Debi: A Very Citified Weekend!

I thought it would be fun to contrast the weather and activity in Stori's world with what was happening in our world this weekend!

My husband is in the middle of studying for a test that will add another set of initials after his name. He's an investment analyst, and need I say more about the need for him to stay as current as possible? The test is this coming Friday, so I needed to keep the kids out of his hair for the weekend. Around here, we don't turn our kids out into the outdoors until it's probably warm enough for Stori's family to go swimming -- in the 40s here, which was yesterday's ambient temperature, we still spend most of the day inside. What to do?

Well, the morning is taken care of. Every Saturday, our girls take swimming lessons at the YMCA. They're in two different classes, but they meet simultaneously at 9:30am. (A note: since my daughters wake up at what I not-so-affectionately refer to as "Dark-thirty," this is no problem for us. By 9:30, we've eaten, dressed, watched an hour of cartoons, folded a load of laundry, and possibly set dinner into a crock pot or started a loaf of bread rising or made homemade muffins.) I watch their classes from a perch in the balcony above the pool, alternating between reading a book (right now, it's Lisa See's Dragon Bones) and admiring their flailing progress.

After a quick shower involving more strawberry-scented pink shampoo than is really necessary for a half-dozen girls, I take them to the drop-in childcare center and get a chance for a workout. I've been running regularly for about 8 months now, and had made some pretty good progress, but recently I've started noticing that the big toe on my right foot, and the top of that foot, feel like someone is pounding on them with a small hammer that's been left sitting on an open flame. This week, my run became much shorter than I'd like and turned into a short run and a short ride on the recumbent bike. A blissfully solitary shower later, I picked up the kids from their frenetic running around in the drop-in center, and we hopped in the car to meet their grandmother for lunch and adventure.

I try not to drive too much around Evanston, but with such sprawling city and suburban friends and family, when I do drive, it's often pretty far. I drove about 30 minutes away to a ridiculous planned community and fake city center called "The Glen," halfway between my mother-in-law's house and ours. It's home to lots of overpriced retail and restaurants, but on a day when it's just too muddy and chilly to play on metal playground equipment or go to the beach, its proximity to the Kohl Children's Museum is perfect. After lunch at a noodle shop, all five of us spent the rest of the afternoon there. The kids enjoyed the babydoll daycare center, the stuffed animal veternary clinic, the fake grocery store, the toy mechanic shop, and several indescribable exhibits involving inflating things, shooting balls at each other, and the moving of beanbags from one place to another. My mother-in-law and I had a few yuks making molds of our various body parts on a six foot tall, three foot wide pinhead toy. Yes, just what you're thinking.

After a stop at the candy store, we drove the 30 minutes back home for a dinner of leftovers with Daddy, who gave up studying for the night.

Today, we've had a lazy day at home, with the kids bouncing off the walls and finding new ways to make messes everywhere. In a few minutes, some friends will be calling us to meet at the park, since today's high is 50 -- just warm enough for we midwesterners to put on thin gloves and have a shot at the monkey bars. We'll ride our bikes -- Ronni on her own bike, and Sammi in a seat on the back of mine. It's about 8 blocks away, and I bet we'll stay until dinner time. Dinner is destined to be a joint affair with our friends, and just peeking at the contents of my fridge, I think I'll make something with white beans. I haven't quite gotten that far, and I don't have to -- these are fly-by-the-seat-of-our-pants friends, and it's a relief to have that in our future today.

No ice sculptures or sled dogs here -- but would anyone like to thank me for not taking a picture of my tush in that pinhead toy?