Tate's Earth-Shattering First Week at Pre-K

Tate has turned 4(!) and started pre-k. His first week was pretty Earth-shattering. And by Earth-shattering I mean during circle time he took a decent-sized globe and chucked it across the classroom, where it made a loud noise and broke, the teacher tells me. Fortunately, no one was hurt. Immediately after, he was unapologetic and told her he did it on purpose. When the teacher filled me in on these antics I apologized profusely and asked where I could buy a replacement globe. The teacher said she'd had it forever and wasn't sure. Perhaps his motivation was outrage that her globe still depicted Germany as two countries and the USSR as one. (Although I didn't get close enough to the shards of the globe of shame  to see for sure.) 

And if there are ever any national secrets that need to be kept, I recommend telling a preschooler. His lips are sealed when it comes to giving me any tidbits about what he has done during the day. I scan his little body for signs. Some days I'm lucky and there are clues. Yellow paint under his fingernails...ooh, he painted today! But mostly he has 2.75 hours a day now that he doesn't have to share with me. And that's how it should be, right? He's becoming more independent. But I'm pathetic and have even started grilling his little preschool classmates to see what they can tell me happened that day (they also reveal nothing). And what he does tell me is almost never related to what he's learned.


Me: Hi, honey! What did you do in school today?
Tate: I had a bad gas.
Me: Um...did you say excuse me?

Me: Hi, honey, What did you do in school today?
Tate: (Mumble mumble) I had a cigarette. (Or as he calls it, a "snickerette.")
Me: !?!????????!!!!????

As near as I can tell they were out at recess and a smoker walked by and threw down a cigarette. As far as I know it was outside the perimeter of the playground and no one touched or smoked it, but only Tate and his tight-lipped little cronies know for sure.

Suburb #2: WILMETTE

In the midst of our worst Chicago winter ever we were so beaten down we gave up on our suburb search completely and caved and signed a lease for another year. But that was a good thing, since now we (I) have even more time to obsess about where to move.

We happened to have a rental car one weekend, so we hit the North Shore suburb of Wilmette on the way back from a weekend at Timber Ridge Lodge & Waterpark (holy crap...more about that crazy later). So I didn't know much about Wilmette. A family I know just moved there last summer, but that's about it. When we first rolled into town my eyes lit up. Oooh! Quaint houses! Near the lake! Not crazy far from the city and served by the Metra and el! Low crime and good schools! Then we realized we were in eastern Wilmette. Western Wilmette, where we can afford to live, has all of those thing, except delete "close to the lake" and add "close to strip malls and the expressway." And delete "quaint houses" and add "the worst of mid-century architecture."

Ok, maybe I'm being a little overly dramatic (as usual), but we soon discovered that the houses in our price range were pretty outdated with not much in the way of curb appeal, and I'm someone actually who can deal with a little wood paneling here and there (we'll pretend we're on "Madmen!") or pink bathroom tub/sink/toilet (it's not outdated, it's retro!), but for $400,000? And there are some kinds of exterior ugly that just can't be fixed.

Once we adjusted our expectations we started to appreciate the charm of the area overall. But one of my main concerns was about high school. Kids in Wilmette (along with other North Shore neighborhoods) go to the much-buzzed-about New Trier High School in Winnetka (a town often confused with Wilmette because it is on the North Shore and starts with a "W," but even more wealthy). I don't care about the whole "keeping up with the Joneses" business, but how would it be for Tate going to school with kids from such wealthy families? Would he get teased a lot? Or have access to way better drugs? And yes, I realize that worrying about my kid being one of the "poor" kids in a super rich safe area is ridiculous and insulting to all the people who grow up in far, far worse situations. But I've seen "Pretty in Pink," people, and that didn't look like fun.

Not long after our trip to Wilmette I was at dinner with a friend and she mentioned that one of her friends moved to western Wilmette recently. Her friend found out after she moved there that people from western Wilmette are referred to (by some) as Willbillies. Argh, at least I would know what to prepare Tate for in high school. I also consulted Urban Dictionary and found out that western Wilmette is also referred to as the "Wilmetto." Nice. So Wilmette is still on our short list as I try to suss out, among other things, whether I can see myself as a North Shore Elly May. Who am I kidding--at my age I'd be Granny.

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.