Pajama Ride

One of my favorite treats as a small child was taking a pajama ride. This is when you get all ready for bed, squeaky clean from a bath, hair still damp, cozy in a clean pair of pj's, and you jump in the car for a nighttime adventure.

There was something so deliciously daring about being out of the house in pajamas. (This feeling wore off in college, when for some reason, I found myself out in pajamas a little more than necessary - hello Walmart or Waffle House!) Maybe it's because we knew we had dodged the bedtime bullet for a time, maybe it was the promise of adventure (even the grocery store takes on a allure when you're out after bedtime in your pajamas). Maybe it was the realization that the safe, snuggly bedtime feeling was portable, turning, for a moment, our family car into a mysterious magic carpet ride of dusky streets and twinkling streetlamps and togetherness.

Sitting in the backseat with my little brother, there would be no whining or shoving or complaints of "he's on my side of the car". We'd have our noses pressed to the dark windows, watching the golden snake of headlights stretch behind us, feeling mightily superior to all the other kids who had to put their heads down on pillows and obediently shut their eyes while we embarked on our top-secret stealth mission to...

We christened Violet into this family tradition over the weekend, when we loaded her into the car, clean and damp and cozy, for a quick trip in search of a "special treat". Our wanderings lead us to Dairy Queen, home to many a treat, where we shared a Blizzard (somehow she ended up with the lion's share - next time she'll get her own!) before heading on our contented, drowsy way home.

Pajama Ride!

Rainbow on our way.

All Packed Up

Yesterday was officially the last day of school. For teachers, at least. We had a tantilizing taste of the break over Memorial Day weekend, but then had to head back to the "office" for two more days. And what days they were!

Most of you probably don't know this, and perhaps it's not the way every school does things, but in our neck of the woods, we have to pack up our entire rooms. Every year. (This way they have access to the floors and walls to paint and wax and spruce the place up.)

Empty chairs and empty tables...

This year differed slightly, however, in that almost every teacher in the entire building will be in a new room next year. Which meant that not only did we have to box up our things, we then had to haul them to the other side of the building to our new classrooms. Once there, everything gets stacked ceiling-high in the hallways. It was craziness! But the first grade team was fantastic, as usual. We all pitched in and helped each other, taking 40 gazillion trips to and fro, to and fro, until we were all collectively done. Have I mentioned how much I love my grade level?

Boxes and piles and stacks, oh my!

The love continued the next day when we celebrated fellow first-grade teacher and bride-to-be Katie at her shower, hosted by us, her team. It was a great way to end the school year, surrounded by all the fabulous people I've worked with.

My team!

Now my next packing job - getting us ready for the beach!

At the Door

See this face? This is the face of someone off to their last day of the first year of teaching first grade. (Notice the bags under my eyes?) Yep, I survived. The kids are safely off to the loving (and I imagine, quickly exasperated) arms of their parents. I have two days of post-planning/moving classrooms and then my summer will officially start. I can't wait!

In the meantime, listen to this interesting story. The other day a little old man rang our doorbell. This is odd because first off, no one ever rings our doorbell. Our visitors usually pound on the back door (or more than likely, just let themselves in). Secondly, when the doorbell does ring, it's never a little old man standing there.

This little old man also happened to be clutching an extremely gaudy gold picture frame with an ugly faded purple matting. "I have something for you," he announced, thrusting the frame into Matt's arms. As it turns out, our home's first owner was standing on the front steps. He told us that all the original owners in the neighborhood received a special gift upon moving in - an aerial shot of their home. He and his wife discovered the old picture as they were cleaning out their current home in preparation to move and he took the time to drive it over and bequeath it to us.

Not something that happens every day, I dare say.

So I promptly discarded the ugly frame and faded matting, classed it up a bit, and look!

Our house, from the sky!

Closing Time

It's almost closing time.

Tomorrow is the end-of-the-year party. Parents will be coming, gifts will be given.

The walls are bare. There are boxes stacked in corners. Desks are empty. There are only the last minute chores - watching the clock on Friday, packing up the computer, returning the keys.

It's hard to remember the beginning of this journey. The overwhelming feeling of walking into the classroom every morning. The uncertainty. The blind faith of putting one foot in front of the other.

I survived parent-teacher conferences, field trips, grading deadlines, a trip to the principal's office. I survived school lunches and celebrated birthdays and was bailed out (and did some bailing myself) too many times to count.

And then we came to the end.

In Print

Remember when I wrote this post about the impossibility of "enjoying every minute" of parenting? And how I'm okay with that? Looks like I'm not the only one who was inspired by Glennon and her words of wisdom. My friends over at Fayette Woman Magazine found something that resonated with them as well.

If you want your very own in-the-flesh copy, just let me know. I'm sure the lovely ladies at Fayette Woman would be happy to oblige. What? Autographs? Well, I... Oh, you shouldn't have... Well, if you insist...

Oh. You mean Violet's autograph...

Finding Nemo

Finding Nemo

For Mother's Day, Matt and Violet took me to the Georgia Aquarium!

First we had to make a quick stop at Target to get a new umbrella stroller. Then we had a delicious breakfast at one of my favorite restaurants, The Flying Biscuit. After that we had to make a run to Old Navy because Violet needed a change of pants (mental note: start packing extra outfits). Finally we were on our way, only to have to wait an hour at the aquarium until our entrance time. Most exhausting preparations ever!

But once we made it in to see the fish, it was so much fun! Violet immediately went on a quest to find Nemo. We sadly realized clown fish are not in abundance in the world's largest aquarium. But we did spot Dori, otters, penguins, "really BIG fish!" and Violet totally got into it. What a fun Saturday outing!

At the bottom of the deep blue sea, just you and me...

Feeling small.

Posing with my bestie!

Of course, once we got home I had to go and sprout a 102 degree fever that put me on the couch the rest of the night. Some forced R&R, perhaps? Lucky for me, I have a wonderful husband who totally took over parenting duties and let me lay around like a slug and empty our DVR of all the back episodes of "Say Yes to the Dress: Bridesmaids". I'm still trying to bounce back.

Chicago Sees the Sun

Hotel view.

Remember when I said one of my favorite things to do in Chicago was look out our hotel window? Well, this is the view that finally greeted me on Sunday morning. The sky! The buildings! A little bit of sunshine sparkling on the water! Navy Pier in the distance!

Seeing the nice weather, we pretty quickly scrapped our plans of taking the train over to Lincoln Park. (Alas, that will just have to wait until next time. And there WILL be a next time!)

We had grand plans of visiting one of Ann Sather's restaurants for a traditional Swedish breakfast,then head to the Lincoln Park Zoo. Don't worry, we're going to have plenty of tourist left in us next time, Chicago.

Instead, we decided to revisit this plan:

The John Hancock Building, lit in violet.
Oh Hancock building, you temptress, you.

It was on our to-do list until the weather fouled things up. But Sunday morning we sensed an opening. We hustled over and took the fastest elevator in North America (or some statistic like that) to the Observatory so we could geek out like total tourists.

It was at this moment I forgot about the local's trick at the Hancock building. It wasn't going to work for us on a Sunday morning, but here's the deal. To get to the observatory you pay $15 to ride a super fast elevator to the 94th floor. The locals skip the observatory (and keep a few extra bucks), then ride the some other elevator to the Signature Room on the 95th floor. It's free, but plan to get out the wallet for appetizers, drinks & dinner. Second piece of advice? Skip the food, get a couple cocktails, and make sure you're there at sunset on a clear night. 

Ah, Chicago!

I loved it! Sometimes you just have to suck it up and be a tourist, huge camera and all. After so many clouds, it was even more breathtaking to finally view the city. We found our hotel, the buildings from our boat tour, the streets we'd been walking all weekend, and got to listen to the lovely David Schwimmer narrate our audio tour. Apparently Ross is from Chicago - who knew?

I've been to the aforementioned Signature Room and gotta say it felt good to be a tourist in the observatory for a little bit. On a clear day you can see forever

Up close: the beach. Distant green: Lincoln Park.

On top of the world!

It was a great way to spend our last few hours in the city. We capped off our stay with some deep dish Chicago-style pizza, dodged the rain (it finally came) on our way to the 'L back to the airport, and soon we were on our way home, anxious to see our little girl. It was a fabulous trip.

As far as pizza goes, Chicago, you've got nothin' on New York. Or Mellow Mushroom, for that matter. 

So remember when I was the experienced city-goer? Riding The El like a pro, hailing taxis left & right? Well, the part of the story I left out was that when I landed in Chicago Monday, on my own, lugging a weeks worth of clothes on my shoulder, I got to the ticket machine for the train and just stared. And stared. So there's a machine that only refills tickets, there's a machine that dispenses tickets via credit cards or cash. There's some other strange machine that does something train related. Problem was, there were absolutely no signs indicating how much a single ticket ride was. But, worst of all, there were people with me who knew EXACTLY what they were doing. So after, say, about 45 seconds of staring at those God-awful machines, a kind local walked up, tapped me on the shoulder, and asked if I needed a ticket (she must have seen that blank stare before). Turns out she'd just dropped her mother off at the airport and her mother's 3 day transit card was good until 7PM that night.  A miracle! I thanked her, exchanged some small talk, then proceeded to get my luggage stuck in the turnstile.  


The best part of the trip, though, hands down, was getting back to Mimi's house, visiting for a few minutes, then hearing Violet say to Kristine, "Mommy, I ready go ho-ome".