A not so bad day, after all
Aaah, leave it to my thoughtful, sensitive husband. My kids came home from their adventure-packed outing in downtown Chicago talking a mile-a-minute about everything they saw: the art museum, the sculptures, the fountains, the orchestra rehearsal, the buildings. My kids have a real budding fascination with art, especially sculpture. I think it's a connection with the artist grandpa they never got to know.
My husband dragged the group, the three kids and my mom down Michigan 
Avenue, the "magnificent Mile" of haute couture and conspicuous consumption, to the Picasso man/dog sculpture (right), the Miro sculpture (left), and millennium Park to see the big, silver bean, and the fiber optic face fountain. They also visited the art museum and spent loads of time looking at medieval arms and armor. My son is a chip off the old block - mine, of course. All told, my husband dragged my kids and my mom on a ten-mile walk. And the most amazing part of it all was they didn't complain one bit!
Not chips off of my old block. Thank goodness!
They came home to their grumpy mom elated, hungry, tired, wide-eyed, and anxious to share the highlights of their day. The baby, finally freed from the stroller, was excited to race through the house causing as much damage as all two feet of her could manage, which happens to be a lot. Three adults could not keep up with her path of destruction. I turned my back on her for one second and she went fishing in the toilet. My mom raced to stop her, but there was no prying her little hands off of the books she tore from the bookshelf. My husband turned his attention to my son and next thing you know, she was half-way up the ladder to my son's 6-foot loft bed.
I whipped up some bean and cheese tacos and tortilla soup for supper, and got the kids ready for bed. They weren't quite wound down enough from their day, but we managed to get the older two into bed at a reasonable time. The baby was not yet prepared to be caged in her crib, and she howled and howled and howled until Grandma couldn't take any more. That shrewd little imp figured out how to say grandma "a-ma" just for the occasion. A-ma couldn't resist.
In the middle of bed time, mom turned to my husband and said, "Why don't you take your wife out? I'll take care of the kids." Ah, thank You, again, dear Lord, for moms.
My husband would have preferred a nice, quiet evening at the movie theatre, but I had spent quite enough time sitting in front of a screen, so he offered to give me an abridged version of the ten-mile tour he had led earlier that day.
It was wonderful.
My husband dragged the group, the three kids and my mom down Michigan 
Avenue, the "magnificent Mile" of haute couture and conspicuous consumption, to the Picasso man/dog sculpture (right), the Miro sculpture (left), and millennium Park to see the big, silver bean, and the fiber optic face fountain. They also visited the art museum and spent loads of time looking at medieval arms and armor. My son is a chip off the old block - mine, of course. All told, my husband dragged my kids and my mom on a ten-mile walk. And the most amazing part of it all was they didn't complain one bit!
Not chips off of my old block. Thank goodness!
They came home to their grumpy mom elated, hungry, tired, wide-eyed, and anxious to share the highlights of their day. The baby, finally freed from the stroller, was excited to race through the house causing as much damage as all two feet of her could manage, which happens to be a lot. Three adults could not keep up with her path of destruction. I turned my back on her for one second and she went fishing in the toilet. My mom raced to stop her, but there was no prying her little hands off of the books she tore from the bookshelf. My husband turned his attention to my son and next thing you know, she was half-way up the ladder to my son's 6-foot loft bed.
I whipped up some bean and cheese tacos and tortilla soup for supper, and got the kids ready for bed. They weren't quite wound down enough from their day, but we managed to get the older two into bed at a reasonable time. The baby was not yet prepared to be caged in her crib, and she howled and howled and howled until Grandma couldn't take any more. That shrewd little imp figured out how to say grandma "a-ma" just for the occasion. A-ma couldn't resist.
In the middle of bed time, mom turned to my husband and said, "Why don't you take your wife out? I'll take care of the kids." Ah, thank You, again, dear Lord, for moms.
My husband would have preferred a nice, quiet evening at the movie theatre, but I had spent quite enough time sitting in front of a screen, so he offered to give me an abridged version of the ten-mile tour he had led earlier that day.
It was wonderful.
posted by law school widow at 11:50 PM
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