Almost Middle Aged Friends + Musicals + Segways + the Windy City = Good Times

(Chicago at night from our hotel room window.  Lovely, no?)

So I spent my Mother's Day weekend in Chicago . . . and not in the bosom of my loving family (felt a little guilty about that, but got over it, and now wonder if I ought to feel guilty about getting over it?).  Instead, my family gave me the gift of taking off with Sally and Michelle--dearest of dear friends from way back in my mom-of-little-kids days in Minnesota.  In the past we've gone to Vegas (how many years ago was that?  Sally would know.  She has a filing cabinet for a brain.  I think it was 8 years ago??), to Los Angeles (that was in 2004?), and twice now, Michelle has come from Minnesota to Utah to visit me and Sally, since Sally's living in Zion again as well.

But I've got to say, I think Chicago was our best trip yet.  Vegas is so Vegas-y.  Didn't help that when we went we stayed at the IMPERIAL PALACE (why was no one advising us of such things?).  L.A. was fun, but it's a sprawling city, and we spent a lot of time running from place to place.  I felt like we had a great pace in Chicago, though--the right amount of stuff to do to keep us entertained, but leisurely enough that we could kick back and watch movies in our hotel room all night if we wanted.  Which we did do, Sunday night.

But I'm getting ahead of myself!  Let me begin at the beginning:

First, photos, to remind you of the players in this narrative:

Michelle and Sally

Michelle and Me

Sally and Me.  The yellow vests will be explained shortly.  Just you wait!

On Friday I woke up early, drove to the airport, nervously used the off-site parking Forrest uses all the time but managed to make it through the process myself without looking like a noob. I think. Met Sally at the gate, then proceeded to talk talk talk the entire way to Chicago.  It was a small commuter plane and I think we were the only people talking the whole entire flight.  We tried to keep our voices at a low conversational murmur, though. Tried.

Went to the hotel--Embassy Suites near Navy Pier.  Really nice place, hilarious check in lady who noticed that we had one king bed then debated whether or not it would be offensive to ask us if we would prefer two doubles, then decided that we "looked like the kinds of girls who would prefer two doubles. Ha, ha, ha!!!"  What, was it our wedding rings that looked to have been purchased in the early 90s even though we're both in our mid-to-late 30s?  My poofy Utah hair?  (I try not to have poofy Utah hair, but can't seem to help it.  Especially in Chicago.  I kept saying that I had Lion Hair.  I think it was the humidity. Oh, and my hair's not dark anymore.  Went blonde again.  Anyway.)  

Michelle finally joined us--she'd been driving from MN--and we decided to embark on our first culinary adventure.  Now, we'd intended to eat GREAT in Chicago.  I mean, if you can't find good restaurants in Chicago then you're a sorry fan of Bravo's Top Chef indeed.  So the first recommendation was for a place that makes the "best" deep dish Chicago style pizza around.  Gino's East "the Original" it was called.  So Michelle googled it and we traipsed off to find a taxi.  When we told the driver the address he looked at us like we were mildly bonkers, but then took off anyway.  After a while, it became clear that the Gino's East location was not all that close to our hotel, and after a $20 cab ride he deposited us in front of a tiny little hole in the wall with maybe six or seven tables.  Salad was iceberg lettuce with a plastic container full of ranch dressing.  The Diet Coke was delivered warm, in the can, with a styrofoam cup full of ice.  And the pizza was kinda ick.  Too gloppy.  Although I've got to say that I probably wouldn't like Chicago style pizza much no matter where I got it: I'm more a thin crust, sun-dried-tomatoes-and-artichokes kind of girl.  So we finished our meal, took our $20 cab ride home, and had a good laugh in the mean time, especially once we learned that Michelle had received the recommendation from her son's 13-year-old Facebook friend and that there were scads of Original Gino's East the Originals all over Chicago.

We also went and saw a really good movie.  City Island.  None of us had heard anything about it, but it had a pretty good score on Rotten Tomatoes so we thought we'd give it a chance.  And it was so good!  Nothing like walking into a movie with low expectations and being pleasantly surprised.  Juliana Margeulise (how the heck do you spell that???/), Andy Garcia, some hottie young actor guy (forget his name, but Michelle googled him when we got home, so I'm sure she remembers :-).  Michelle was our resident googler.)

For Saturday night, our plan was to go to Rick Bayless's restaurant Frontera Grill.  As any big fan of Top Chef knows, Bayless is AWESOME, so I really really really wanted to go to his restaurant.  It has weird hours, though, and very limited reservations.  I tried about a month out but they were already taken.  So since it opened at 5:00 for dinner, we got there right at 5 on the spot, but by the time we got to the front of the line, the wait time was already two and a half hours! So, with great sadness, we left Frontera Grill and went searching for another restaurant that was near the Oriental Theater, since we had tickets to see the musical Billy Elliot.

We finally agreed on a seafood restaurant (can't remember the name), and it was okay, nothing great.  Harumph.  But then!  Then we got to go see Billy Elliot!

Outside the theater, looking a little bit gussified.  The guy who we asked to this picture looked completely discombobulated.  It was like we'd asked him to name the capitols of a bunch of Eastern European countries. No stress, dude!  Just point and click!  The photo turned out pretty good, actually, so I suppose I'm glad for his intense concern over the process. 

Sally and Michelle inside the theater.  Isn't it purdy?  And aren't they purdy too?

Billy Elliot is a new-ish musical based on the movie of the same name that came out a few years ago.  Elton John wrote the music.  I didn't know much about the plot, other than it involved a working class British boy who just "wanted to dance!!!"--and I knew that Chicago's production had received strong reviews. So I went in without knowing quite what to expect--but it was fabulous.  The story was strong, the acting was top-notch, but best of all, there was DANCING.  And I love dancing.  Even better, there was dancing by adolescent dancing prodigies, and it's always fun to watch kids who are amazingly talented, isn't it?  It reaffirms your faith in the world, the potential of the individual human being.  Or something.  The kid who played Billy was the original Billy on Broadway, and it showed.  Loved every minute of it.

So the next morning, after another leisurely bout of sleeping in (ah, bliss), we had our Embassy Suites Cooked to Order Breakfast then headed out for Navy Pier.  We'd decided on the spur of the moment to book a Segway tour of the city, even though we KNEW we were paying good money to look like total dorks.  But if three almost-middle-aged mothers of teenagers can't look like dorks, then who can?  So, we rose to the occasion.  Here's some photographic proof:

 Helmeted up, ready to go.  Lovely, aren't we?

Our first big photo op.  The Segway itself took a little getting used to, and we were all a tiny bit nervous at first.  Don't want to topple into Lake Michigan, after all.  And isn't Lake Michigan lovely? The color of the water isn't even photoshopped.

After a while I got the hang of operating the Segway and started doing dare-devilish things like taking pictures WHILE I was driving (probably a no no, but I count it as evidence of my athletic skill.)

Yes, here we are, Segwaying through million dollar neighborhoods

And again, Segwaying in the midst of Chicago traffic.  I'm sure everybody was honking at us because we were so good looking and athletic-seeming.  Anyway, it was a blast, and I'm glad we put our pride aside and did it.  It will certainly be one of the more memorable aspects of the trip.

Our last day of the trip, Michelle had to scoot out of there early so she could go see an old friend and get on the road back home.  We were sad to see her go.  But then Sally and I had a few hours to kill before heading back on the L (you know, the elevated train?) to the airport, so we went to the newish Millennium Park and took a nice stroll along Michigan Ave.  Talk about beautiful.  I love, love, love cities, and the architecture in Chicago is so varied and interesting.  Here are some pics of the morning:

Me in front of the famous Bean sculpture in the park.

Sally and me taking pictures of ourselves in the reflective surface of the famous Bean statue.  Note the guy with the "what are those two doing?" expression.

Sally and me standing in front of the Bean sculpture.  Note that the guy who was wondering what in the world we were up to in the previous photo is the same one taking our picture.  He offered.  Very nice.

Here are a few other shots of cool things in the city:

Sally in front of the amphitheater in Millennium park.  There's a nice wide lawn behind it.  I'm sure it's an amazing place to see a concert. 

Pretty tulips in the garden

Pretty Sally in the garden.

The short building is the library.  Isn't it gorgeous?  And we're pretty sure the tall building with the slanty ceiling is the one the kids slid down in the masterpiece of 80s film making, Adventures in Babysitting.

The Chicago Tribune building.  Just because it's really cool looking.  And because I tried to imagine just for a minute what it would be like to work there every day.  (Not that I would really want to be a journalist.  But it was still fun to think about.)

Me in front of the river, looking Lion Hair-ish.

It was a wonderful trip.  I feel so blessed to have such good friends.  No matter how much time we're apart, whenever we get together it's like no time has passed.  I hope we'll still be going on trips like these twenty years from now.

And thank you, thank you, THANK YOU to my wonderful husband and amazing kids for being so great while I was gone.  I came home to done laundry, clean rooms, and lots of hugs and smiles.  And belated Mother's Day cards.  Knowing I have all of you to come home to makes trips like this even sweeter.

So, Yesterday

I guess if I get a good Monday then I have to balance it out w/ a bad one.  Yesterday my purse got stolen out of my car in Zupas' parking lot.  While I was enjoying a nice bowl of Chicken Enchilada Chili with my dear husband and darling son, some child of God decided to swipe my bag, which contained my planner, address book, credit cards, checkbook, $5 in cash (I'm big time), $30 on Kohl's cash (almost spent it on Saturday--dang!!), an almost-full Cafe Rio punchard, a $10 JCPenney coupon, my library cards, zoo membership cards, insurance cards, precious pictures of my children and the Best Ever Babe Picture of Forrest from 1992 (irreplaceable, and I don't have another copy!), and, yes, my social security card.   I know.  I've been telling myself for YEARS that I need to take my social security card out of my wallet.  I KNOW.

Nobody broke into the car, but I'm pretty sure I accidentally left it open because Forrest and I pulled up in different cars and Wyatt was winging around the parking lot, which made me nervous, so there's a good chance I forgot to hit the lock button.  And, since my Best Ever Babe Husband was buying, I left my purse in the car.  Luckily, at the last second I grabbed my new phone from its little cubbyhole in the dashboard and put it in my pocket, or else that would have been swiped too, I'm sure.  So, bright side: didn't lose my phone, only lost $5 in cash, and my temple recommend was still in my temple bag, so I don't have to go through the rigmarole of replacing it.   Not so bright side: spent the day at the DMV & the bank getting things worked out and replaced, put a call in to the credit reporting agencies since my SS# was compromised, called in a police report just in case, I have to buy a new purse and a new wallet (I've been using the same leather Franklin Day Planner as my wallet since, I think, 1996), and on and on.  And I'm leaving to spend the weekend in Chicago w/ my girls, Sally and Michelle (which is good news!), but hopefully my temporary drivers license and new cards won't cause me any trouble getting on the plane or paying for stuff.  Shouldn't, right?

Sigh.

So, Today

was actually a lovely, quiet day.

-Took the kids to a "new" park, meaning a park with pretty much the same equipment as every other park in Salt Lake County, but in a different location.   This was Kids Off Track Idea #2.  Already did Kids Off Track Idea #1 when I took them to see Alvin and the Chipmunks: The Squeakquel at the dollar movie last Friday.  We sat in the back and I read bloggernacle blogs and articles on Slate and EW.com on my phone the whole time.  Four dollars well spent!  Anyway, today was sunny, but a little chillier than I thought it would be--yet the birds were tweeting and the clouds were puffy and I'm continually amazed at how such things affect my mood for the better.  And we had a nice time at the park.

-Went on a run/walk instead of going to the gym.  First, because the big kids are home and it's so much quicker to go on a run/walk.  Second, because of the aforementioned bird tweetiness and cloud puffiness, I wanted to be outside.  Third, because as much as I'm still wanting to exercise, every time I think about going to a Lifetime class and pushing myself to the limit and waking up sore in the morning I get all lazy inside and before I know it, I've talked myself into believing that my run/walks are just as efficacious as 75 minutes of hot yoga taught by Kasey the Scary Wonder Trainer.  Ummm . . . 35 minutes of random jogging interspersed with brisk walking is NOT the same thing, self.  Oh, but the other reason I wanted to run/walk is because then I get to listen to . . .

-My new audio book.  Game Change: Obama and the Clintons, McCain and Palin, and the Race of a Lifetime.  Sooooo interesting.  Yes, yes, I realize this is coming from a girl who still mourns Tim Russert as the host of Meet the Press, and that some of you might find such topics as interesting as I find a quartet of washed-up athletes yelling at each other about some basketball player whose mother thought it'd be a great idea to christen her son Carmelo, which, to me, is the name of a delicious Hershey's candy.  Anyway--not only does this book rehash some of the stories we all know about the 2008 campaign--a campaign full of so much drama that it seems like the writers of The West Wing dreamed it up--but there are all sorts of gossipy little tidbits that appeal to my weaker nature.  Like Elizabeth Edwards?  Scary shrew.  Yes, I know she has cancer, and yes, she's been completely dumped on by her dork of a husband.  But still a scary shrew.  John Edwards?  So deep in Denialville, if he'd been a fictional character he'd be completely unbelievable.  Hillary Clinton? A lot more complicated than you'd think, both surprisingly nice and surprisingly ruthless, if that makes sense.  Mitt Romney?  Nobody likes him.  Nobody!!  Bill Clinton?  Still slick, still smart, still dumb, still messing around, still reaaaaaaalllly cares what everybody thinks about him.  John McCain?  King Potty Mouth.  (Seriously: potty mouth warning once you get to the McCain part of the book.)  Also: mean to his wife.  Also: history of messing around that had the campaign all jittery, along with Cindy's history of messing around.  Which is maybe why they're mean to each other?  And my boyfriend Barack Obama?  (I say this just to get a rise out of the people I know this will get a rise out of, of course :-).  He is what everybody says he is:  smart, self-possessed, cocky, loves his wife & kids, extremely ambitious, likes to get lots of opinions before he makes a decision, and the beneficiary of some good strategy but a whole lotta luck as well.  I've just barely gotten to the part of the narrative where Sarah Palin is brought on board and I can't wait.  I keep cleaning the house and exercising just so I can keep listening to my audiobook in good conscience.

-I also wrote for an hour and a half straight today.  Doesn't sound like much, I know, but to be able to carve out an hour and a half of quiet and get a good half-dozen pages written for my new novel during an off-track day?  That's a good thing.  I'm liking this new novel, but I'm still so early on that who knows the damage I'll inflict upon the thing in the coming months.

-Gearing up for Spring semester to start tomorrow.  As of right now, I have 6 students enrolled, so looks like the class might carry.  Part of me is glad (the money always comes in handy), part of me is nervous (teaching Tuesday nights AND Thursday nights during baseball/flag football/Forrest-traveling-heavily season is going to be  quite a juggling act).  I've also never taught a condensed term schedule, which basically leaves my students with half the time to produce something half-way decent.  Should be interesting, to say the least.

And now Wyatt is asleep on the couch next to me, snoring away.  He's such a Bubba.  Time to wrestle him out of his pants and into his jammies, tuck him into bed, wrangle the big kids into theirs, load the dishwasher, put away the whites, finish my New Yorker article on the ordination of female bishops in the Church of England (don't ask me why it's interesting--just is), randomly open my Book of Mormon and read a dozen verses (my method of late, no judging please), put the cat in the basement so she doesn't wake me up at 3 a.m. to go out and again at 6 a.m. to come in (I put her in the storage room with food and water, no judging please), and then go to sleep.  With the window open.  Don't you love sleeping with the window open on a nice spring night?  I do.

Because Writers Don't Get Nearly as Much Attention as Jocks

. . . especially when you're 13.

So as the mother of a 13 year old writer, I'm going to post a little bit of Ethan's English homework from last night.  Ethan typed this bad boy up in about 10 minutes, and when he showed it to me, I told him it was blog-worthy.  Here goes, presented to you with absolutely no editing or tweaking by mom:

The Calamitous Chronicle of Carl the Caterpillar

               Carl the caterpillar was a very small and meek little insect.  All the other bugs at Thorax Prep were so much bigger, stronger, faster, or more all around impressive than Carl.  Every day Carl was chosen last at slime toss, even after Arty Ant, who had four broken legs.  And every day Carl sat alone at the designated pariah table in the cafeteria.  And every day Carl got picked on by Tito Tarantula, the burly, surly, naturally curly jerk of an arachnid.  And every day Carl came home to a milkweed-holic dad who was generally passed out in front of the TV with a worn out Playbug magazine on his lap.  [editor's note:  Ethan thought he might have to change this line for Grandma's sake.  He said, "I can imagine Grandma reading that and going, 'Ooooh, Ethan,' all disappointed."  So I figured, as his mother, that his worry over his grandmother's reaction cancels out any of the perceived negatives of using the term "Playbug."  Especially since it is such a perfect little joke, in context.  Anyhow, carrying on.]

            But Carl hadn’t lost all hope in life.  He knew that one day he was destined to sprout beautiful wings and flitter about, above all of the other bugs, above his house, and way over Tito.  That was the only thing that kept Carl form committing pesticide.  So every day, Carl worked through school, giving his grub money to Tito, being teased by his bigger and more impressive schoolmates.  But with his wonderful destiny in mind, Carl scooted around with his head a little higher, put up with Tito more, and even the pariah table was nicer.  His dad was even starting to pay his mortgage on their burrow and quitting milkweed.  So things were looking up for Carl.

            When Carl turned 13 (weeks old) he began to build his cocoon.  His incredibly small heart pounded with excitement as he awaited his emergence form his fleshy capsule as a wonderful creature.  Pretty soon the wait became too much to bear, and he was brimming with excitement and optimism.  After a week, the day had come.  Carl burst forth from his green womb as a majestic monarch butterfly, wing patterns the color of molten bronze and night black, and beautifully smooth antennae and a slender proboscis.  He flew all over town until it was time for school.  He came to school bright and happy, and everyone admired his new features.  After lunch at the socially accepted table with his new friend Bernie the Bumblebee, he even had the pride to stand up to Tito when pressed for money.  But Tito didn’t like that at all.  So Tito quickly wrapped up Carl in a silvery and deadly web, lowered his mandibles, and promptly sucked out graceful Carl’s juices with a loudly audible slurp.

                                                            THE END


Witty, original, and an ironic twist ending.  What more could an English teacher want?

I looked out the window . . .

and what did I see?

It's been beautiful the last couple of days.  And isn't spring in the air kind of like a shot of adrenaline? It's been lovely to open the windows, let in the freshness, wear short sleeves, take Wyatt to the park.

And there have been some other Spring Things going on.  First big Spring Thing?  The Salt Lake City Marathon!  I didn't get to go see Forrest's first full marathon down in Mesquite, but Saturday was a blue-sky 70 degree day--the perfect day to stand on the side of the road and think, "Is that him?  No.  Is that him?  Maybe?  No.  Hey!  Look!  I think . . . "

" . . . is that the guy?  White visor, long stride, sexy legs? . . ."

"It is!  Run, Forrest, run!"

I'm always relieved when I catch my first glimpse of Forrest during a long race.  I don't know what I think might happen (dramatic collapses, pulled hammies, emotional breakdowns?) but he always comes jogging or biking past with a smile on his face and a little wave.  I met him here a little past mile 23, and for Forrest (and lots of people, I'm sure), mile 20 to 24 or so are the worst.  He told me later that he was having a little fantasy that he'd find me and say, "Hey babe, where'd you park?" and we'd just trot on over to my car and call it a day.  But when I asked him how he was doing he said, "Okay," and when I noted that he had 15 minutes to get there in under 4 hours, his original goal, I thought I'd try and be encouraging and say, "You can do it!  You can kick it!" and he looked at me with calm matter-of-factness and said, "No I can't."  (And, yeah, three miles, uphill on State Street, at the end of a 26 mile run?  Ummm, not gonna happen.)  As he tells it, he felt great up until mile 20, but then he was just out of gas: weak, and really hungry.  He ran past a Taco Time and had another fantasy that he could run into the restaurant and beg them to give him a taco even though he didn't have any money.  He'd give them his iPod for collateral.  He didn't, of course, but we did swing past the Taco Time on the way home and get a crisp meat burrito.  He came home and ate two bites. :-)

He ended up running it in 4:10, a few minutes slower than the marathon in Mesquite.  He was a little disappointed not to make it in under 4:00, but he still came in in the top 1/3 of all the marathon runners that day (300-something out of 1,000).  I thought he did awesome.  Whenever I'd look at the route, in fact, it'd make me just a little sick to my stomach at the DISTANCE involved.  Twenty-six miles is a heckuva long way to hoof it.

Anybody familiar w/ SLC can look at this map and realize how far this is. These people START running at the University of Utah, run all the way to 6200 South and I-215, run all the way down Van Winkle, then head back into Salt Lake City to the Gateway.  Anyway, I have a tremendous amount of respect for anybody who does it, and a ton of pride in my amazing better half and all he's able to accomplish.  Here he is coming in for the finish:

And now he's done marathon-ing, at least for a while, and in May, the triathlon-ing starts back up.  I wonder for how many years I'll be taking pictures of Forrest in his running clothes crossing a finish line?  (Many years, I hope.)

Another now-ubiquitous Spring Thing is baseball.  Ethan opted not to play this year (flag football instead--coming up soon!), so it's just Jonas.  Forrest is assistant coaching the team, the coach is great, and there's lots of nice kids . . . but so far they're 0 for 3, and kind of Bad News Bears-ing it.  They had a game tonight, and although they had a little rally in the middle, they still ended up getting pretty much creamed.  Last game, though, Jonas got a hit, threw a kid out at 3rd base, and scored a run, and ended up with the game ball.

I mostly like baseball cause I think he looks so dang handsome in his baseball clothes.

Here he is with his, "That was a ball, right ump?" expression:

(It was.)

And now Winter semester is wrapping up for me (grades due this week), but it looks like my Spring term class might carry, which means Tuesday AND Thursday nights.  Between teaching, Forrest's traveling, Webelos, and the kids' homework and extracurriculars, it's going to be busy nights at the Hallstrom House this Spring.

And in closing, two observations:

-Tracfone is of the devil.  I don't want to get into it (I DON'T!!!!) but, I'm not kidding, my Tracfone-related woes almost made me cry today.  Almost.  Instead I just threw a little tantrum.  I think I've spent at least 5 hours on the phone with "customer service" over the last month or so.  It's a ridiculous, terrible, horrible, no good waste of my time and sanity, and I'm thinking I might just cut my losses (about $45 worth of minutes) and WALK THE HECK AWAY.  Anyway, don't use Tracfone.  If only in solidarity with me and in remembrance of all I've suffered.

-I bought Ding Dongs at Harmons today.  They were on sale.  It was an impulse buy.  There are 12 Ding Dongs in a package.  I told the kids they could have ONE a day, but apparently they didn't "hear me say that."  Anyway, two kids (who shall remain nameless) were left home with one younger kid (you can figure out who he is) while Forrest and I went to Jonas's baseball game.  When we came home, there were FIVE Ding Dongs left in the box.  Five Dongs have been accounted for (Ethan confessed to two, Elise to two, Jonas to one) but there are two remaining Dongs unaccounted for.  We're pretty sure Wyatt didn't have any (too high up in the cupboard, hard for a 3 year old to eat w/out anybody noticing), so until the guilty parties fess up?  No more Ding Dongs at the Hallstrom House.

Let the mourning ensue . . .

Deep Breath & Jump On In

I've decided that blogging is kind of like laundry.  You stay up on it, you get in the groove, you keep things from piling up, the whole endeavor's pretty smooth.  Clean socks, clean posts.  You get the metaphor.  But wait too long and suddenly you find yourself with cute photos and pithy comments and startling observations and family anecdotes spilling out of your mental laundry basket and piling all over the floor of your memory and before you know it, you're crying Uncle.  It's all too much!  Where to begin?

All you can do is take a deep breath, buckle down, and begin at the beginning.

Over the last three weeks or so there's been a lot going on.  Birthdays (Elise, then Forrest, then Jonas).  Easter.  Trips to CA.  Terrible colds infecting every member of the family but Forrest, he of the iron constitution.  (Do you want to know how many packets of Theraflu I've used over the last two and a half weeks?  Well, I don't know exactly, but lots.  I had a wicked head cold for over a week, and I've continued to have a sore throat since Thursday, March 26th.  I keep thinking I'm better and then it keeps sneaking back up on me.  But I digress.)  Anyway, a lot has been happening, and I'm going to do my best to move through all these goings-on in a concise manner.  And this post is still going to be way too long.  But you'll bear with me, right?

First, Jonas's 9th Birthday:

Jonas invited a bunch of friends from the neighborhood over for cake and pizza, then we took the whole gang to go see How to Train Your Dragon.  (Yeah, movie-based birthday parties are easy sneeze-y, aren't they?) I really liked the movie, too.  Fun, great visuals, emotionally interesting, good script.  All around highly recommended.  Jonas and his buddies had a great time.  I'd just started getting sick the day before and barely dragged myself through the day, but I did it!  Then I collapsed.

I woke up on Saturday, glad to feel a little better so we could go to Grandma and Grandpa Sweat's Easter Egg Hunt.  It was a beautiful day, and (once again) the kiddos had a great time.

(I'm not sure what Ethan's looking for up there. The Easter Magpie?)

Sunday was good.  I stayed home from church and recuperated.  We had Forrest's family over for a combined Hallstrom b-day dinner, but Forrest headed the whole thing up and I just smiled wanly and tried not to breathe on anyone. I was absolutely certain that after spending a whole entire day resting, Therafluing, and blowing my nose, that I would be all better, just in time for Forrest's birthday.

Wrong-O!

Luckily Forrest is an understanding sort, because I was too sick on Monday to take any pictures or do anything super-special about his big 3-9.  I did give him a nice book (a collection of humor pieces from The New Yorker), a couple of new shirts (well received), and some khaki shorts (didn't fit, took 'em back). I also made chicken enchiladas.  So I wasn't completely worthless.  Just mostly worthless.

Then Tuesday was Vacation Prep Day, since we were gearing up for our big trip to Disneyland.  I felt a little better, which was encouraging, so I did my normal frantic packing and house cleaning and double checking of important items (toothbrush cases! cell phone chargers! baby wipes! travel size spray bottles!).  It was also Jonas's actual birthday, so I gave him a kiss on the head and made his birthday dinner request.

Then, on Wednesday morning, we piled into the Tahoe and off we went.  The kids did really well in the car, even Wyatt, and the 11-hour drive didn't seem too arduous.  The weather wasn't all that great--we had snow in Utah and crazy winds the whole way down, winds that made you keep your hands on the steering wheel at 10 and 2--but the time went faster than I thought it would.  Well, except for the time we spent in the Pizza Hut in Barstow.  Nothing like waiting for a pizza for 45 minutes, starving and itchy to get back on the road.  And there was this family in the booth across from us who was waiting too--a man, a woman, and a kid--and they sat there, completely silent, the whole entire time.  It was spooky.  And then my throat was too sore to swallow the pizza anyway.  Ugh!  (Are you tired of hearing about my cold yet?)

So, Thursday was Disneyland Day #1.  Here's our photographic proof:

I had to beg Ethan to be in this picture.  What, no posing with Dale when you're 13?!?!

Pure fun.

Wyatt on his Dad's lap on the Jungle Cruise.

Only Elise and Jonas wanted to go on this ride, one of those crazy contraptions that shoots you way up in the air.  As you can see from Elise's expression, she was having second thoughts once they got her all strapped in, but she bravely completed her mission.  I couldn't have done it.

Yes, this is a waiting-in-line shot.  (And they might have been hamming it up just a bit.)  Thursday was crowded, but it was NOTHING compared to Friday!

We left Disneyland a little early on Thursday and met my parents who'd just gotten in for dinner at Buca.  Mmm!  Non fast food!  Then we tucked ourselves in for a nice rest in preparation for a full (crowded) Friday at Disneyland.

This is a shot of the crazy line at the Pirates of the Caribbean ride on Friday.  It was actually a relief to get in line, because at least then you weren't being jostled everywhere and worried you might loose your 3-year-old.  And speaking of that 3-year-old--he'd done such a good job going on big boy rides on Thursday (he'd done Pirates of the Caribbean, the Matterhorn, all that--there are definite benefits to having a tall preschooler!).  But . . . I'm afraid we get the bad parenting award for pushing things a little too far and taking poor Wyatt on the Tower of Terror.  I hadn't quite remembered how scary it was and the poor kid emerged from that ride shaking in, yes, terror, so on Friday he was veeeerrry suspicious about going on any more rides.  Once we got through this line to do the Pirates ride (this time with Grandma and Grandpa and Amy and Dave), Wyatt would have nothing of it.  "No scary pirates, Mom!  No scary pirates!"  So I waited outside the ride with the Wy-man for that one.

One thing Wyatt DID really like was the Buzz Lightyear ride.  Here he is with Grandma Sweat, shooting his guns:

There's another really cool new Toy Story ride over at California Adventure that's a lot like the Buzz ride--except it's in 3-D and it's a lot easier to tell if you hit something.  That one doesn't have a fast pass, though, and the lines were always really long, so we only got to go on it once.  But Wyatt loved that one, too.

Here's Amy, Dave and kids on the Small World ride.  I would have taken a picture of my dad on the Small World ride, but he exercised his right he's earned as Patriarch of our family to bow out of any It's A Small World rides, now and in the future.  He's done his time.  He's earned the privilege.  My mom sure loves the Small World ride, though.  There's something soothing and nostalgic about it, don't you think?

Some cute cousin shots from Friday:

"And then--you're not going to believe this--my parents strapped me into this malfunctioning elevator.  Full of ghosts!  And everybody was screaming like they were going to die, and the room was pitch dark, and I started thinking it was about time I get things straightened out with my maker.  Then all of a sudden the doors opened and everybody was smiling and laughing like it was some big joke.  I mean, seriously?  Seriously."

"Dude.  I don't know what to tell you.  That's all kinds of messed-up."

The big hit of the day, at least among everybody over 42 inches, was the California Screamin' roller coaster.  We even talked Grandma into riding it.  Once.

Gotta love that picture.

We had an early entry pass for Disneyland on Saturday, and since Wyatt was waking up every morning at 5:45 anyway (ah, traveling through time zones and staying in hotels with little ones) we thought we'd use it.  And I'm so glad we did!  We were able to go early on Saturday morning and rode a lot of the rides we missed without having to wait.  We even had the presence of mind to get a family picture:

By Saturday, Wyatt had recovered from his Tower of Terror scare and really enjoyed Splash Mountain and Big Thunder Mountain Railroad.  We didn't push our luck and put him on Space Mountain though (rounding out the Disneyland Mountain Triumvirate.)  I do enjoy Space Mountain, myself.  An oldie but a goodie.

We left before lunch to meet Amy and Dave and my Mom and Dad (they'd all slept in) at Laguna Beach.  We weren't sure if it would be too cold for the kids to get near the water--it was only barely 70 degrees--but the kids decided to brave the waves anyway.  Even Wyatt!  It was a lot of fun.  And I sunburned my calves so badly that they still sting a little in the shower.  (Why am I so dumb?  I know that I'm going to burn even if the sun isn't all that hot, and yet I persist in believing that THIS time will be the exception.)  Here are some fun beach shots:

After the beach, we headed home, showered and changed and got some dinner, then headed back to Disneyland to enjoy the park at night.  I love riding roller coasters at night, don't you?

It was a great trip.  We headed out on Easter Sunday and were able to listen to a little bit of conference on Forrest's laptop, and it was heavenly to have all day Monday to recuperate, do laundry, and gear back up for real life.  (The kids had that day off of school.)  On Tuesday we jumped right back on the treadmill (Scouts, AML meetings, homework, baseball practice, Young Women's, work for Forrest, teaching for me, soccer practice, etc etc.), and I haven't had a spare minute until tonight to sit down and blog about it all.

And--hallelujah!!--now I have. 

Hopefully from here on out, things will be quiet enough that I can be content posting my opinions about Lost (still awesome--loved the Desmond episode!) and American Idol (getting better, digging Casey and Crystal) and Survivor: Heroes vs. Villains.  (Not Boston Rob!  Nooooooooo!). 

(Ha, you say?  Ah, well.)

But at least I'm back on the blogging train.