And that's why we should never get takeout.

Last night we got home and Grampa was in the back yard working on the tree house.  My boys are really lucky to have a grampa that is A) willing to build a treehouse and B) skilled enough to actually do it.  And the tree house is coming along nicely.  We have a platform, two walls, a baby swing and a rope swing.

Urban loves the rope swing.  Had I know that hanging a big rope from a tree would produce so many hours of quiet, I would have done it years ago.  Of course, years ago he probably would have killed himself on it, but that's beside the point.

Anyway, we hung out outside for a while as Grampa finished up.  Urban swung on his rope and sawed some random pieces of wood, then helped Grampa carry tools back to his car.  When we went in the house, I asked my mom what sounded good for dinner.  Chinese takeout was the answer.  To be more specific, David Fong's Chinese takeout.  So, I went upstairs and changed clothes and Mom called in our order.  Urban decided he really wanted to come with me.  He enjoys riding along to the Chinese takeout places.  He likes to compare shades of red and the size of the fishes in the tanks.  He also has a lot of comments about the various smells emitted from said locations.

On our way we stopped and picked up some 7Up to have with dinner.  I decided he could have a treat of soda for no real reason at al – just fun.  We pulled up to David Fong's around 6PM and discovered there was but a single parking spot left. - at the complete opposite end of the lot from the pick up door.  We trudged across the lot and through doors.  Urban was impressed by the smells, the fish were the biggest he's ever seen and the red interior was suitably dark per his tastes.  David Fong's is a winner in Urban's eyes.

We left and returned home immediately sitting down at the table to eat.  The food was fantastic.  Urban cleaned his plate.  Beringer had 3rds and Mom and I were delighted with the sauces and meats.  All in all, Grade A takeout.  We all sat back full and content.  Then, I looked at the boys – dripping with chow mein sauce and sticky with rice bits – and shooed them straight into the tub.  We scrubbed and splashed and played, and soon it was 7:00.

I got Beringer out and let Urban play a while longer while I sang baby-boy to sleep.  I came back and got Urban out of the tub and into his jammies.

"Do I have to go to bed now?!!"  he whined.

"No.  You still have half an hour.  What do you want to do?"

"Play pink monsters."  Urban has inherited Brett's collection of little plastic wrestling figures called M.U.S.C.L.E. Men.  They have been endless hours of creative fun for Urban.  He lovingly calls them his Little Pink Monsters.

So, downstairs we went.  I built intricate towers out of Jenga blocks and Urban populated them with Little Pink Monsters.  We played for a solid half hour, then I said, "Urban, we have 5 minutes until we brush teeth."

The room fell silent.  He face turned an alarming shade of red and he screamed, "MAMA!  NO!  I DON'T WANT TO BE DONE!  I HAVEN'T PLAYED AT ALL!!  THIS IS WHY WE SHOULD NEVER GET TAKEOUT!  YOU SHOULD JUST COOK AT OUR HOUSE!!!  STUPID TAKEOUT!!"

Whoa.  Really?

I tried to reason with him – Cooking takes just as long or longer.  We had a nice dinner.  It tasted good.  Pretty much whatever I could think of in the moment I blurted out at him, but he was having none of it.  He just glared at me.  Me and my dumb Chinese takeout.

Oh well.  What's one more night of bedtime freak outs in the grand scheme of things, right?  And it was worth it.

Confucius say:  "When anger rises, think of the consequences."  

I am fully willing to accept these consequences for some seriously delicious egg foo young.

It's been a while

Sorry for the length of silence, friends.  I guess I lost some motivation, but a lot has happened...

I got my new hair:

It's short and red.  I can wear it straight or curly.  I like it.  Even with the comments of "Lucy, I'm home!" that I've received.

I also made it into the top ten for the dreaded talent show.  I was floored.  I thought for sure I would get out of doing it.  I was up against some really cute kids!  So, I ran out a bought myself a new outfit that was appropriate for musical theater performance and began to slowly crumble into freak out mode.

I spent a week shaking and panicking.  It was pretty awful.  The only thing that really calmed me was thinking, "Why am I doing this?"  My answer was for the boys.  I know it sounds weird.  But I really decided to do it to show them two things.  First, it's fun.  It's fun to share your talents.  It's fun to perform and be on stage.  (Even if I totally didn't see that in the throes of my stage fright.)  And, second, it's OK to be afraid, but you need to do what you can to stand up to those fears.  And conquering your fears is what makes you a winner - not a ribbon or a cash prize.

So, I did it.  It was me, a group of tappers who were also ARRP members, and a bunch of kids in high school.  I felt great.  I almost blew the speakers out with my "projection" but I was really proud of myself.

And now, on the heels of my talent show debut, I will be handing out a humanitarian award at this year's Upper Midwest Emmy Awards this weekend!  Too fun.  Another reason to dress up and this time I don't have to sing!  (And I get a teleprompter.)  Yes!

Last weekend my family and I went to the MN Renaissance Festival.  We don't go religiously, nor do we own the period garb to really do it "right."  But we do love to go, and we like to participate on some level.  I, personally, adore dressing up, as I have discussed in previous posts.  But I have this deep internal struggle with following the crowd.  It's really less of a struggle and more of a complete neurosis.  Even in a place where weird is embraced, I can't look like everyone else by dressing in the full costume.  Sometimes, I will wear the breast-bunching wench-wear on top and low-slung jeans on the bottom (ok, that was before kids) and sometimes, like last weekend, I will wear my own clothing put together in a way that implies Ren Fest, but could still go to the mall without too many stares.

But the boys?  The boys we dress to the nines.

Urban donned his shining armor and Beringer became a dragon.  (He's on Brett's back in this picture.)



Here is what I learned this year at the Renaissance Festival:

Lesson #1:  There are still genuinely kind people in this world.  

When we first arrived, the court of the realm was seated on a platform greeting people – the queen, king and courtiers – Urban, of course, wanted to meet them.  We walked up to their platform and waited in line behind all the little girls oohing and ahhing over the queen.

While we waited, some of the courtiers began talking to Urban.  Urban is not afraid of strangers.  So, he chatted with them about knight stuff until it was his turn.  I whispered to him as he approached the "throne" that he needed to bow before the queen.  He did.  She smiled and gave him a gold coin.  He was thrilled.  Then the king looked down and said, "Sir, knight!  You are clearly a brave and noble night, for you have brought us a dragon!  But, where is your sword and shield?"  (I had told Urban he had to leave these at home because I didn't want to drag them around all day.)  but Urban replied, "I haven't earned them yet."

"Ah," says the king, "Well, I believe you have.  Come with me."  He gets off the platform and, followed by two "guards," takes our whole family (Auntie Chris and Grandma Mary were with us too) to the weaponry shop nearby.  (They were wooden weapons.)  I'll be honest, I became a bit tense at this point thinking 'what is he going to get Urban's heart set on that I will then have to buy??'

They walked around the shop together, the king and Urban, and chose a long sword ($20) and a hand painted shield ($38).  My heart was beating faster as I did the math.  Then the king walked up to the shop keeper and said, "This all goes on the king's bill."  And promptly lays the cash on the counter.

He then turns to Urban and, using his own sword, knights Urban, saying, "Sir Urban, you are clearly already a powerful knight, for look at all your servants!"  (laughs from the crowd that has gathered)  He then tells him that he must be brave and noble and kind, never fight with his brother and always listen to his mom.  He then gave Urban the King's Coin – a large gold coin with his face imprinted on it – and took a long sip from his cup.

We were in total shock.  And Urban, over the noise of the crowd said, "Thank you King.  You are a really good king."The king smiled and patted Urban's helmet.

As we left, we overheard the young boy who was working at the shop say, "Why would you just buy all the stuff for someone you don't know?"

To which the King replied, "Sometimes you just do things for people and expect nothing in return."

Amazing.  He is a good king.





Lesson #2:  There is still magic in the world.

There is nothing more magical than seeing a place like the Renaissance Festival through the eyes of a child.  Everything is real.  There are fairies and nymphs and dragons.  They all exist.  You believe.  These are not tax accountants and hair dressers in elaborate costumes.  These are real enchanted creatures.  And they can give you magical protection spells and whisper things in your ear.

Lesson #3:  No one gets more attention than a baby dragon.

We were constantly being stopped – Brett and I passed Beringer back and forth between us all day – and told we had a dragon on our backs.  People took pictures of him and cooed over him constantly.  Beringer ate it up.

Lesson #4: It may be a short ride, but it's still an elephant.

Urban decided early in the day that he wanted to ride an elephant.  We worked our way slowly through the festival, constantly promising that we would get him back to ride one.  Finally, as we were all winding down, we got back to the elephant area.  We knew this would be our last event of the day.  Urban, his cousin Mason, and Brett waited in the long line.  Brett hoped that he could just put the boys on and then wait to pick them up again.  Mary and I waited at the fence with Beringer so he could see the elephants.  

"KITTY! KITTY!" Beringer shouted as they lumbered by.  

"No, that's an elephant."  

"DOG! DOG!  RUFF! RUFF! RUFF!"  

"Really, baby, it's an elephant.  See?  She has a big trunk and grey wrinkly skin?  Elephant."  "THPPPTTTT..."

Well, it turned out that the boys were too little to ride by themselves.  So, Brett had to pay to ride with them.  $13 later they had completed their 1 minute meander around the small circle and were disembarking.  Urban came down the stairs with a big frown on his face.  

"That was a really short ride.  I wanted to ride longer."  He whined.  Brett crouched down next to him, hugged him, wiped away his tears and said, "I know, buddy, I wanted to ride longer too, but, in the end, you still got to ride an elephant."

So true.

Lesson #4: Nothing beats a day of family fun and a fantastical escape from reality.

Call Dee Snyder

Last night after I got Beringer to bed, Urban asked if I would go down tot he toy room and play with him.  I cheerfully said, "yes."  Although, in my mind, I was cringing a little.  Usually, as this scenario unfolds, it involves me sitting numbly holding a monster figure while Urban beats the crap out of all the others.  "This one is a bad guy, Mama.  This one is the boss guy.  I'm going to get him for you, Mama."  And on and on and on...

Last night, as we descended the stairs, he said, "Let's play the food game."  OK.  I love the food game.  3 years ago, when Urban was 2, he began showing interest in helping me in the kitchen.  So, I made it my mission that summer to find him a Fischer Price play kitchen at a garage sale.  As luck would have it, we came across one in very good condition that came with food and some utensils too!  And, as a bonus, it was not all shades of pink!  So, we paid the $20 asking price, disassembled it and jammed it into the Scion.  As soon as we got it set up at home, Urban commenced "cooking."  And what was the first thing he made me?  A red plastic fish on a tiny plate.  "Sushi!" he said, in his pre-full-sentence exclamation.  Ever since that first "dish," his creations have become more elaborate and creative.  I absolutely LOVE this game.

So, last night I sat in my designated diner's chair and pretended to eat a 4 course meal beginning with honey and donut soup with green grape garnish, followed by a waffle cheeseburger slider, a main dish of hotdog, sweet corn and banana, and then dessert – lime sorbet on a sugar cone.  It was quite an imaginary feast.  As I was finishing my sorbet, the plastic phone in the kitchen "rang".

It was Dada, apparently.  Urban informed me that I should, "Sit down.  You're better not gonna believe this.  Dada is DRIVING the BUS home, and he's bringing us kangaroos!  I get the orange one,a nd you get the purple one!"  This was followed by a lot of dancing and 'woo-hoos'.  Then, the phone "rang" again.  This time, it was Grampa Tom.

"Oh.  My.  Gosh.  Mama.  Sit down."  (I was already sitting.)  "Grampa Tom says that we need to go meet him at a concert!  And that I can get on stage and SING!  You better call Dee Snyder and tell him I'm coming."

I stifled a laugh as I was handed a second toy phone to make this very important call.  Then his phone rang again.  (Somehow I never hear the ring, he must have it on vibrate...)  Anyway, this time, it was Kelly Clarkson.  She was calling to give us directions to the show.

Urban grabbed my hand – his phone in the other – and started dragging me all over the house to find the concert.  At one point, as we entered a third room and it was apparently "not there," he rolled his eyes dramatically, covered the mouthpiece of the phone and whispered, "She's not very good with directions."

Finally, we ended up in Mom's living room on the main floor.  This was the venue.  Urban ran into a little alcove, strutted out with his hands held aloft in the rock and roll salute and said, "Hello!  I'm Dee Snyder, and...  I WANNA ROCK!!!!"

He then began a 15 minute performance of "We're Not Gonna Take It" ending in him encouraging me to join him in the chorus from my place in the "audience".  The crowd went wild.  (OK, I went wild.)  When we finished, he spun around, fists in the air, and shouted, "THANK YOU, XERXES AVENUE!"  And retreated back into the alcove.

It was the most fun I have had in YEARS.  Thank you, Urban, for the amazing concert.  You, quite literally, rock.