So lately we've been super into our American Girls. I decided to pull mine out for the girls to play with, and I was immediately sucked back into my ten year old body. I absolutely loved dressing up my dolls and setting up imaginary situations, and it was surprisingly fun to set it all up again. On display here are Samantha, who Meriahna says has "passed away" meaning she's no longer being made, and a "make your own" American Girl Doll. We can't wait until the new store opens up at Oak Park Mall.
Sydney also helped me be a better wife to Johnny this week by helping me decorate cookies to send to him. Sorry to ruin the surprise Johnny. I hope they get there looking something like this. Notice Sydney's use of Christmas sprinkles and Valentine's Day sprinkles; very festive.
There are days when I miss my long hair (I cut off over a foot), so I make myself feel better by brushing and playing with Meriahna's. I think I learned how to do this in an American Girl magazine back in the day. Did anybody get the actual American Girl magazine, not just the catalogue? Oh I loved that. So much better than Hannah Montana. Yeah I said it.
Before I begin, please notice the sleeves of Silly Bandz going up and down both of Sydney's arms. I had nothing to do with that. So, Sydney is practicing reading and writing and ended up writing a book in the process. She wrote it herself and illustrated it herself. She calls it "Happy Day," and it is a compelling narrative about a girl who loses her toys and then finds them. Meriahna has one on the way about bullying. I'm pretty sure Pulitzer Prizes are in the mail.
It's 6:13 am, and I am currently arriving into Augusta. But Rachel, you say, I thought you were leaving Augusta today. Well, I say, that's absolutely correct. I just sat on the plane for an hour only to hear that we have a pressure problem, and this airport is so tiny that they have to call a local mechanic from the nearest town to fix the plane, and they don't think he'll be up this early, so it might take awhile. So yes, I just walked back into the Augusta airport.
They just came on the intercom and said that there are no seats on any flights out of Augusta until 6:30 tonight. Well then I'll have plenty of time for this post.
My visit with Johnny was absolutely wonderful. I feel like I don't mention him enough here, so I'm happy to report that he is alive and well. He has a cute little hotel room where he lives with his computer all set up, and he gets up early every morning to go to PT and then to class. That's where he is right now. He's relatively content.
Augusta is a whole different story. When we got in the car this morning at 4:30, it was 85 degrees. It's been over 100 degrees every day that I was here. My dad's friend described Augusta as a 'God-forsaken place full of whore houses' and something about liquor. I don't know if I would go that far, but it's definitely desolate. It's just dry and hot and big. They have a nice Jo-Ann's, though.
The next count down begins. 23 days.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
It's art week! This week has been spent focusing on the finer things in life. On Monday, we went to Kaleidoscope. This amazingly wonderful free arts and crafts place run by Hallmark. They basically send all of their extra paper to this place so that kids can do crafts with it.
The girls made crowns and glasses and puzzles and all kinds of stuff. Not as cool as The Please Touch Museum, but it'll do.
After Kaleidoscope, we spent another day at the Nelson Atkins Museum of Art. The highlight of the trip was definitely the mummy, or the mommy as Meriahna called it. The girls went to look at the thing four separate times in our two hour trip. They found it so cool and creepy.
When I was little, my mom would take us to the museum, and we would each get to buy one postcard with a painting or sculpture on it. Then we would go around the museum and try to find our piece of art. Sydney picked out this picture and was able to find it all by herself. She said her favorite part about her picture was the trees because they give us air. Yes, yes they do.
Here's Meriahna with her fruit buffet. She and Syd were talking in the car afterward, and she said that she loved looking at the paintings because they came to life in her mind, and she felt like she was inside of them. Yeah, um she's nine. Art teacher on our hands perhaps?
Classic. Contemplating life's difficulties. Meriahna was very moved throughout the whole tour by all the artwork portraying Jesus on the cross. She just couldn't comprehend why people would do that to such a "good guy." It was very interesting to see her begin to grapple with her beliefs. Sydney, on the other hand, was thinking about going to Subway for lunch....And you may notice that they both have on jean shorts under their skirts. I told them it might be cold in the museum, and they should bring a sweater. They decided to wear two t-shirts and jean shorts under their skirts in case they got cold. They were nice and cozy.
This pretty much sums up our weekend. It's been almost 100 degrees the last two days. Austin had a baseball game on Saturday morning followed by Syd's t-ball game followed by a softball game for Meriahna.
This was Sydney's first t-ball game. She did an excellent job hitting the ball off of the tee and standing in her ready position that her dad and brother taught her. She also ran to the ball every once in awhile when it came toward her. By the end of the game, though, she was singing to herself and dancing around her little spot in the outfield. Sigh, I've trained her so well.
Saturday morning we had an American Girl tea party at Starbucks with Sarah and Katie. The girls did the dolls' hair and our hair while wearing the pajamas that I made them. Yes I'm that obnoxious person who brings kids to a public place and lets them take it over. We had numerous elderly people smiling, however, and asking when they could get a hair appointment. Oh yeah and Sydney spilled her entire hot chocolate all over the floor; we are those people as well.
And for my one day off this week, the fam and I went to visit Jessie at her apartment in Lawrence. It's a cool old house; she shares the first floor with her friend, Natalie. Notice how Johnny and my apartment could fit inside of her dining room. She does realize that she'll have to get used to living in more of a closet-sized room once she moves to Brooklyn in a month. Alex walked around Lawrence with us today, and he and Jessie decided that we need to make English family t-shirts. Any ideas?
What a week. I find myself saying that at the end of every week these days. Johnny is still gone down in Georgia and will be there for a lot longer. Meriahna did a volleyball camp this week as you can see in the action shot that Sydney took of her running around the gym. We barely made it through the four days, but her arms are finally healing from getting beaten with volleyballs.
This week was also my birthday. It is definitely hard to get used to birthdays as an adult. You find yourself counting your facebook posts, sad because they aren't nearly as numerous as your freshman year of college. But Johnny, his family, and my family did an excellent job of making me feel loved on my 23rd birthday.
The Adams always do balloons and some kind of cake for me. I lucked out this year because there's a new cupcake place in town, and Melissa brought me three cupcakes...which were promptly scarfed down by Austin and Meriahna. I managed to sneak one out and eat it. Heaven.
Silly Bandz, which I'm sure you know, are all the rage with the crazy kids these days. Sydney loves hers and photographs them often. Even my high schoolers had them. We went to the orthodontist this week, and yes, even the orthodontist had some to offer to Meriahna and Syd. A cowboy boot and a hot dog.
So later on in the week, Meriahna, Sydney, and I went to go get our nails done. The girls got manicures, and I got a pedicure. This smile never came off of Meriahna's face the whole time. She was very thankful, saying "Thank you Rachel! I'm so happy!" numerous times. It was nice to be thanked even though it wasn't my money!
The finished product. It came off about a day later because we went swimming, played with chalk, etc.
Next, the biggest little thing to hit Leawood since Town Center is Peach Wave. It's self serve fro-yo. I've gone with my fam and with the Adams. We LOVE it. Mitchell usually puts about six candy bars worth of candy on top of his yogurt. I usually follow that up with the classic, "You want some frozen yogurt with that candy bar?" Gets 'em every time....Ah I'm turning into my dad.
And to end the week on a strong note, we decided to have a lemonade stand. We went to the grocery store and got a whole bunch of lemons. I must not have communicated the fact that the lemons were indeed for the lemonade because when we got home, Sydney went straight to the pantry and got out the Crystal Light Lemon Drink mix.
Hard at work squeezing the lemons. The girls squeezed them all themselves. There was a lot of team work going on. Gotta love it.
Because of this picture, Meriahna had lemon pulp in her hair the rest of the day.
So here's how the lemonade stand went down. We made signs and named our stand, "The Lemon Tree." Meriahna and Sydney created the motto, Great Lemonade at a Great Price, or something along those lines. The girls piled into the wagon, and I dragged all of us up to the top of the hill where there would be the most cars. The wagon has gotten much heavier over the years. As the heat wore on and no one was stopping, Meriahna decided that we need a plan for how to get people to stop. The plan consisted of Meriahna going further down the street to act as a look out for cars. When she saw one, she would yell, "Wake up and smell the coffee!" to Sydney who would then start doing cartwheels down the sidewalk to get people to stop. It worked pretty well. Our first customer was a blonde girl named Taylor. Sydney is still convinced that it was Taylor Swift. "No seriously guys." Katie came to the stand, and when we told her about Taylor, she asked if Justin Bieber came by as well. Sydney just rolled her eyes like that was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard.
Volleyball, birthday, and lemonade. Not a bad week. Johnny, I get to see you in six days!
Friday was our big Worlds of Fun day! For those of you who aren't in the know, Worlds of Fun is Kansas City's big amusement park. We go every year, but this was the first time it was just the four of us instead of a big group, so we had a lot of fun. Here's our day!
Group photo at the entrance to the park!
Where Syd had to stand for a lot of rides because she's not 48 inches. She was a good sport, though. She's brave, but I don't think she has the fearlessness of her sister who went with me on the Tower of Terror in Disney Land when she was six.
The Red Baron in Snoopy Land. The lady who ran this ride took literally ten minutes to get it moving. She checked each kid, which was a good thing, but she kept moving them around to different seats for no apparent reason, and then kids would get bored and would get off, and then she'd move kids to those new seats. The ride itself only lasted about 30 seconds. Mers and Syd seemed to like it, though.
My favorite quote from Sydney for the day: When she got off of the Red Baron, she looked at me and said, "I just really want to hug Snoopy. That's what I really want to do!" So we hugged Snoopy and Sally and Charlie Brown. I always have a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach when I see people I know hugging characters. We spend kids' entire lives telling them not to talk to strangers, not to go with strangers, etc. Yet, we let them run up and hug random people in giant, creepy, costumes. There is something wrong with that, America.
This is my favorite area of Worlds of Fun. They created this giant room that's full of foam balls, ball vacuums, ball guns, ball everything. Kids can go around the room and collect the balls, load them in guns, and shoot them at people around the room. It's nice and cool in there, so we usually end up in there for at least 45 minutes on any given trip. The kids spent the whole time trying to find a gun that would shoot me in the spot where I was sitting.
The Viking Voyager! We didn't get very wet, but Sydney freaked out after we got off the ride. The final plunge scared her. She was able to cowgirl up and forage on.
And get her face painted! While Mers and I were on the Timberwolf, Austin took Sydney to get her face painted like a swan princess. Beautiful. It only took a few hours to get itchy and be wiped off.
So cute. Eating something like $15 worth of Dippin' Dots.
A perfect picture of each of them. Sydney: "Look at me!" Meriahna: "Goofball" Austin: "Why am I here?"
After we left, we drove home to their house, and guess the first thing they wanted to do when they got home? Read! Love that reading chart.
This summer has been a blast so far. I'm back in the saddle again, babysitting for the Adams family. This is my fourth summer with them, and it's proving to be the most entertaining yet. After babysitting them for a little while, I kind of thought that all children were funny, but I've realized over the years that these kids are definitely unique in their ability to make a regular situation hysterical. Here's a little documentary of how we spend our days.
A lot of changes have been going on in their house, so we've been doing a lot of purging. Austin and I decided to go through his room and clean out anything that he didn't use anymore. About a thousand Pokemon cards and McDonald's toys later, Austin and I filled up the entire trunk of my car with bags of stuff to donate. We took it all to the Church of the Resurrection garage sale and then got him a grape slushie from Sonic and me a cherry limeaid from Winstead's. A beautiful day it was.
The big new addition to our regular summer activities is the Adams' Reading Chart. Now, of course, I am an English teacher, and I've seen how kids can fall behind in school because of lack of learning during the summer. Supernanny style, I created a reading chart where each kid receives one sticker for every ten minutes that he or she reads. There are different prizes for different goals, prizes which they helped me pick. Five stickers is a cool pencil; thirty stickers is a video game, etc. I did very little to promote this reading thing other than to put the chart out and let them pick the prizes. You may notice that Austin has something like 36 stickers on his chart in this picture. This was two days after we started the chart. These kids have become reading fools. I had no idea that the promise of a pencil would shut off the t.v. and video games for a week. Even Sydney is looking at books and making up stories, pretending to read. I highly recommend this method to anyone trying to get kids to read. Meriahna actually begged me today to give her an extra ten minutes to read her book...how can you say no?
One thing that's really important to me when I'm with them is to have family dinners. They usually help me make the dinner in some way. Tonight, Meriahna, the nine year old, helped me make beef stew. She used a big knife and cut up all the vegetables. And because she helped make it, she was much more willing to eat the new food. One thing that we always do around the dinner table is say the best part of our day and the worst part of our day. The kids always say nice things like, "The best part of my day was making stew with Rachel." But thanks to Sydney, after you say the best and worst part of your day, you have to make up a fake one. So tonight, the best part of Sydney's day was when she jumped off a cliff, and the worst part was when she had an alligator in her hand, and it ate her as she was falling off the cliff. And so it goes.
Today was also a big day in the English household. My baby brother turned 14. It's difficult to see in this picture, but he's walking around the house collecting presents from the birthday string. For every one of our birthdays growing up, my dad would string some string all over the house, and your presents would be placed along the string. You follow the string and pick up your presents. I plan to have the birthday string for my 23rd birthday on Tuesday. Mitchell is clearly very excited to be collecting his presents on his 14th birthday string. It's very odd seeing him as a teenager with the deep voice and his 5'5"ness. I remember holding him when he was only 2 hours old. Sigh. I guess growing up is a good thing.
This post is long, and it's still in the revision stage, but I wrote a little short story documenting my trip from Philadelphia to Kansas. Enjoy!
Johnny shipped out for Georgia yesterday, and I have a 7:05 AM flight from Philly to Kansas City this morning. I had it all figured out. I was going to get up around 4:45, leave for suburban station at 5, get on the 5:30 train to the airport and be there at 5:50. Golden. I set two alarms last night as usual. One on my phone and the other on the tick tock clock we have on our bedside table. I stayed up late last night because not only am I going to be gone from the apartment for a month and a half, but we have some friends coming to stay in it, so I couldn’t leave it messy. I leave a few dishes in the sink to take care of in the morning, talk to Johnny on the phone, and then fall asleep.
I wake up to my phone sounding the alarm. I roll out of bed, thinking to myself, “I can’t believe I used to get up at this time on a daily basis.” I quickly go through the motions of what I know needs to be done this morning. The tick tock clock catches my eye and makes me stop what I’m doing. This clock says that it is not 4:45, but it is in fact 2:30. I look at it again and realize that the batteries stopped working during the night. I breathe a sigh of relief that I always set two alarm clocks and continue on my merry way. I open the door of our bedroom and furtively look around because I had locked a fly out their last night, and I am hoping that he doesn’t charge at me in anger. No fly. I quickly clean up the few things that I left to finish, except quickly doesn’t happen as quickly as I would like it to. By the time I look at the time again, it’s five after five, and I’m already late. I struggle to get my four bags through the three doors, turn off all the lights, and take one final look around the apartment. I think I’m set.
After I’m out the doors and on the sidewalk, I take a look at Johnny’s J. Press watch that I decided to wear for the trip. It’s ten after, and I know I can’t get to Suburban Station quickly enough, especially with all my bags. I decide to briskly walk to 20th street and hail a cab. I see one stopped and flag him down. My heart drops as out of the driver’s side door hops my arch nemesis, the Society Hill Cabbie. Sometimes when I babysit late at night, I will take a cab home from society hill. I have gotten the same cab driver at least two or three times, and he never ever takes me where I want to go. I always tell him 20th and Locust, and without fail, he will always speed right through 20th street while I’m screaming for him to just let me out anywhere. I’m serious about this. You can ask my husband.
Anyway, I think to myself, “I’m not going that far, it will be fine.” He throws my luggage in the trunk, and I slip into the back seat. He hops back in, and I say, “Suburban Station please.”
He responds, “Uh 30th Street Station?”
“No,” I say. “Suburban Station.”
“Where is that?”
Dramatic pause. Now before I continue, for you non Philadelphians out there, Suburban Station is huge. All of the trains running in and out of Philadelphia go through there. Johnny goes there every morning to get to work. Any cab driver worth his salt should know where this train mecca is.
I take a deep gulp of air and say, “Well, I believe it’s around Market and 18th.”
“Ok, so I’ll just continue here on 18th?” (We’re on 20th street.)
“No, um, just go up here to Market and turn right.”
“Turn right on the market?”
“Yeah, Market Street.”
I’m breathing deeply and praying that I get to the station in enough time to meet my train. I should have listened to Molly last night at Pilates when she told me to leave earlier than I was planning on.
I remind him to turn right on Market street, and I start looking for Suburban Station. I’m used to going in and out of the subway stations around City Hall, so I’m not as familiar with all the entrances to Suburban. We pass 18th, and it’s not there. “Shoot,” I think to myself. I frantically call Johnny since I wasn’t sure of the intersection.
5:15 AM
Ring, pause pause, ring, pause, pause. Come on Johnny pick up.
“Hello?”
Johnny’s voice, heavy with sleep, gives me some comfort in what is becoming a frustrating morning.
“Hi. What’s the intersection of Suburban Station?”
Groggle groggle. “Umm.”
“Johnny! What’s the intersection?!”
Silence. “Umm.”
We get to 16th and I see it out of the corner of my eye.
“Nevermind!” click.
I tell my buddy the cab driver to pull in by the lights. I pull out my six dollars, and he pulls out my bags. We make the exchange, and I start walking to the doors. Yes, you guessed it. Locked. There is a 5:30 train, and the doors are locked. I look at Johnny’s watch. 5:17.
I decide to walk around the building to see if any of the other doors are open. All of the doors say to use the entrance on 16th and JFK which is where I was originally, so I start praying really hard. I follow a woman who also has a large bag, and we team up to try to get in the building. An older man sees us and apparently works in the building and says he can get us in. We follow him in, and he gets us on the elevator. We get to the bottom, step out of the elevator, and through a glass door, I can see that my train is loading. I grab for the door, and yes, it’s locked. We pound on it, and the people on the other side look at us like we’re crazy. It’s now 5:29. I get back on the elevator, mumbling about how I’ll just take a cab, and as the doors are closing, the lady gets the door open. I slam on the Door Open button and run through with her. Philadelphia transit is not known for their punctuality, but let me tell you, this morning, they were right on time. I missed it by a few seconds.
Sweating, I start to hurriedly look for the elevator up to the street. I find one and step out into the smothering humidity. I assume the “taxi-hailing” position and grab a red one. I grew up thinking that all taxis are yellow, but I have yet to see a yellow taxi in Philly. My driver pops out. I look him over to make sure that he’s not the Society Hill Cabbie, and with my fears assuaged, I sink into the back seat. We head to the airport. My driver seems to think that he’s in the Indy 500 and proceeds to weave in and out of the few trucks and minivans that inhabit the highway on Tuesday mornings. I don’t mind, though, because I’ve got a plane to catch, darn it. I’m smiling to myself, thinking that I just might make it, when a breath-stopping smell enters the car. Call it what you will, barking spider, butt burp, passing gas, but my cab driver was invading my personal space with his personal gas. “Seriously?” I ask God.
After some completely unnecessary hairpins turns on the otherwise empty trek to the airport, we pull up to terminal E, I pay the man, and we’re in business. I situate my backpack and throw my LL Bean bag (of course) on top of my high school graduation present luggage and tally ho through the clear glass doors.
My heart stops.
In all the flights I’ve taken to Florida and California and Chicago and yes, Philadelphia, never in my life have I seen a check in line as long as this one. Time check. 6:05. I grumble to myself and pull my possessions into line. I make friends with the older woman behind me who is on her way to visit her grandchildren. She laments her decision to bring so many presents. “I could have carried on!” she laughs.
A younger man a few people in front of me tries a few times to flag down the Southwest representative who seems to be running this whole circus.
“Excuse me, I have a 6:35 flight. Could I move up?”
The woman ignores him. When he finally gets her attention she forcefully denies his request. “Poor guy,” I think to myself, envisioning myself in the same position thirty minutes from now. There’s no way I’ll still be in line.
6:30 AM
I finally get through to the ticket counter. I jam my finger at the screen, grab my boarding pass, and wrench my luggage up on the scale. An error sign appears on the touch screen. Deep breaths. Apparently the luggage tag printer thingamajigger is jammed. I wait a moment as Nazi lady from before comes over and helps my lady get the tags on the luggage. Nazi lady passes me my luggage tabs, and says without feeling, “I can’t guarantee that you’ll make your flight; you’re late.”
“Gee really?” I think to myself. My friend from the line yells her good lucks to me as I run for the escalator. Every second counts. Since the ticket counter was going to slow, I assure myself that the security check can’t be too backed up.
As the steps of the escalator glide into the catch at the top, my head, then my neck, then my shoulders rise over the horizon of the second floor. Before me, a devastating scene. Person upon person. Stroller upon stroller. Bag upon bag. All feeding into only three security checkpoints. I make friends with another woman who is on my flight. I guard her spot in line, and she runs up to see if we have any hope of cutting. No dice. We chit chat with some other women, calming our frustration by bashing Southwest, Philadelphia, airports, and pretty much anything else we can think of.
I get to the driver’s license and ticket check at 6:59. “There’s no way,” I say out loud to anyone who is listening. I rip off my shoes, grab my liquids, untangle my laptop, and force everything through the x ray machine. I turn to go through the metal detector only to be thrown into another bottleneck. The people running the searches have no sense of urgency and are casually calling people through, stopping them, patting them down. I bounce on the balls of my feet, waiting my turn impatiently. I finally get through, seize my bag and my backpack, throw my lose belongings anywhere where they will fit, and with shoes in hand, I run full speed for gate E15 at the very end of a long, long hallway.
At this point I am reminded of every other time that I have run for some form of transportation. My friends and I used to cut it really close when we were going from Chicago to Wheaton. There were numerous times that I had to run, full speed, through snowy Chicago to make it to the Metra on time. I’ve run down subways steps and stumbled through turnstiles; I’ve run to bus stops as the sound of the lumbering Septa bus passes me by. I’ve run behind our car as Johnny drives away without realizing I’m trying to get in. You really would think I’d be in better shape by now.
So, as I’m pulling a Home Alone, running to gate E15 for my 7:05 flight with my shoes in my hand, there is only one thing I can think of: don’t slip. I pass gate after gate, lamenting the fact that my flight just had to be at the furthest gate away. I lose sight of the friend I had made in line. She is really fast in those socks. I’ve always known that I’m not that fast, but I kind of always thought that in a situation like this or if someone was chasing me, adrenaline would kick in, and I go all track star. I pass E7 and think to myself, “I’m in big trouble if anyone ever decides to chase me.”
My eyes scan the horizon, and to my pleasant surprise, a friendly Southwest agent is standing at the gate with the door open. He smiles at me and says, “Take a moment, catch your breath, and put on your shoes.” I’m so thankful; I breathe deeply and do what he says. Slipping on my Keens, I hand over my ticket and hurry down the tunnel into the plane.
While rushing down the tight space I can’t help but think of the Lost episode that I watched recently. Morbidly, I remember the overweight character named Hurley, running late through the Sydney airport, doing everything in his power to get on his flight to L.A. He begs the flight attendant to let him on the plane, and he gives her a giant hug when she agrees. Little does he know that his plane is going to crash in a few hours, and he’ll be on a deserted island with forty very attractive and resourceful people for six seasons. Unfortunately if I crashed, I would be marooned not in Hawaii but in Missouri. And so it goes.
Once seated, the plane’s captain kindly comes on the intercom system and explains that security is really backed up, and since we happen to have some extra time built in, we’re going to wait ten minutes for the people who have yet to appear. What a nice person.
I did not crash in Hawaii like on Lost. I got into Kansas City in perfect timing. Now let's hope my 5:45 AM flight from Georgia to Kansas City in two weeks goes a little better.
