Chicago Moms Blog

Morton Grove Farmer's Market for Food and Fun

When my husband lost his job last fall in the fall of 2008, he had a vague vision of becoming an organic farmer. I envisioned a new reality show on TLC based on his idea, "Little Jews on the Prairie." Alas we didn't get the show. Okay, we never even tried. His vision was outrageously impractical on so many levels, I could devote an entire blog to it.

But he did manage to get a little closer to the land while helping our community do the same. He helped found a Farmer's Market in north suburban Morton Grove. Working alongside a crack a committee of volunteers, he helped, helps, bring farm-fresh produce to our town every Saturday.

The market opened Memorial Day weekend and, rain aside, it's been great.

The market is as much about community as it is about food. With hundreds of village residents and those from nearby towns stopping in each week, it's a place to meet and greet, to gather with friends and neighbors.

At the market we not only pick up fresh veggies, but we run into family friends, my children's classmates, and even some of my former classmates (who have aged enough that I can call them old classmates). And beyond our seasonal picks, we enjoy fresh donuts from a local bakery, delicious chocolate covered frozen bananas, and other locally produced goodies.

Statecation: Put Your Tax Dollars to Work While You Play

A blogger trip out to Galena (disclosure: I helped arrange it) got me thinking about the benefits of a statecation. That is, a trip within your home state. Think about it, a statecation is more exciting than a home-based staycation. You can likely drive there on less than a tank of gas. There's no worries about volcano ash, cramped airplanes or flight delays and you may even pick up a few facts about what makes your state so great.

For example, until I visited Galena a few years ago, I wasn't aware of what a thriving and important city (14,000 residents in the mid 1800s!) it was back in the day.

Beyond history and education, a statecation provides the crucial benefit of putting your vacation dollars to work while you play. We often hear about how spending money is patriotic in that it keeps our economy going. I don't know about your family, but in my family, the money flows a little more loosely on vacation than it does at home.

Why not use that money to help Illinois? We may have a reputations as a blue state, but when it comes to our budget, we are in deeply in the red.

Would a Pedophile Drive a Prius?

As mom to two tweens, an afternoon at the park is not what it used to be. Rather than chase after them, fearing for their safety on the tall slides and monkey bars or play alongside them on the basketball court, they are content to stick with their friends while I walk the large track that encircles the park.

Did I say content? My 12-year-old might possibly die of embarrassment mid-court if I excitedly joined in his game. So I keep my distance, but I still keep an eye on what's going on. I scan the park making mental notes about who is playing where and with whom.

The other day I found it odd when a middle-aged gentleman showed up at the park with a remote-controlled airplane. It wasn't some flimsy store model, it was clearly the kind that belonged to a serious hobbyist. Still, I wondered why he had chosen to fly it in a field so close to playground teeming with children. Was he trying to lure them in Pied Piper style?

The New Normal

The house is quiet aside from hum of the refrigerator and the chug-chug-chugging of the washing machine. I am alone, all alone, for the first time in weeks. Months, maybe. The boys are in school and my husband is at work. It's been nearly a year since I've been able to say that.

My husband is at work. Oh, does that sound good.

When he first lost his job, we played like a retired couple- we'd take walks together and indulge in the occasional afternoon delight in our empty house, but when it became clear just how bad the economy was and how scarce good jobs were, it became considerably less fun. In fact, as weeks stretched into months, it was downright stressful and incredibly unpleasant.

Bitten By A Dolphin Before I Was Attacked By A Killer Whale

By now, you've probably heard about the death of whale trainer Dawn Brancheau at Sea World last month. After hearing the sad news, I had a fleeting thought, "that could have been me." Sort of. I am just a couple of years older than Dawn was at the time of her death. And just like her, I visited Sea World as child and knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life there.

I was mesmerized by that first trip to Sea World. It gave me a mission in life and I planned accordingly: college zoology courses, SCUBA certification, a summer program at the Dolphin Research Center, and, finally after my junior year of college, a full summer internship at a world-famous dolphin research facility in Hawaii. 

I headed out to Hawaii certain that I'd return a year later for graduate school. I was living my dream. I was a dolphin trainer (and a fish cleaner, not to mention a dolphin tank cleaner one weekend a month). 

Vistaprint: Cheaper Than Therapy

In the name of disclosure, I'm interrupting the natural flow of this post by noting that I have no material relationship with Vistaprint. That is, unless you count the thousands of dollars I have saved in therapy bills by using this printing service to solve my ongoing identity crisis.

"Mommy cards" those adorable (or sickening, depending on you point of view) cards that say "Janie's Mommy Call 847-555-5555 if you want a play date," were not popular when my boys were young. Indeed, I spent my early years as a mom rather anonymously.

I had given up my career. My life revolved around my boys. I floated through the world nearly invisible to all but family members until I got a life of my own, and I started a print zine. 

As editor and publisher of a zine for women in martial arts, I needed business cards. Thus came my first ridiculously inexpensive set of cards from Vistaprint. With a few clicks and an investment of under $10, I became someone. Someone who mattered. Someone with business cards.

Skeleton in My Closet

Okay it's not quite a skeleton, but it's something that I keep hidden away, and after so many years of it just hanging there in the closet, I'm turning to the Internets for help. What do I do with this coat?

I inherited this coat over a decade ago. This big, bright, ostentatious, yellow-orange, look at me!, shiny, vinyl raincoat. Did I mention it's luxuriously/sickeningly lined with equally outrageous bright yellow-orange rabbit fur?

What does one do with something like this? I wore now and again the two winters I was pregnant because, my aversion to fur aside, it's seductively warm and cozy. And speaking of seductively, if you were ever to greet your significant other wearing nothing but a coat, this is the one to do it in. I'm just saying it's that soft.

An Art Project for All of Chicagoland

I was on my way out of a meeting in Chicago when someone, a lovely friend of Alma's actually, asked if I wanted a Red Cube. She mentioned something about Art Institute Chicago and its new modern wing. I didn't fully grasp everything she told me, but as the once-a-month "Art Mom" in my nine-year-old son's homeroom, I was intrigued and accepted her offer of a cube.

Red Cube in hand, I headed to my car. After arriving home, I got down to work, while the Red Cube sat in my car for a few days surrounded by the re-usable shopping bags I always forget to bring into stores, the latest issue of Chicago Parent, and other clutter.

If only I'd known.

Chanukas Interruptus

At first I laughed off the email from a colleague who apologized for interrupting my Chanukah with a work request. Chanukah may be misunderstood by non-Jews as "the Jewish Christmas," but it's not even close. Chanukah is actually a very minor holiday; of course I was available to work.

She who laughs first does not laugh best. It turned out that this year my traditional Eight Crazy Nights were insane. There was a synagogue party, a friend's party, another friend's party, a choir performance at synagogue, a family get together, a school concert, the night we all have classes, and another family get together.

Instead of gathering around the menorah, lighting the candles, singing songs, and maybe opening a gift or two, we hurried through the process. Some nights we reluctantly lit candles at home only because the boys begged us to and refused to go to bed until we caved in.

The Amazing Thing about the Santa Train

After a night in Chicago with some of my blogs friends, including Chicago Moms Bloggers, Sarah, MJ, Miss Lori, Nancy, NJ Moms Contributor Vanessa and NYC Moms' Beth, I stepped onto Belmont to quite a racket. When I looked around for the cacophonous source, my eyes stuck on the CTA tracks. There up on the elevated tracks was a sight to behold--the Santa Train!

Call me a simple suburbanite, but I've never seen anything like it in my life. The blinged out train was awash with colorful lights and joyous holiday signs. It had the equivalent space of a train car decked out with an open-air Santa scene worthy of any shopping mall. It was delightful. The kind of thing you cannot look at without breaking into a smile.

Or perhaps I should say it's the kind of thing I could not look at without breaking into a smile even though I'm Jewish. As I looked around me on the street, I began to think I had seen an optical illusion up on the tracks. None of the wizened Chicagoans around me bothered to take note of the spectacle above. I looked at the passersby focusing on the smart phones or keeping their heads down as they walked into the wind. Did they even notice the Santa Train?

Oh well, their loss. I headed off to my bat mitzvah class filled with a child's sense of wonder and delight.

Check out the schedule for the CTA's holiday train.

Original post to Chicago Moms Blog.

Kim Moldofsky also writes for Hormone-colored Days and around the web.