Wedding Bells

We survived.

Sure, there were mishaps outside of our control, but my children were well behaved.
(To the point that strangers kept approaching to tell me how wonderful they were acting.)
((Which, never EVER happens. EVER.))

The ceremony was beautiful.

*Stolen off my brother's Facebook page

The bride was flawless.

*Stolen off Jill's Facebook page.
Since my entire family is in it, I figure I have rights to it

And the girls had sooooo much fun.

And all of my doubt melted away as I watched my brothers face as he watched his bride walk down the isle.

Cookies

The last two posts I've put up were kind of throw aways. Two weekends in Chicago, over 1200 miles in the air. It's exhausting.

But it's been making me think about family a lot.
All of the things we are missing. All of the memories that aren't being made for us and our girls.

During the first weekend, my mom was at the center of the trip. She had grand plans for Gracie. She wanted to make up for lost time with some of those memories. She wanted to bake.

Armed with three kinds of chocolate chips, they worked together, side by side, in a sweltering kitchen without pause.

I'll crack and you stir.
You pour and I'll stir.
Careful, only the eggs are supposed to go in the cookies, not the shells.
Let's taste. Does it need more chips?

There is something so back to basics about baking. I can't imagine a childhood without it; without those memories of stirring, pouring and kneading. Teaching your kids how to cook is like teaching them about soul. How to put love into something inanimate, that has the ability to animate.

And I'm glad that Grace was able to have that afternoon in the kitchen with my mom baking cookies.

Eggshells, salt pockets and all.

******************************

This post is inspired by Sarah McCoy's The Baker's Daughter. In a small Texan town, Reba discovers Elsie's German Bakery and falls in love with more than the pastries. Shes drawn to Elsie's life in Germany during the last year of WWII. Join From Left to Write on August 29  as we discuss The Baker's Daughter. As a member, I received a copy of the book for review purposes.

Weekend in Instagram

Weekend in Instagram

Team Spirit

This past weekend Gracie wore her Bears jersey for the first time in ages. She was so proud to match her daddy and was overjoyed with our rendering of the Chicago Bears fight song, despite their loss in the end.

That morning during our weekly trip to the grocery store, the Sunday football jerseys were abound. I don’t think she quite understood that they stood for allegiance to different cities and teams, but she did know they weren’t like her navy and orange jersey and spent a good chunk of her time giving other shoppers the hairy eye.

Every time we saw a different jersey she would slap her belly and declare, Mama. I wear ‘Cago Beers. Yes love, yes you are. At home, the trend continued. Every half an hour heard a same declaration of, Mama, I wear ‘Cago Beers. When Gracie went to bed that night, I confiscated the jersey with all her other dirty clothes to run through the washer. It was air dried and put away for another day.

It seems another day is already upon us. Yesterday morning, out of the blue, she demanded to wear ‘Cago Beers to school. I am told by many sources that she once again spend the day slapping her belly and telling everyone who would listen (and some that could care less) that she is wearing her ‘Cago Beers. I warned the teachers at pick up that I had a feeling they would be seeing a lot of the jersey.

Despite this warning, I myself was unprepared for this morning. My child no longer wants variety in her wardrobe. She no longer wants dresses and feminine ruffles. She only want the Bears jersey, which by the way, was still unwashed this morning, covered with a days worth of food smears and snot, and therefore un-wearable.

*Enter the meltdown*

I know, I should have just put in on her, but it had ketchup smeared on the front. I know I should have just put it on her, but she didn’t want to put on a long sleeve shirt underneath to battle the December weather. I know, I should have just put it on her, but I’d she already had a super soft light blue fleece jumper dress laid out for today’s wardrobe damnit and if I have to wrestle her like an alligator to force clothes on the body she is wearing what I want her to!

So tonight, and every night in the foreseeable future, the jersey is going in the washing machine. Someone needs to explain to this child that I don’t do mid-week laundry though. And if you’re looking for a Christmas present for Gracie, more jerseys might come in handy, 3T please.

Ho-panes, Hot-cop-ers and Other Assorted Transportation

We are going back to Chicago this weekend. First flight out on Saturday, first flight back on Monday morning. Easy breezy. Each side of the family gets 24 hours and then we are back to Maryland.

The trips are stressful. They take planning and scheduling and diplomacy to a degree where we are usually tired before we even step foot into the airport. As much as Matt and I love our families, trips back are just one more reminder that Chicago isn’t home anymore and that we are 600 miles away from the comforts of our infrastructure.

I may get caught up in the details of the trip, but Gracie, her focus and excitement is on something else completely.

Ho-panes.

Despite her proclivity towards jewels, Gracie is developing some tomboy-ish tendencies too.

The dump truck and fire engine is a thing of wonder. Yes, the two have little in common, but still, every dump truck gets a squeal of delight despite the smells oozing from it; and she seems to think every fire truck was created just for her enjoyment and is mourned with tears and exclamations of 'MY FIRE TRUCK!' when they hurry past.

Even better than these two though? Ho-panes and Hot-cop-ers.

(That would read airplanes and helicopters to those who are not 100% versed in Gracie speak.)

We live close enough to BWI Airport that planes are a regular occurrence. Early mornings, with the mass take-offs are particularly delightful to Gracie. I grew up a mild distance from Midway Airport, so the noise of low flying jets rarely attracts my attention. Gracie on the other hand, must spend a good portion of her day with her ho-pane radar up.

And this 48 hour trip to see family, sure she runs through the list of who she will see during those two days:

Mama, where Unkey Jer at? He’s at work. In Chicago.
Mama, we see Unkey Jer when we take ho-pane to Cago? Yes, love, we will see him.

Mama, where Grandpa at? He’s watching TV. In Chicago.
Mama, we see Grandpa when we take ho-pane to Cago? Yes, love, we will see him.

Mama, where PaPa at? He’s at his cabin in Wisconsin.
Mama, we see PaPa when we take ho-pane to Cago? Yes, love, we will see him.

Mama, where Michael at? (The 19 yr old neighbor boy) He’s making sandwiches. (He works at a Panera)
Mama, we no see Michael when we take ho-pane to Cago. Yes, love, Michael has to stay here and make more sandwiches.

So just like her parents, Gracie’s true thrill will come with the end caps of this trip and her real life encounter with her very own ho-pane.

And you can bet that I won’t be discouraging her from laying claim to the aircraft if that is what gets us through 2.5 hours in each direction without tears or temper-tantrums. She will be fine, me on the other hand, I cannot guarantee there will be no tears of exhaustion on my part.

Now & Forever

I am so upset by this.

Daley fine with changing Sears to Willis Tower

I get the economics behind it. I get that times are tough and things change and nothing lasts forever. Come on though. This is the Sears Tower.

Until the early 90’s my Uncle Barry was an engineer at the tower. I remember him sneaking us up to the very tippy top of the tower via work elevators. Above the sky decks. Above the commoners. Above the clouds. Sure, there we no actual windows up in the very tippy top. It smelled like heat and steam and oil and sweat, but we knew where we were. We were up where even birds didn’t dare go. I’ve always held onto that memory.

From the hilltops of my home town, you could make out the city lights and the blinking of the tower on a clear night, full of dreams and promise. When we fly back into Midway, I always try to sit on the right side of the plane in hopes that the tower will be there to greet us on decent. When we leave I sit on the left to once again say goodbye.

There is so much in a name. I know this isn’t uncommon. I probably felt this way when Comisky Park was changed to U.S. Cellular Field too, despite my allegiance to the Cubbies and Wrigley Field at that point. And you know what, I still call Comisky just that. Comisky. That is it’s name. Just as you will never hear Sears Tower be called Willis by anyone who grew up with the city and the name.

Son Of A....

Remember my trip to Chicago?

My reason for dragging Gracie half way across the country that ended in feverish, hacking failure?

All I have to say is: Son Of A $!#%*!

Look at what Matt just forwarded me. The parade is no more.

I guess I really can't blame them. Getting to Western Ave. that day is like showing up for the Obama Inauguration. We needed to be on the road by 8am for a 12pm start. They don't even broach the subject of all the drunks either.

Still - that sound? It is of my heart breaking.

Landfill

I lost my phone.

A week ago. I'm just now getting around to admitting to myself that it is gone forever.

Well, Grace lost my phone to be fair. Yes, I did give it to her. No, I did not pay attention to her movements with it after its gift. It could be anywhere really.

Well, not anywhere. I know it is somewhere at my parents house. Or in the garbage /Chicago area landfill. But if it is in my parents house, it might as well be in a landfill. They have a slight... clutter... problem, so my bright idea of turning the phone off before giving it to Grace so she can't call China has backfired on me.

I've always wondered how people could loose their phones. It was something that I associated with be dumb and/or drunk.

Hmmm. I definitely wasn't drunk, but I guess giving my phone to Grace does fall into the realm of dumb.

Anyway, not that many people call my cell phone, but this is my notice to all: I'm not ignoring your call. I have never and will never receive it at this point. At least until Matt and I get our act together and figure out what phone company we want our service to be with next and order a new phone.

On the up side, my new phone will definitely have a camera, so the next time I see the Granny-mobile with the army of saint statues across the dashboard I will be able to capture photographic evidence of the beast and share with all you.

Ádh na nÉireannach (Luck of the Irish)

When I went back to work today, one of Grace’s daycare teachers commented, “Huh, I thought only little kids got ear infections!”

Yeah, so did I lady.

Let me start from the beginning.

I had made plans to fly back to Chicago with Grace this past weekend to attend the South Side Saint Patrick’s Day Parade. It always makes my mom’s eyes twinkle when she talks about my picture, the quintessential daddy-daughter of me on top of my dad’s shoulders at the parade, being on the front page of a Southtown years ago. It was family tradition growing up and one I wanted to share with Grace.

Last Wednesday though, the phone calls started. I was away from my desk and told daycare to try my cell if they couldn’t find me. When I came back into a reception area, I had 7 messages. One every 15 minutes. At 2:15pm her fever was 100.5. By 3:45 she was up to 102.3. I felt horrible listening to the panicked phone calls from the daycare teachers.

Thursday morning I took Gracie to see Dr. H. Double ear infection. She’ll be better in 24-48 hours, just in time to fly back to Chicago.

Friday, Grace went to school. I stayed home. I was run down and spiking my own low fever. If I stay home today, I can just sleep it off and be all better Saturday morning I kept telling myself. Oh, and did I sleep. 19 of the 24 hours my eyes were shut.

I still felt bad Saturday morning, but got on the plane anyway. Promises had been made. Schedules rearranged. Leave taken.

When we landed in Chicago I had a fever of 99.9, but went house hunting with my brother. By the time we were done, my fever was 102.1. I was so tired I couldn’t think straight much less make plans for the next day.

So there it was. No parade. No green beer. No bagpipes. No throngs of South Side Irish (a few generations removed from the boat) singing and celebrating in one big green obnoxious mess.

*Sigh* Why did I come again?

Sunday was more of the same. I battled fever and fatigue while Gracie refused to nap.

As soon as I got home Monday afternoon, I went straight to the urgent care center to get checked out. You know it’s bad when the doctor gasps when she looks in your ears.

Diagnosis? The worst double ear infection she’s seen in ages with a case of strep throat to top it off. Oh- and don’t be kissing on your baby or planning to go to work for the next 48 hours she warned. Your highly contagious.

Ah – so it would be a bad thing if I had just spent the weekend around someone who is immune depressed, huh?

In my head, I kept thinking 'Ádh na nÉireannach'. Luck of the Irish my arse.

You’d better believe that I choked down a Guinness on St Patrick’s Day though. I didn't enjoy it, but this illness isn't going to take EVERYTHING from me.

The Cubs Game

There is something amazing about Chicago sports. I’m sure other cities are like this, and I know that I am biased, but an outsider just doesn’t realize the passion of our fans. 100 years of disappointment folks. 100 Years!!

So despite the Cubbie loss on October 1, and eventual sweep, it was a good game and an amazing time.

In the true spirit of Chicago’s ‘we travel well’ motto, pre-game we meet folks in the exact same boat as us. Some had actually just gotten in – straight from O’Hare – from Boston. After sharing why we moved stories and spill $3.50 of my $7.00 beer on their coats, it was time to head into Wrigley.

Once inside the ballpark, we spilt for pee breaks and beer purchases.

On the way back to find Matt, I got sidetracked. Through my goggles of a slipped contact and 2.5 beers, I spotted a super cute guy a few feet ahead of me. Then he called my name. Who knew my hubbie was so toned and tanned from all the running! I guess I just had to slow down and literally see him though different eyes to really appreciate it!

The game went well until the grand slam in the 5th inning. Then things got ugly.

Right behind us we had hecklers, the funny kind, who also gave me sips of his Mai Tai, so they were cool.

Up above him though, we had a cynical, pissed off Heckler. Not so cool.

And up above him seemed to be the only Dodgers fan in the whole stadium, a 20-something chick that just could not keep her yap shut. Really not cool.

Well… the cynical Heckler got into it with the Dodgers fan. She got removed by ushers, as she was the opponent, so she must be in the wrong. The Heckler did say he felt bad that she got tossed, but that he wouldn’t have minded being able to shock her to get her to shut up.

I’m assuming she heard this on her way out, but cause a few innings later she was back. With full beers that I’m assuming were purchased with retaliation in mind, as she threw them all over the Heckler.

There was a lot of splash. Two full beers and all.

¼ of our section wound up leaving due to soggy pants. Eh, the Cubbies were way down anywho at this point.

During our trek back to the car, we stopped at Portillo’s and consoled our aching hearts with the most delicious hot dogs on the face of the planet.

Which brings to the most telling thing about our 48 hours in Chicago.

All I ate during that time was: Slim Jims, pizza, a hot dog, a burger, french fries, chocolate and beer. I might have had a Diet Coke too, but can’t recall.

In the end, it was the best trip back we’ve had in awhile.

Is That an Elephant on Your Back?

We are off to Chicago this afternoon for a 48 hour whirlwind adventure.

Being true to my nature, I am more tense about it than excited right now. It feels like an elephant is dancing a jig on my lower back. Though this time for slightly different reasons than the last trip.

My anxieties:
1) Missed naps.
2) Loss of baby infrastructure.
3) Containment of baby in the un-baby-proof house.
4) “Strange” people trying to put Grace to bed.
5) A cold and raining game.
6) Not getting to sleep until late, with an early morning baby wake-up.
7) Just trying to cram way too much into the time there.

The list could just keep going too. Even ignoring the obvious things I can’t change, like the weather, I feel like I can’t change anything on the list. We are not going to go buy $200 worth of baby crap for 1 day. We are not going to get back to my parent’s before midnight. We are not going to be able to cut essential activities out of the trip.

And so it is. I'll just have to suck it up. Our adventure begins at 1 pm this afternoon.

Damn Cubs better not disappoint. Or I’d better get drunk enough not to care.

Hey, Chicago, What Do You Say?

Matt won the lotto yesterday.

Well, a lotto that gave you the chance to spend money. In our case, it turned out to be a lotto that tempted us into spending an entire paycheck in the course of 2 days.

The Cubs made it to the playoffs. Matt, as always with Chicago sports related events, was on the ball and entered into the drawings for the chance to buy playoff tickets. The three possibilities were New York (Mets), Philly and Chicago.

Well, the two that were within driving distance failed, but his name was picked for Chicago. He was notified at 9 am yesterday that he could buy tickets at 12 pm. Didn’t give us much time to think about it. Of course we were going to get tickets. What an amazing opportunity! We'd be silly NOT to do it!

And they are AMAZING tickets. Outfield, right next to the ivy, in Ronnie WooWoo territory.

So after shuffling through the list of options: Matt goes with friend; Matt goes and sells other ticket to cover the cost of the trip; or we just flat out ebay the two tickets (as of yesterday they were going for $600 a pair with a full day left!)

Then we came up with a final option. We BOTH go.

Huh. That really hadn’t occurred to me.

So now, we are busy making phone calls looking for a sitter (thank you Grandma!), explaining to family and friends (that now feel slighted that they can’t go) our decision, discussing how I am going to finagle the trip give when I have zero leave (and the lie I will need to tell at work to go with it) and making exorbitantly expensive flight reservations (hence the spending a paycheck in 2 days).

So, one week from right now we will be in Chicago. For a total of 48 hours. All I have to say is that they better win.

They're singing ...
Go, Cubs, go
Go, Cubs, go
Hey, Chicago, what do you say?
The Cubs are gonna win today!

Go, Cubs, go
Go, Cubs, go
Hey, Chicago, what do you say?
The Cubs are gonna win today!

Da Bears

The football season has started with a win.

A redemption of sorts, with an Indy butt kicking. 29-13 Bears.

Grace has been initiated into her first full season of Bears football too. The game started long after she went to sleep, but she still wore the team colors during the day.

Note the skirt. This was my attempt to not hear, "What a cute little boy!" all day long.

The Trip

Matt and I both repeatedly say, "We are from Chicago, but Maryland is our home." We mean it. Our family is often incredulous when we say it, like it is some kind of blasphemy. It is the truth though.

THE TRIP REPORT

The flight out:
It was actually fine. We arrived at the airport 1 hour 45 minutes early for the flight. We were past security exactly 15 minutes after arrival.

Hmm… now what? McDonald's of course. A Sausage McMuffin for me and a Fruit & Yogurt Parfait (sans strawberries) for Grace. On the flight she never really cried, and fell asleep 1 hour into it and woke just before landing. My ride was actually waiting for me at the airport. All was well in my world.

The triathlon:
The precursor to the tri was a trip to Chicago Pizza and Oven Grinder. Not traditional Chicago fare by any means, but still our favorite.

Matt's mom, whom we haven't heard from since May, attended the event. (The lack of communication was due to her announcement that she would not be attending Grace's Baptism because she sprained her wrist 4 months earlier and it still hurt, therefore she could not endure the air travel.)

The highlight of the lunch was Matt's mom church voice singing and pantomiming the lyrics to the Chicago Bears fight song in the middle of the crowed restaurant, after her announcement that she would like Matt to take her to a game someday. Matt is a stoic individual who was able to maintain a straight face, but I did see at least one case of wine-being-shot-out-the-nose-because-of-stifled-laughter.

Matt finished the triathlon with a time of 3 hours 11 minutes and Jeanine did 3 hours 44 minutes. Matt was upset with his time, Jeanine was happy. I on the other hand, walked about 6 miles with a baby who refused to nap and a woman with a bad knee and glass in her heal. Matt says he is unhappy with how the event was run and will not participate again. I am glad.


Wisconsin:
We drove 8 hours- 4 up and 4 back- listening to Chipmunks CD's. Matt was playing the songs off You Tube tonight. We can't get them out of our heads & Grace baby dances to the most annoying one now.

To all the folks who say global warming is a government conspiracy, I might begin to believe you now. It was 40 degrees every morning up there and never got up past 82. Sure, it's north of Green Bay, but still, it's August!

We drank a lot and never really slept.

Matt is a very light sleeper, so he automatically went to the couch every night. While that means he didn't wake up with every squawk from Grace, even with Ambien he woke several times a night. I am a heavy sleeper and I don't think I ever slept more than 3 hours at a time. I often could only get Grace to sleep by draping her on my chest, with her feet kicking me in crotch and her head against my windpipe. It was lovely.

Despite those complaints, it was great to watch Gracie play with her cousins, Jack & Abby. It is always in those quite childhood moments that I am sad they don't get to spend more time together.


Lemont:
My parent's house is always the same. There is no plan. It drives me nuts.

Friday my mom watched Grace so we could go see The Dark Knight. I was thrilled.

On the way home I called to ask if she needed anything from the store for dinner that night before relatives arrived. She said no.

Five minutes after arriving at the house she announced that her plan was to go up the grocery store to buy bread AFTER company arrived so it would be fresh. I freaked and sent my brother to go
buy the buns and more beer.

Seeing my cousins was great though. My cousin Meg has kids
that are 1 & 2 years old. My cousins Gina & Kat are 17 & 15 years
old. It is always so surreal to see the changes in people when you are apart for extended periods of time.


Flight home:
I realized the night before flying home that I had no ID. Gracie's passport had been sent back with Matt in the car and my driver's license was (and still is) MIA. I had a mini meltdown and called the airline. They said it was OK, that I would just have to go through extra screening, so I should arrive early.

We got to the airport at 6:45 for a 9:25 am flight. (Making my brother 1/2 hour late for work.) Despite the extra screening, we were through security in the same 15 minutes as coming out.

Great.

2 1/2 hours with a kid at the airport. At least Midway is entertaining. We ate, we shopped, we listed to the guy with the thick Chicago accent (a la Blues Brothers) make announcements.

"The Cath-o-lick mass will we held in the Mezz-a-teen la-vel a-tree-um at 9 a.m. The mass la-asts one half of an hour. Thank You."

Then we got an the plane, where Gracie immediately fell asleep and woke to the sound of her daddy's voice greeting us at the baggage claim.

Ahh. We are home.

The Countdown

I am at the point where I am so tired that it is hard to think.

I was at this point on Tuesday. It is now Saturday. (I just had to stop for a few minutes to figure out what day it was.) I AM READY TO GO HOME.

Instead of writing in complete sentences I am going to just throw out numbers.

Here is the countdown:

10 - Number of bottles of wine consumed over the trip.
9- Number of mosquito bites on my legs. So itchy.
8 - Number of hours we listed to a freaking Chipmunks CD in the car. Damn songs are still in my head
7 - Number of times I became so irritated with conversations / circumstance that I left the room.
6 - Number of White Castles I consumed.
5 - Number of times I've checked my work email in the last 24 hours.
4 - Number of serious discussion I had with Matt about changing flights to come home early.
3 - Number of nights Grace slept on my chest like I'm a giant air mattress.
2 - Number of days I lost my flip flops, only to have them found under my luggage. (See #1 & 3)
1 - Number of nights out of 8 that I slept though the night.

More to come.

The Journey Begins

The journey begins.

It is starting with a brain that won't turn off to go to sleep, a back that is playing fun with spasms and my realization that the 1/2 glass of wine we have isn't enough to shut them both down.

I just want to get on the plane without incident. Then I just want to get off the plane without incident. Finally, I just want to get through our hotel stay Saturday night without incident.

Then let the incidents roll because I know if we can get over those three hurdles, everything else will be fine.

My ride to the airport informed me the other day that he thought I should get there at 6 am for our 8 am flight. I said I would prefer to leave the house at 6 am. That was two days ago.

Apparently my wishes fell on deaf ears, for tonight I was informed that he made a 7 am tee time at a local golf course. Which means he needs to drop me off BY 6 am.

Yeah well, I need you to entertain a 10 month old baby in a freaking airport terminal for 1.5 hours then buddy.

That's what I wanted to say anyway. Of course I didn't though.

He's doing us a multitude of favors this week. They are all owed to us though. Is it bad Karma to state that someone "owes" favors? I dunno, but he does.

So I am tense. I am setting up mini goals. First security. Pre-flight. Flight. Post-flight. Parents. Dinner. Hotel.

After hotel I am golden. I will keep you posted.

The Best Laid Plans

We were on our game last night.

By the time I got home with Grace, Matt had the kitchen straightened and most of his clothes for the week packed. We quickly ate our microwaved dinner of left over Chinese - part of my brilliant plan to order too much so I didn’t have to cook - went even more smoothly than I could have imagined.

I pulled out the list of baby supplies I need to pack and efficiently gathered them from around the house, managing to neatly pack everything into one easy-to-carry laundry basket to haul into and out of our many destinations.

By 8 pm we were completely packed, loaded into the car and sitting on the couch with a glass of wine.

This morning however was a different story.

Matt woke at 3 am to be driving east by 3:30. Ironically, the sound of the shower didn’t wake me, but the smell of the Dial soap did. Go figure, couldn’t hear him, but could smell the fresh, crisp scent of his soap.

Grace also slept through the shower, but woke to the faint click of the front door closing. At 3:35 am she was awake and crying.

I brought her into bed with me in the hopes that she would sleep a little longer. After using my stomach as a pillow for 20 minutes she laid back and snuggled against me.

UNTIL MY FREAKING ALARM CLOCK WENT OFF!!

I don’t like my alarm. It makes me angry every morning, but I keep it because it is so obnoxiously loud that I actually get up.

Grace doesn’t like it either apparently.

Before I could even get my hand close to the beast, she was screaming. I mean SCREAMING.

No matter what I did I couldn’t calm her down. After about 15 minutes I decided that she would just have to scream on her own, so I put her in her crib with every toy I could find. 30 minutes later she was still screaming.

Finally a warm bottle and lots of hugs did the trick. I’m sure the 45 minute nap she got on the ride to daycare didn’t hurt either.

Do I get a nap today?

Chicago Trip – Excitements

I’m back with Part II of the blog. Things that I am excited about.

This is, in fact, much easier to write today given that Gracie FINALLY slept through the night for the first time in a week.

Although I do have to admit, starting around 12:30 am I did start waking up every 45 minutes or so to make sure she was still asleep. 1:15 am, ahh, no crying. 2 am, ahh, no crying. 2:45 am, ahh, no crying. All the way up until my alarm went off. Not thrilled that I kept waking up, but hey, I instantly fell back to sleep and never had to actually get up.

So things that I am looking forward to with this trip:

1. The triathlon. On some level, I’ve actually begun to enjoy going to these events. It appeals to my/our plan-a-holic natures. Originally, when my Mom and Jerry said they wanted to come, I didn’t think much of it. OK, sure, come on down! Now, I am realizing that on top of getting to spend extra time with them, it will be a tremendous amount of help. Plus I now have people to drink breakfast booze with!

2. Dinner in the city. Alone. We love Chicago. Jeanine has volunteered to take Grace back to her house after the triathlon, so that gives us Sunday night all to ourselves. I’m not sure what we are going to do, but you’d better believe it will end with an Ambien.

3. Boat rides. Matt’s dad’s place in on a lake, so I imagine there will be at lease one ride on his pontoon boat. I am fairly certain that Gracie will LOVE it.

4. Cheese (and maybe jerky.) I am one that usually can’t come up with too many things that I like about Wisconsin as a state, but they do make some killer cheese. I know it’s cliché. It is one of those stereotypes are there for a reason though. Cheese curds here I come.

5. Fire trucks. Jerry is working his 24 on Thursday when we are heading back down to my parents. Assuming the timing works out, we will stop by the fire house and show Gracie the trucks.

6. Family. I think there will be a low key soirée on Friday at my Mom’s with family that I haven’t seen in awhile. In fact, I think there will be at least one person there that has never seen Grace.

So there we are. It wasn’t so hard. I just need to not get overwhelmed with the planning and packing. Once Matt leaves Friday morning, it will all be downhill.

See you soon!

Chicago Trip - Anxieties

Matt & I were both born and raised in the Chicago suburbs. I grew up in the southwest yuppie burbs and Matt has claim to the far north Wisconsin border burbs. This coming weekend we are trekking back with Grace for a week long family adventure.

The week will begin with Matt and his sister Jeanine doing the international distance Chicago Triathlon (1.5K swim, 40K bike, 10K run.)

We will then go up to Matt’s Dad’s weekend house in Wisconsin, just north of Green Bay, for 3 days.

After that we go back down to my parent’s house for 3 days.

Seems simple, right?

Yeah well…. Here are my anxieties about the coming week:

1. In order to bring his bike back for the Triathlon, Matt is driving back. Grace and I are flying. It will be my 1st experience of single parent air travel.

2. Grace has been sick / teething, as you all know from the previous posts. I am terrified of the thought of a screaming child in an upscale hotel. I am in knots over the thought that she will keep entire households awake. I am so tired that I feel sick, and can’t imagine dealing with this away from home.

3. Long drives. It will take approximately 5 hours to get up to our Wisconsin destination. I think the longest we have ever driven with Gracie is an hour. Should I sit in the back seat with her? Should we stop to feed and change diapers or try to do it while moving?

4. Keeping Grace on her schedule. Between flights, drives, time zone changes and events, how the hell am I going to make sure she gets her normal naps??

5. Pets. My parent’s house is like Noah’s Arc. OK, that’s an exaggeration, but still- 1 large dog (Husky- very hairy) and 2 cats (one is gigantic/very hairy & the other pees all over.)
* Grace pokes and grabs at Ricky like he is a piñata. Nikki, the Husky, isn’t going to like that and I don't trust her not to nip.
* She seems to find every stray hair on the floor and puts them directly into her mouth like it is another source of finger food. There is 100X more hair at my parent’s house than mine.
* Matt’s family has all sorts of pet dander allergies. Cats are specifically troublesome. She was fine in December, but I am nervous.

Tomorrow, when I’ve had more sleep (Please! Please! Please!) I will be more positive and outline the things I am excited about.