than doing your work?" Nora looked at me expectantly- and a tad impishly.

"...Having a little tea party with the breakable tea set."

She nodded like she had just unveiled THE plan. And, in a way, she had.

You bring the tea set, I'll bring the braids.

For weeks now she's been asking to use "the breakable tea set," the one she was gifted for her third birthday- and the one that, quite honestly, isn't all that breakable. Sure, it's ceramic and way nicer than the plastic cups n' saucers (the ones that, shortly after receipt of the new ones, were foisted off on Suzy as a benevolent Now I Shall Share With You gesture), but it's not like they're the Queen's china.

I guess I just never felt that the time was "right" to play with them: the Zunami was in a crazy flingin' mood, there were too many toys already scattered around the room, and I had a ton of stuff to catch up. (I started to feel badly for Nora as soon as I realized that those three factors would always, always be in play.) But Nora would keep asking- almost every day- "Maybe later when Zu's asleep? Maybe then we'll have a tea party with the breakable tea set?"

"Sure," I'd tell her. And then remove Susannah's leg from an item of furniture.

But this afternoon- long after her little sister fought the good naptime fight (and lost)- and long after Nora's Quiet Time books had been devoured...and long after she decided that a Big Girl Nap was not in the cards for her today...she approached me with that grin.

And I promptly shoved my laptop aside, turned my phone to silent, and prepared to be indulged at the most lavish tea party this side of the Chicago River.

Maybe it was the fact that we had just that morning come from her preschool orientation and I already found myself missing her, or maybe it was that excited smile, the one that made me feel like a jerk for not just letting her use the damn tea set any ol' frickin' time she wanted because IT'S A TEA SET...

But it was the best tea party I'd ever attended.

And when I asked her what was in it ("honey and strawberries, but the kind that Uncle Neil can eat") and how it was prepared ("with water from the bathroom sink"), she seemed grownup and proud and I wanted to stay right there forever.

She was so careful with her pours. And such a hostess with demure inquiries of "Sugar? Creamer" and offers to stir my cup. And the ultimate lady with her pinky up (even though it was the pinky not holding the cup- there's time). And an excellent hydrator with a whopping six refilled pots of "tea."

I went upstairs to put a small cookie on her miniature plate- and her expression would've made you think we were suddenly dining at The Drake.

It made me feel like an excellent Mom. And it made me feel like a terrible Mom.

But it also made me feel like a wise Mom, for I've come to realize something incredibly important: while there will always be crazy-pivotal things to check off our lists, time is so stupidly fleeting and I won't look back fondly on that deadline I got out the door regarding children's bedding options. Someday Nora's gonna be as busy as I always purport to be. So while she's here and young and thinks I hung the moon and stars and sky...I should always say yes to a tea party with my kid.

But I should plan to add my own sugar. She stirs in way too much.

Seeing Sporting Events In Tiny Little Spurts.

On Labor Day, we took the girls to a Cubs game (Susannah's first, Nora's second) and had a terrific time. Even though- due to the ol' law of If You Need To Be Somewhere, Your Kids Will Nap For Seven Hours- we only managed to see a few innings. 

Still terrific. 

Because there was a train ride with Ohmygoodness I CAN SEE OUT THIS WINDOW views of [a different part of] the city.

And, after the girls figured out that guys were hitting balls into the general direction of the seats (it was foul ball-tacular that day), they decided to cup their hands together in case a baseball gently floated down from the sky.

I realize that we'll have to work with them on all things athletic.

There were also stadium hot dogs. With neon green relish and mustard and ketchup and lots of napkins. I thought the smallish Cubbies fans were purty cute, too.

Best hour of The Sports I've ever had.

Labor Day Is For Napping.

Happy Labor Day, friends!

Hope you get to spend it doing exactly what you wanna do.

(But maybe in your own bed, yeah?)

August Date: Photo Scavenger Hunt (And Marshmallows).

Oh my word, BONUS BLOG, y'all. This post is brought to you by the letter P for Procrastination (last day of August, friends!), and by the number 11...meaning I've now resided in Chicago for that many years. So this month's date was superbly special, as it highlighted things I reallyreallyreally love about this city. Let's begin:

On Monday night of this past week, we had a mini date. (We didn't think the full date would happen this month and decided to hedge our bets by, you know, hanging out and documenting it.) After putting the girls to bed, Peej retreated to the backyard for a REALLY long time. I finally wandered out and saw a sweet setup of our fire pit, some chairs, and the fixings for s'mores. But no pit-full of fire. 'Cause one of us was having trouble getting the sucker to stay lit. After another one of us started an amazing fire (hint: IT WAS TOTALLY ME), we had a fabulous campfire date in the comfort of our own noisy and urban 'hood. 

However, P.J. had something else in store for that Wednesday night: after we got in the car, he handed me a photo scavenger hunt list. On it were all sorts of Chicago landmarks- you know, the kind we always send tourists and visiting pals to see, but rarely go play with on our own? 

And he said we were being timed. And had to win. (I'm still not entirely sure if he was joking or if I won. I hope I at least placed.)

The first stop was at the famous totem pole on Recreation Drive. It was very dark. We kinda felt like 

lurkers. And we may have startled the cyclist who ultimately offered to take our picture. (Nothing unusual about this scenario, folks! Just a married couple hanging out on a pitch black park trail! Move along!)

       

How do you beat that kinda photo opp? How about taking a pic at the oh-so recognizable Buckingham Fountain? A couple of notes: a) We never purported to be awesome at taking nighttime photos, and b) my look of alarm came when someone busted out the national anthem on a boombox. (I was unsure as to how I should've proceeded. Salute? Sing? Ignore? I went with the Hairy Eyeball. Very patriotic.)

Next up was saying hi to Artie, the lion(s) at the Art Institute's front steps. He's an old pal. But seriously. Don't touch him. Just...don't. 

Kinda feel like we failed at taking the proper tourist photograph at The Bean- I mean, it's nothing else if not a gargantuan selfie opp. But it's much nicer to do during the day. Or at dusk. Or, again, with better picture-takers. Also? Hella fingerprints up in that joint. (Peej definitely added his own, but for seriously.)

We headed to one of my all-time favorite spots to get a wicked expensive drink: The Signature Lounge on the 96th floor of the Hancock Tower. And being a Wednesday night and all, there was no line for the elevator and no line for actual window seating. That may have had something to do, however, with the fact that Chicago was experiencing a fog straight outta a Dickens novel. See those white panels next to our heads? That was the reflection of the sheets of fog. The only view we saw that night was a very brave spider outside the window (as well as a couple heavily making out- one of whom may or may not have been a Russian prostitute- and some loud frat boys cheering each other on regarding something sporting). 

My raspberry fizz was delightful, however, and P.J.'s Manhattan was (reportedly) tasty. The flourless chocolate cake also passed inspection (of my face). 

Our last item on the scavenger hunt list was the old Water Tower. (Not the mall which houses American Girl Place, mind you. Just across the street. The place that used to hold the water and now holds a theatre.) And all I can say is- the electric bills must be astronomical up in that joint. Bright as a thousand suns.

Kinda like my love for this guy who keeps dating me all about town.