Since I started this blog, I've lived through the diagnosis and death of a dear friend's child, the death of my mother and the death of my grandfather, not to mention the countless real tragedies of life, like running out of coffee on a Monday and forgetting that it's Downtown Abbey night. When I started this blog, I was totally that mom who blew off fevers and mystery illnesses and thought that I would have my mom holding my hand during Ellie's wedding. Now... well, let's just say, I keep the pediatrician in business and I'll probably be holding my mother's necklace at the weddings. Sometimes, I miss that person, that former self who had no idea how fast things could change. But some of the time, I remember to be grateful for the experiences I have had and to remember that no matter how much it sucks that Mom died (and it sucks bad), I still don't live in the Ukraine or Syria and the regular problems I have are almost always solved by popcicles or stickers or a glass of wine with good friends.
So I'm going to stick with this little ol' blog. I'll try to make it funny, but I can't promise I won't stray into the serious from time to time. But tonight, I'll be funny :)
I kept meaning to write this in a blog, and I kept not doing it, so I'll do it now. A year ago, about this time of year, I decided that I would be Mother of the Year and take my kids to see the cherry blossoms in Washington, DC. If you haven't seen them, and you live within a reasonable drive, you really should, it is spectacular. Ellie was sitting the DCAS (our standardized testing in Delaware) so after a quick call to the school to ensure that they were finished testing, I showed up at school with a car load of snacks and juice boxes - a treat akin to crack in our house - and told the kids that we were going on an adventure. In case you're wondering what would possess me to go to DC with 4 kids, alone, on a weekday, I can only offer two explanations... DC is the least crowded on Tuesdays and it's far and away the best day to visit and I am a person who often overestimates the my limits.
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| Waiting for the Metro, best part of the day |
At last we arrived, still all so happy we could just spit. We popped out right in front of possibly the nicest hot dog salesman ever. I forked over $8 for hot dogs and we sat right on the grass and ate. Old ladies stopped to tell me how adorable we were. The sun was shining. Pretty much, it was the stuff that music montages are made of. Then, the first snag. Someone had to pee.
I got my bearings and realized that to my left was the Hirshhorn Gallery of Modern Art and to my right was the National Air and Space Museum. My goal being the cherry blossoms, I decided that Modern Art had no chance of capturing my kids' attention. I've spent quite a bit of time in all the various museums on the Mall and I remembered where the restrooms were in the Hirshhorn and I thought we'd just duck in, pee, and head out.
Phase 1, urination, went just fine. As we left the bathroom, Ellie spotted the exhibit entitled "Out of the Ordinary".
"What's that, Mommy?"
"That's an art exhibit, honey."
"Can we look?"
See, and here is where the wheels fall off the bus. I don't know it yet, oh no, I was too busy breaking my arm patting myself on the back for having an extremely curious and intelligent child who was interested in looking at the weird modern art. Obviously, it was a direct result of superior parenting. So in we went and first encountered a piece that I can only describe like this: A not leaning tower of Pisa, made entirely of 10" statues of the Virgin Mary, spray painted fluorescent yellow.
And as we were discussing things like perspective and interpretation, I looked over my shoulder and I saw it....
That, my friends, is a 6 foot long stick of butter.
Let me say that again. A 6 foot long stick of butter.
I did it, I had to. Cause no matter how cool I was trying to appear to the kids, no matter how important I feel that instilling a love and appreciation of all art is to my kids' education, I had to take a picture of the ridiculous 6 foot stick of butter and send it to Jeff. And in the moment that I stopped parenting and became a person with a cell phone, Will took off like a shot, straight towards the butter.
If you look at the picture again, you'll notice that there is a distinct lack of barrier surrounding the butter, preventing small children from climbing on something that you might find at the play place at the mall. What they do have is an overhead sensor that can tell when someone gets to close and it sounds an alarm. Several things happened at once. Will stepped over the line, the buzzer sounded, and a security guard yelled "Hey!" Will took one more step, did a pivot worthy of professional basketball and ran the other way, back to me. "He ripped it." said my calm eldest child. "What?" "He ripped it, look" I looked and when he turned, his foot had been on the wrapper and the pivot tore off a corner. Time slowed down, and I heard white noise. OMG, my kid just broke art in the Smithsonian. In a split second, I considered my options and I chose the only one that made sense. I picked Will and Jack up under each arm and said, "Girls, let's go. NOW"
We made it as far as the escalators. I was about halfway up when the guards caught me and yelled up to me, "Ma'am, we need to speak to you." It was at about this point that my brains started to leak out of my ears. They backed us up into a corner, right next to the bathrooms that we had so innocently peed in just 15 minutes before. Three huge security guards started asking for Will's birthday, our address, where we were staying in DC, etc. In the background, I could see a rush of activity - people walking with clipboards and cameras, snapping pictures of the damage. I answered the questions as best I could as Will, still in my arms, struggled to get loose. No fucking way were his feet going to touch the ground again. Meanwhile, Maggie, who had spotted a frozen yogurt truck on the way into this little adventure and who never forgets anything, was asking "Can we get frozen yogurt? Are we going to have frozen yogurt? Can I get chocolate? Will they have sprinkles?" Ellie, stood huffing and puffing off to the side, chanting, "Worst.Trip.Ever" over and over, and then Jack chose that moment to shit himself. By the time they were done, I was hot, exhausted, utterly humiliated and ready to cry. Well, truthfully, I probably was crying.
After a quick trip to the bathroom to throw away Jack's underwear, thereby ensuring our position on the blacklist of the Hirshhorn Gallery, we left. At this point, I went slightly crazy, a la Chevy Chase in Christmas Vacation. I wasn't going to quit and get back on the subway, OH NO, we came here to do the cherry blossoms and I wasn't leaving until I saw a goddamned cherry blossom and my kids had a lifelong memory. Refer back to my blog about Luray Caverns for more information about failed day trips.
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| Notice the kid sized holes in the railing? |
We salvaged the day, largely due to the kids love of the Metro - riding back pretty much put everything to rights. We even got to stop at my favorite restaurant for dinner.With all that said, peak bloom for the cherry blossoms is April 8 - 12 this year... who's going with us?
1 comment:
Erin, I am so glad you started blogging again. I am sitting here laughing, with tears running down my face. I know what the last couple of years have brought to you and your family, and I love that you haven't lost either your sense of humor or your talent for writing. You have the ability to take the common, everyday life of a mother and make it snap, crackle and pop! Welcome back, and thank you.
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