Don't Try This At Home

Iowa: Lightning Bugs and Livin' Free

I wrote this post last summer, but forgot to post it. I found it this week and thought I'd share it with you. Next week I'll be writing about our family reunion in Iowa. I'm late, but whatever.

When I was a little girl, I loved my summers in Iowa. As I grew older I didn’t spend much time there. I had college to attend, jobs to work, life to live. Now that I have children, though, it seems incredibly important to show them life in a big family and life in the country.

When you live in a city—even a city as small-town as mine—you miss out on certain life experiences: counting stars, catching lightning bugs, freedom to run around without fear of strangers and dangers.

I have been trying to take my children back to Iowa at least once a year. They love it and I love it. Chilihead, Jr. keeps an eye out for “corn fields and dirt roads.” We know we’re close then. When we see the Iowa state sign, we know life can move a little slower now and we savor each activity without worrying about being late for the next.

When we visit in the summer, Max and Chilihead, Jr. love to catch lightning bugs. They are in awe of the sheer number of lightning bugs seen each night. They think it is hilarious that we used to pinch the butts off the bugs and stick them on our fingers as diamond rings. As I told my son this story, he laughed—until I wiped my hand on his cheek like I was wiping bug guts on him. Then it wasn’t so funny.

When we left the farm the first night it was just us on that dirt road. Max looked out the back window and yelled for Chilihead, Jr. to join him. “You can’t believe how many lightning bugs there are out here!” Wild Thing responded, “But look out the window! You can’t believe how many stars there are!”

I used to think the exact same things.

Iowa, Land of the Casserole

My love of Iowa is well-documented. So don't give me any grief about giving them grief.

Iowa is the land of the casserole. They will vehemently deny it, but I have yet to visit that state without being fed several casseroles on my visit. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good casserole. Every meal, though?

They even like their chips to be casseroles. Case in point: Walking Tacos. It’s basically a bag of chips and you dump everything to make a taco into the chip bag. You have your little bag of Doritos and you dump in meat, sour cream, cheese, tomatoes, etc. and eat it with a spoon right out of the bag. My husband was instantly in love; why couldn’t we just buy Fritos instead of Doritos and dump in chili? Instant Walking Frito Pie! Genius.

Also? I was informed that the Iowa version of tuna noodle casserole is to make Mac&Cheese, dump in Cream of Mushroom soup, and add tuna. Wow. Of course, this is also really easy to make as a one-person casserole: you just use the single serve microwave Mac&Cheese.

Again, WOW.

Amazing minds come up with this stuff.

Picture courtesy of Benimoto's Flickr group via CC.

Another Thing I Never Thought I'd Say

On any given day since I've become a mom I say things I never thought I would. Things I never even considered saying before.

So, can you figure out what we started doing this weekend from this conversation?

Child: Mom! I found another finger!

Me: Awesome! Put it in the dining room with the others.

July 4th In Pictures

Mothers Say the Darndest Things

Eleven years ago, Phantom of the Opera came to our city for the first time. It was a HUGE deal. Tickets were hard to come by and everyone who was anyone or no one (like us) would witness the spectacle at some point. And the outfits! Sequins and gowns, people.

I was able to score some excellent tickets for my husband and I and my mom and her friend. I had to endure an excruciatingly long line and a local television celebrity (in the loosest sense--I think he must have some weird iron-clad contract or something) poking his face and microphone into everyone else’s face and yelling, “Hey! What’s the deal?” I was able to escape by simply giving my patented “look”. He quickly passed me by.

So. I was able to get tickets to the show and we wowed my mom with her present and we were amazed when the organ went up in the air RIGHT. OVER. OUR. HEADS. We were that close.

A good evening.

I had to tell you that part to show just how fun and exciting everything was and also, so I could tell you this next part.

The morning after The Phantom of the Opera, my mother was so thankful she insisted she take me out to breakfast. Who am I to turn down free food? So we went in search of a good breakfast. The problem was that I was fairly new to town and didn’t know where to go.

We stopped at a gas station because, really, if you want a good breakfast, stop and ask directions from a gas station attendant.

My mom came out of the gas station and got back in the car.

“He said there is a place called Billy Jin’s on the next street over,” she said.

“Billy Jin’s? Are you sure that’s what he said?” I asked.

“Yes. I asked him, ‘Billy Jin’s?’ and he nodded and said, ‘Billy Jin’s.’”

“OK. I’ve never heard of it, but I’ll see if I can find it.”

As we drove the mile to the next street and followed his directions, I had a revelation.

“Mom? Do you think maybe he was saying Village Inn instead of Billy Jin’s? Because there’s a Village Inn right there.”

“Oh.”

I wish I could say it's gotten better, but that would be a big ol' whopper.

Overheard: Look Into My Glass

Chilihead, Jr. swept into the room with a sarong on her head, holding a goblet from the cupboard.

She approached me quite seriously and said, "You may ask me any question. I know all. I will use my goblet to see your fortune."

"Madame Chilihead, Jr., will I ever have $2?"

Chilihead, Jr. rubbed her hand over the top of the goblet and replied, "Yes."

"Madame Chilihead, Jr., what will happen at the family reunion in July?"

More rubbing of the goblet. "We will have fun."

"Madame Chilihead, Jr., will you eat more french fries than your cousin Trevor?"

Rubbing of the goblet accompanied by an eye roll. "Of course I will."

Now, knowing full well that Chilihead, Jr. has misplaced her Americal Girl doll's skirt and has been looking for it I asked the following question: "Madame Chilihead, Jr., where is Kit's skirt?"

Without missing a beat, she rubbed the goblet and said, "In this house."

And I fell over laughing. She does know everything.

Every Family Needs Its Extrovert

Last week was...different. Chilihead, Jr. went to acting camp and was gone every day, all day. That left two introverts at home (Max and me).

Do you know what happens when you leave two introverts at home who are used to having an extrovert in the mix? Nothing.

As in, we did nothing all week. We did not force ourselves to venture forth into the unwelcoming heat of the city. We did not force ourselves to wander about in the midst of other people. We were lost without our extrovert. We had no vision, no pep. We were content to just...be.

Chilihead, Jr. is vivacious, interested, and, perhaps, a little ADHD (though I haven't had her tested--I just notice that FOCUS isn't a word she's overly familiar with). She regularly challenges Max and me to jump outside ourselves and be part of this world. Without her enthusiasm, we found we lacked it in ourselves sometimes.

Max spent his days constructing elaborate battles between various army men and action figures. He built entire fleets of Star Wars fighters out of LEGOS. He read his books and he watched television--his favorite show being on the BBC channel: How Clean Is Your House? I think he just liked to see how much I could gag in one hour.

I spent my days wandering around the house, picking up stray items, and looking at my watch to see when I could pick up Chilihead, Jr. from camp, wondering what she was doing right that instant.

Chilihead, Jr. spent her days making new friends, rehearsing her parts in The Wizard of Oz, and building condos for baby toads during recess (couldn't make it up if I tried, folks). She was truly in her element at camp. The only thing she regretted was that there was not an overnight option.

Our extrovert was with us all weekend and I noticed that Max didn't let her out of his sight. He didn't eat breakfast without her. He didn't play one Star Wars battle without her. He didn't make a move without her. I think this week, now that we have our extrovert back, we may venture out into our world a little more and we'll all be a little more comfortable doing it.

Best Date Ever: The Drive-In

When I was three, one of the things I remember is going to the drive-in movie with my parents. I saw Paper Moon with Ryan O'Neal and his daughter Tatum. I ate popcorn and sat in the front seat of our red Volkswagen station wagon, Ruby Begonia.

When I was older, and we had moved to another city in another state, drive-in movies were still a popular choice for entertainment. I remember seeing such classics as Murder by Death and Matilda at the drive-in with my parents. There was a run-down concessions stand in the back of the lot and a small park with two swings at the front of the lot. We didn't bother with either. My dad would make a large batch of popcorn and put it in a brown paper bag. I still remember the dark brown spots on the outside of the bag from the melted butter. My dad always rolled the top down, instead of scrunching it up, so the rolled part made a sort of handle. On those hot summer evenings, the wind would blow through my hair as I spread out the blanket beside our car. My brother and I would climb in and out of the car, depending on our interest in the movie, and steal handfuls of popcorn. We had a blanket, some lawn chairs, and a whole lotta fun.

Eventually, drive-ins all around the country closed. I never really thought much about it. They were just monuments on either end of our small city that no one visited any more.

Now I have my own family. We live in a city with a working drive-in. In fact, it's a historical marker right on Route 66 and is the largest drive-in in the state. It can accommodate 1,000 cars--though I doubt it's seen anything like that since its hey-day forty or fifty years ago. Every summer it opens its gates and shows the latest summer blockbusters.

A few weeks ago I decided it was time to introduce my children to the fun-filled family outing known as the drive-in. I had to explain it to them.

You see, there is a large building--a screen, really. You drive your car in and you park. Then you watch the movie right from your car! They project it onto that big screen that looks like a building!

They were intrigued and excited. We decided we would see Kung Fu Panda, and possibly stay for the new Indy movie. They counted down the days.

Thursday finally came and we began getting the car ready. Everyone had a pillow and a blanket and one stuffed animal. I made four bowls of popcorn and put them in a plastic bag--don't start, it's the only thing I could find. (I kept thinking to myself that I really needed to stop by the grocery and get a real bag so I could roll the top down and make a handle. Except all my stores use plastic bags. So plastic it was. I missed the brown spots on the paper bag.) We packed drinks and extra snacks. The world was our oyster and we planned to be well-fed if it killed us.

On our way out the door, Chilihead, Jr. was talking a mile-a-minute--a true testament to how important this date really was.

IknowyousaidonlybringoneanimalbutIaskedChocolateandSonyawhichonewantedtocome andtheybothsaidtheydid. SoIthinktheycanbothcomedon'tyou? Iknowtheyareadogandcatbuttheycangetalongcan'tyouguys? Theysaidtheywouldgetalong! Let'sgoIcan'twaitdoyouknowhowtogethere?

We laughed and sang all the way across town. I let Chilihead Jr. sit in the front seat when we arrived so she could hand the money to the cashier. She was excited, but said, "You'll let Max do this next time, though, right? Because he should get a turn." I assured her I would be fair.

As we pulled into the giant parking lot I saw that the heavy metal speakers with their scratchy music were gone and realized we would listen to the movie through our radio. The poles still stand, though, and delineate parking spaces. The children helped me choose our spot.

Once we were parked, Max and Chilihead, Jr. sprang out of their seats and immediately started making nests for each of us. The snacks were placed in a convenient place where all could reach them. Stuffed animals were perched so they wouldn't miss a moment. My children laughed, smiled, hugged, and giggled. They were truly so happy they didn't know what to do with themselves.

As the sun went down, the breeze picked up. I couldn't have planned better weather for our outing. There we lay, the three of us, in the back of the van on blankets and pillows, with our bare feet hanging off the end catching that lovely breeze.

We even stayed for the double feature. It was adventure for sure. One I can't wait to repeat.

I Did The Best I Could

My husband wasn't home. He was off playing golf at a fairly expensive golf course we belong to. The kids and I had just finished our dinner of take-out (that was two meals courtesy of trans-fats that day). I had been blogging on my MacBook laptop all day and was just finishing up some posting for the week. And that's when the doorbell rang.

A man and his wife were driving by in their beat-up pickup from 1979 with the windows rolled down because there was no air conditioning. They noticed we had piles of brush in our yard. They wanted to take the brush to the dump for us if we could pay them for their trouble. The dump would charge them $20 to dump it; he and his wife wanted $50 to cover expenses and have some left over to put toward baby formula, diapers, food, and a motel.

I actually stood in the doorway and hemmed and hawed. I was pretty sure a check wouldn't do them any good and they would prefer the cash. Fifty dollars cash is a lot of money for me to hand over to someone and I like to think I'm fairly careful with that kind of money. After what seemed like forever, I finally said yes, they could take away our brush.

It was a hard decision for me to allow them to work for me. In this day and age, with the panhandlers at every street corner who make more in a day than I have to spend for the week, I am afraid of being suckered. I am naive. I've been taken for a ride more times than I care to count. And I hate it. I hate to be made a fool of. I don't want to be a mark.

So it took me a full 60 seconds to decide if I should let them clean up our brush. Something my husband could do when he got home, but probably wouldn't do for another week.

After I consented, the man got to work and his wife hopped out of the truck to help. That's when I saw their two year old daughter. She was completely tired and about to fall asleep. They took out a beat up stroller for her to sit in while they worked, but she perked up and started "helping" put the branches in the back of the truck.

My daughter brought down two stuffed animals for the little girl. I brought out a bag of clothes I'd been meaning to take to Big Wilt for the last month but hadn't gotten around to it. The wife looked to be about my size (when I was skinny last year) and these clothes would probably fit her. I hesitated to give her the sack, but only because I didn't want to offend her. She took the clothing graciously and thanked me. She was much better at this than I was and I felt even worse for that.

In the end, they carted off our broken branches, my $50, two stuffed animals, and a sack of my hand-me-down clothes. I hope I've done the right thing. I hope I've made things a little easier for them tonight. I hope I'm not being laughed at behind my back for being a stupid housewife that's an easy mark. But if I am, then I am. I tried to do the best I could.

Hello Kitty! A Giveaway

This giveaway is closed.

Congratulations to Brooke (@ gmail). She won the $25 Build-A-Bear gift card.

Build-A-Bear generously sent Wild Thing Chilihead Jr. one of the new Tropical Hello Kitty stuffed animals last week. This toy is absolutely adorable! Her head is so big and soft and squishy! I found myself stroking her head while watching television the other night. It's just that soft. You can see more of Tropical Hello Kitty at her special site and they even have a Flickr group. Adorable, right?

The Build-A-Bear people have generously given me a $25 gift certificate so you and your child can go build one yourselves! Want to win it? Here are the hoops:

1. The giveaway will run from today until Friday, June 13.
2. Please tell me why your child will love Tropical Hello Kitty. Please make your comment as entertaining as possible. You have no idea how I love to be entertained.
3. You don't have to be a blogger to play, but you do need to submit a valid e-mail address. If I can't contact you, you can't win.
4. You must have a US mailing address.
5. I will choose a random winner. Then I will e-mail you to get your shipping info. You will have four days to get in touch with me. If I don't hear from you in four days, you forfeit your prize and I'll choose a new winner. Be sure to check your spam folders!

That's it! Good luck!