Suburb #1: ELMHURST, the porn search capital of the United States

When we started exploring the suburbs online for a potential move we didn't have much to go on. But our search ended up going in two directions: west (Dupage county, stereotypically labeled "conservative") and north (John Hughes movie territory, apparently also conservative).

We decided to begin our search westward, mostly because we are just priced out of a lot of the northern 'burbs. I'd search in our price range and seriously, NO homes would show up for sale. So after cutting a lot of the western burbs for various reasons (too far, not much of a downtown, WAY too conservative), we stumbled upon this video about Elmhurst.

It looks awesome, right? Close to Chicago, cute downtown, great schools, super long bike path, some affordable and diverse housing options. Plus we are friends with at least one family who live out there. They are great, and their daughter is almost old enough to babysit Tater. But then I noticed a You Tube comment about Elmhurst being the porn search capital of the U.S., so I checked it out. Sure enough, according to this Huffington Post article it is. Maybe the suburbs wouldn't be so boring after all. I can spend my downtime speculating which of my neighbors are huge pervs. Or who knows, maybe I'd develop an affinity for smutty Google searches. It does sound more interesting than other suburban hobbies like scrapbooking and stamping.

I'm having an emotional affair

It's true. I'm cheating on Chicago. When I first moved here from Michigan nearly 20 years ago it was love at first sight--the people, the architecture, the energy. I remember standing in Union Station staring in awe. It was so majestic, and just so urban.

Now two decades and one kid later the bloom is off the rose, and I've started to sneak around and (shhh) explore moving to the suburbs. Nothing has happened, I swear. I have mostly just been checking things out online. And once I went  in person. I swear it was just once. OK, maybe twice.

My prior experience with Chicago 'burbs has been pretty limited. I have visited a friend here and there. I once met a guy from the 'burbs at a Halloween party. I kissed him on the roof of my apartment building because he looked like a young Matlock. (My best defense of this is to say nothing.) In the days leading up to our first actual date he regaled me on the phone with stories about suburban antics involving his stolen garbage cans. Or maybe it was just the lids? My friends nicknamed him Olive Garden. This did not bode well for our budding romance.

Would you burn your diaries?

After my grandmother died a couple of years ago I realized how much stuff we leave behind and how hard it is for our loved ones to deal with it all. And my grandmother was actually someone who made it easy. My grandfather had been a post-depression-era hoarder. He knew what it was like to go without things, so he kept as many things as he could in his basement, attic, and garage. You know, in case of some post-apocalyptic scenario in which back issues of "National Geographic" from 1977 could suddenly be used as currency.

So after he died my grandma got rid of a ton of stuff. Then when she moved to assisted living she got rid of a little more. And then when she sold her house even more, and so on. But we were still left with random things like rulers. She had three rulers. I didn't need one, yet it made me so sad to get rid of them. I want to make sure Tate has as few of those decisions to make someday, so I try to keep things pretty purged as I go.

And that brings me to my diaries.

Blurred lines: how to make yourself crazy trying to sew striped curtains that kind of remind you of Robin Thicke's suit at the VMAs

Our place desperately needed curtains, both from an aesthetic perspective and because I can feel actual gusts of wind blowing through our less-than-stellar windows on cold days. I knew I wanted striped ones, but these from Crate and Barrel are nearly $100 a panel (!), and since I need six to eight panels that just wasn't going to happen.

So I got some tips from the good people on Pinterest, and looky what I made:

Details below the break.

Grab some popcorn and a Snuggie, it's Hallmark holiday movie time!

Remember that craptastic holiday movie I meant to write for the Hallmark channel last year? Well neither did I, but if I had written it why couldn't have it been this one? A young woman tries to escape a childhood spent working on her family's Christmas tree farm only to be forced to return to the biz when she loses her job. Of course, this makes her a little "fir crazy." Ba-da-bum. I am guessing the dude pictured above and kissing also play into the story. Ah, holiday magic.

Are you middle-aged?

Recently we had friends over for dinner and I was describing someone no one else in the room knew. I said "He's kind of middle-aged...you know, around my age." One of my friends laughed and said that I wasn't middle-aged. Which was reassuring, but was he right? If you look at average life expectancy I'm over halfway there. So I searched the 'net and found this British article that helped me figure it out for sure.

How I Unintentionally Marsha Brady-d My Son

Do you remember this episode of the Brady bunch? Marsha is a freshman, and in her rush to do high school right and fit in she signs up for every single club. She ends up overextended, stressed out, and doing a lot of stuff she really didn't want to do.

Well, I inadvertently did the same this to Tate this fall. A lot of his other 3-year-old friends started preschool, but he didn't seem totally ready back at application time, wasn't potty trained, plus did you know preschool in Chicago costs like a bazillion dollars? So with the words of warning from other mothers echoing in my ears---he'd be behind if he doesn't start preschool at 3! what about socialization?--I overscheduled the hell out of him.