Chicago Moms Blog

I Believe in Santa & Make-A-Wish, Not Macy's

 You know it's a bad sign when there's no wait for the Walnut Room during the holiday season. Years ago it was a child's special treat to go to Marshall Field's, wait for hours to sit down in the beautifully historic restaurant and dine by the glow of the enormous holiday tree. Even as an adult I continued the tradition and it felt as special and elegant as all the years prior. That is, until Macy's invaded my beloved Marshall Field's wonderland. 

Disclaimer: I gave Macy's a shot. Even attended their grand opening runway show. But no dice. After Macy's brought their branding, it felt like a vanilla box to me. Void of all luxury and service. It just felt cheap. 

Despite my dislike for Macy's, I admired their partnership with the Make-A-Wish Foundation, an organization that enables children to do things otherwise impossible. After my kids wrote their letters to Santa I thought it would be a special to mail their letters and make a small contribution to a phenomenal organization. The kids agreed. Hey, we could even pop by and see Santa if the lines aren't too long! Maybe hand the letter to the Big Man himself. I should have known it was too good to be true.

The path to Santa was relatively uneventful. I didn't expect trumpets to sound mind you, but I thought there would be a smattering of goodwill, or dare I say, cheer on this shopper's paradise known as Sunday afternoon. Nothing. Not a single person talked with us. No smiles. No warm welcomes. Nothing. Strike 1. 

Apologies for Homemade Holiday Gifts

After pouring more mental and physical energy, not to mention more money, than I intended into homemade teacher gifts last year, I felt our presents did not make the grade. After talking with friends and family and seeking advice my from blog readers, it was clear that teachers love gift cards--gift cards for a quick lunch at Subway, an indulgent treat or necessary pick-me-up at Starbucks, or personal or classroom supplies from Target or a book store. Homemade treats and tzochkes = nice. Gift cards = good.

Sure the handcrafted Pi magnet my son created for a special math teacher was heartfelt and even practical, but it likely fell flat compared to a free grande peppermint latte.

And getting my kids to complete the projects they were supposedly eager to complete was like herding cats. Also I didn't always have the right colors on hand for my demanding artists, so I made a couple of costly runs to the craft store.

"Never again!" I swore.

Interfaith Thanksgiving Service: A New Holiday Tradition

I'd like to start off by saying that I was drawn to attend an interfaith Thanksgiving service because of the unparalleled sense of fellowship I'd receive from gathering with others to give thanks for life's many blessing, but I'd be lying if I did. The only reason I attended the service was that my son was singing in the choir due to the fact that my synagogue hosted this year's gathering. That said, it was a beautiful, touching service.

The service began with what sounds like the beginning of an off-color joke: a rabbi, a priest and an ethical humanist walk into a room... but it was more than that. It started off with a procession of holy books. The aforementioned Christian, Jew, as well as a Buddhist and others walked down an aisle separating the crowded rows of chairs while proudly holding their religion's holy book which was then put to display on a table in front of the bimah. This was followed by brief welcomes and prayers, lovely songs by the choir and a short speech from Jennifer Nelson-Seals, the director of Interfaith House.

Interfaith House is a 64-bed recuperative care center in Chicago that provides a place for continued healing for ill and injured homeless people. Jennifer's talk was not so much about the facility or her job as it was about hospitality. She reminded us that hospitality is more than etiquette. Hospitality is more about opening our hearts and not merely our homes. She encouraged us to reach out beyond friends and family to those we don't yet know, even if their traditions vary from ours. She dared us to care about those who might be so different from us as to make us a bit uncomfortable.

Bait and Switch, What's A Mom to Do?

     I try my absolute best to learn everything I can about what goes into my children's bodies and the air we breathe. We eat organic as much as possible (with special emphasis on the top ten), we avoid ingredients with hormone-disrupting agents in our lotions and shampoos (thank you Campaign for Safe Cosmetics  ), we use non-toxic cleaning agents to clean our home, and non-toxic biodegradable soap to launder our clothes.   To accomplish all of this takes a lot of work.  I do a lot of research and I read every label thoroughly. 

    Imagine my surprise when my dentist told me that Toms of Main's toothpaste for children contains sodium lauryl sulfate.  Five years ago when Eva first began using toothpaste, I took one look at the artificial coloring and flavoring in the commercially popular brands and went to Whole Foods for a better alternative.  I found Tom's of Maine "natural" "silly strawberry" toothpaste for children.  Based on my knowledge, the ingredient list contained non-controversial and safe ingredients, no sodium lauryl sulfate.  I bought it and she liked it.  A year or two later, Eva was ready for fluoride toothpaste and Toms had a "silly strawberry" version to fit the bill.  I read that label too, just to make sure the ingredients in that fluoride product met with my approval; there was no sodium lauryl sulfate.   Over the years, I picked up the Tom's of Maine "silly strawberry" for children and put it in my cart with nary a glance at the ingredients.  Why would I read the label again?  Well, I contend that is exactly what Tom's of Main was hoping for when they changed their formula.  I feel like I was fooled.

Baby Steps

My son has recently started walking and has quickly shown us where our baby proofing  has faltered.  One of those places is in the construction of our house, not due to our lack of outlet covers, low shelves, or removal of tiny, bite-sized items.  Our problem is the entrance to the basement: It doesn’t have a door.  The basement is located around the corner from the living room and it’s a tight corner without much space.  As my husband has pointed out: “They’re the kind of stairs that you’re going down, sometimes whether you want to or not.”

On the right side of the stairs is a wall of cabinets, which we love for storage.  Because of these cabinets we can’t screw a gate into the wall, so we have a gate that we have to remove and replace each time we go downstairs or we have to climb over the gate (my signature move).  That has worked so far, but our little guy has already started climbing on the furniture.  We’re scared the gate might be next.  Past the gate he would find stairs with linoleum covering, aluminum strips, no banister to the left, and a cement floor for a landing.  So, yeah, it would be a tough fall.

Inner calm, holiday cooking, and the deer

I am trying to meditate. Really, seriously, trying.

My son is napping. The phone is off. I am sitting cross-legged in the one corner of the house that is free of dirty laundry, dust bunnies or Lego blocks. 

I am breathing in. I am breathing out.

For the past year or so, I’ve been trying to fit 10 or 15 minutes of meditation into my day, just to see if all those Buddhist monks might be on to something.

Could meditation really help me push the mute button on my distracting and distressing brain chatter? Would I really learn how to be present in the moment, and would that help me respond to stress in other ways besides screaming and jumping up and down?

I’m sick of letting my brain drag me down Anxiety Lane, with its inevitable What-If detours and Should-Have traffic jams. I want all of me to be parked in the now, soaking in my 3-year-old rather than worrying over whether he’ll still call me when he's in college.

Why yes, I will be hanging out at a rest stop this winter

Despite our ridiculously fortunate weather this November, it seems winter is, in fact, going to come this year.  Which means it's time to start thinking about indoor play areas again. 

We have our usual hangouts.  There's the mall, which has a playground, carousel, and Thomas train for my son, and a beautiful collection of retail splendor for me.  And while the playground is free and the rides are a mere $2 each, the mall usually comes with a hidden price tag in the form of a shoe purchase or some poor junk food choice from the food court. 

The library is another excellent winter hangout.  It's one of my favorite places, but there are only so many times you can go there before the librarians start to look at you funny. 

We have memberships at Brookfield Zoo and the Shedd Aquarium, both great winter hangouts.  And there are lots of free days in the winter at the Field Museum and the Museum of Science and Industry.  Plus there are places designed specifically for indoor play, such as Day Frog, Fantasy Kingdom, Hobbitland, and Room 2 Play.  There are several children's museums and inflatable playlands.  And the list of indoor play areas goes on and on ... gosh, I love Chicago! 

But the thing is, all of those places are kind of a big production for us to visit.  I live in the suburbs, so anywhere in the city is a major drive.  And even if you live nearby, there's the pricey entrance fee at a lot of these places.  Some of them have irritating parking situations, or it's frustrating to get to them on public transit.  And a lot of these places are overwhelming, since they are filled to the brim with children trying to let out pent-up energy, and you're schlepping around a pile of winter clothing in a place where the heat is on full-blast. 

Blame the Press?

What in the world is going on in Da' Mayors head, when he blames the press for Oprah's departure from television in 2011?

Did you all see the press conference? Daley actually blamed the media criticism of Oprah, shutting down Michigan Ave. for a few days to open her season this year. "That became a big rhubarb in the Chicago press—-beat up Oprah...So you keep kicking people, people will leave, simple as that.” He even went so far as to say that "he's going to call Oprah to get the real story". OK...

First off, I didn't think the press was all that hard on Oprah. If anyone comes along and closes a premier street, isn't it the presses duty to ask questions? Yeah, it cost $54,832, and the tab was picked up by Oprah. Case closed. They were tougher on President Obama. Didn't his party after winning the Presidency cost $1,74 million? (has that bill been paid yet?) These are questions I want asked. I want celebrities paying the tab when they use the city for their own purpose.

Immigration

Everyone at SVmoms knows I am a total luddite. Everyone at my office, too. My kids are my homegrown tech consultants. This will come in handy if we upgrade ANYTHING this holiday season. My entire family will tell you I can break electronics just by touching them. Sometimes all I have to do is look at them, or mention them and they ERROR.

I am forever a digital immigrant.

I learned to word process back in the 80’s when I walked into my internship the first day and they sat me down at a PC and gave me a book and said: come get me when you know how to do a letter with a mailmerge.

WTF?  I knew how to type 80 words a minute on an IBM selectric and I had a newly minted MA from an Ivy League Institution.  Mail merge might have been the Chinese word for milk??? It took about an hour to figure out and a lot of letterhead died for my cause.

And that's how I moved into the Digital Nation.

Teaching my Boys through Football

I might be mistaken, but I am pretty sure that one of the reasons my hubby fell in love with me so many years ago was that I knew just as much about football as he did. I had my favorite teams, I knew the names of the quarterbacks and other star players, I knew most of the rules and the referee hand signals, etc... I could certainly hold my own in a room full of guys calling the plays they thought the coach should run next and screaming at the refs for that unnecessary holding penalty.
Yes, I am one of those girls who LOVES football. Truthfully, I can't get enough. I love it live, I love it on TV, I read about it, I watch SportsCenter and CollegeGameday. And my hubby... he loves that about me! And now we are passing our love of football onto our boys, which is ok by me. I think one of my proudest moments as a mother was seeing my sons do their first Gator Chomp (in honor of my beloved Florida Gators)! I'm just kidding.... sort of.

I know football can be kinda neanderthal. All the hard hits and tackling and piling on top of each other just to get that little pigskin into your opponent's end-zone. But, I personally think there are some important life lessons that can be learned from football and I don't mind using the greatest sport around to teach my boys some important lessons. You may mock or think I am making too much out of a simple sport. But hear me out....

First lesson, LOYALTY! True football fans are loyal people. I have cheered my Gators on to many victories over the years, but I have witnessed my fair share of losses too. But through it all, I remain a devoted fan. Chicagoans are notorious for selling out Bears games even when they are at their worst (Did ya' watch this week's game?  Yikes!). It is part of being a fan. You cheer in good times and bad. And I love that my boys are learning that to love someone/something means staying loyal even when the loving is not easy. (Are you mocking me yet? I am being totally serious here... mostly. :) )

Blocked on Twitter: Who me? Couldn't be!

 I have officially received my first social media snub. Someone "blocked" me on Twitter. Yes, I know this is totally trivial and silly. But it still stings a little.

Here's how it went down. I had a few minutes to waste yesterday so I went in to my Twitter account to take a peek at what was going on. I came across a retweet (RT) of another mommy blogger's tweet. I don't actually know this mommy, but she is part of the larger Chicago-area mommy blogger community. This mom has interesting things to share and I thought that I had "followed" her already. But her tweets weren't appearing in my tweet stream. So I clicked on her Twitter handle and then clicked "follow."*

Imagine my surprise when I received the following message, "This user has blocked you from following them."

What? Blocked me? This is a move reserved for wanna-be Twitter porn stars who try to follow your account. Or Twitter users who constantly spam you. Why would this person have intentionally blocked me from following her?

the Holiday Blitz

And we are off!

Deer in the headlights!

October 31 kicks off a 60 day special event/holiday traditions marathon at our house. I barely get time to set up and strike the graveyard, smoke machine and costumes before we get hit with 2 birthdays, a Thanksgiving feast that we ALWAYS have to host in order to assure its Gluten Free, a December birthday, Hanukkah, Christmas at the cousins, and finishing
up with a traditional old movie and confetti New Years Eve.  WHEW.

Of course then we freeze to death and recover in January. But this year, I gotta problem.

neighborly etiquette

Moving to Chicago from Omaha, Nebraska meant a lot of changes for our family.  We left a house with a front and back yard and friendly neighbors on either side.  Now we live in a six-flat where we are still trying to learn about neighborly etiquette.  Our kids are learning to be mindful of neighbors above and below as they play, both inside and out.

Recently, our kids were happily enjoying the unexpectedly nice weather by playing outside in our backyard (also affectionately known as our "back concrete").  The neighbor kids from our building joined in the fun, as we parents caught up and enjoyed the opportunity for adult conversation for a change.

Before too long, a pick up soccer game got started.  The space is fairly small for that kind of a crowd and that kind of a game, so it didn't take too long for someone to get hurt.  My daughter was the first to take a tumble and her cries of "agony" filled the air.  My husband immediately comforted her, as he hushed her loud cries.

It's a Wonderful Kitchen, Jimmy Stewart

Dinner parties.

Some women worry about their menus.  Others fuss over table linens or vacuum the same patch of rug eleven times.

Me, I worried about my humble 1963 kitchen.

The lasagna simmered.  The salad was tossed.  The wine was chilling.

I was sweating.

Glancing around the kitchen, I noticed how the parquet floor was a tad uneven near the doorway.  I wrung my hands.  What would my esteemed guests think?  Would they point to the wood cabinets and whisper, "Good Lord, were those things installed when Kennedy held office?"  (The answer is -- yes).  We replaced the stove and oven, our faucet was new, but the cabinetry with its loose hinges and torn-off baby-proofing plastic -- old as the house itself.

I wiped my hands on the dish towel.  My husband put the leaf in our dining table.  The kids were tidying their room.  I glanced around.  Kid stains on the beige carpeting.  There were new scratches on the dining table.  Even the dog's Spongebob collar looked ratty.