And

We the People of this family are incredibly grateful for the talented people that have helped us this far with the scheme. A friend we know from church, Lorianne, who has one of those brains that seems to retain and see from above and see forty steps ahead and meld everything together offered to have us over for lunch (delicious and healthy and easy (she claims)... case in point) to teach us about the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence. 

She encouraged the kids to search for the answers from the documents and the compare and contrast the two. I am sad to admit just how clarifying this experience was for me. My favorite part was when she asked the kids where they would like to travel -- they said Bar Harbor, Maine -- and then they went to the computer and printed out the route from NYC to Bar Harbor. She explained that the GOAL (Bar Harbor) was the Declaration of Independence and the MAP was the Constitution. (She also said to me that the Declaration of Independence could be thought of as a mission statement and the Constitution the business plan). 

I also liked being reminded that there were ten years between the Declaration and the Constitution when our country was a hot mess. It makes me feel hopeful for other countries that are trying to work things out right now. Life is a balance between inspiration and patience. 

There were a lot of facts and a lot of ideas.. and I will have to admit that I felt antsy because my kids were like little zombies mumbling out unintelligible responses. I have to remind myself that at 9 and 7 a lot of these lessons are just meant to be exposure... I have also been reminded of how thankless the job of a teacher is. As soon as we walked out the door both of my kids looked at me all perky and said, "That was sooooo cool."/"That was really fun!" I was like: "WHAT?" I felt like I had been sabotaged into turning into the helicopter parent ("Answer clearly please!") because I so wanted Lorianne to know how awesome it was, and so to find out that they had actually been liking it the whole time was for some reason maddening. I have no doubt that teachers go home on most days feeling like all of their creativity and thought and preparation was wasted on a bunch of mumbling zombies... So I'll just put it out there (for really no purpose other than for myself) -- to all the teachers in the world: THANK YOU, and steady on -- a lot of kids are listening and absorbing -- but the process of listening and absorbing is kind of using up all their energy, so it's super hard to also be articulate and animated. Some can do it -- and that's a goal. Our map for getting there is just more and more exposure...

We balanced out our brain workout with a little Halloween play date/party with friends from school. The kids made decorations and planned games (which they didn't end up playing because running feral is more fun and, I think, more beneficial).

There was a tragedy in our neighborhood this week, and there is a whiff of anxiety for a possible hurricane... Having good friends -- friends who reach out and offer to enlighten my children, and friends who come to our parties to play, and friends who send kind emails, and friends who bring us eggs from their chickens -- helps us feel a bit more anchored and insulated from frightening elements. 

Nature -- Sometimes It's Breathtakingly Beautiful... Sometimes It Smells Like Poop

Nature. Pretty sure that it's the most important ingredient to being a happy and healthy kid. Getting it into our curriculum is something that The Dad is particularly good at. Today he went to work really early so he could get done a bit early and pick us up for our yearly tradition: on one of the weekends before Halloween we go to the Sleepy Hollow Cemetery and take pictures of the kids in their costumes. The tradition started a few years ago when we used to do all the Sleepy Hollow stuff (Legends, The Blaze, etc...), but the events have changed and the kids have changed, and now we just go up for the cemetery photo shoot, and listen during the ride there/back to Washington Irving's tale on a CD that we bought at Philipsburg Manor a couple of years ago. 

Costumes -- The Dad and The Boy are Lenny and Squiggy (in their Lenny and the Squigtones outfits), The Sister and I are Laverne and Shirley, and The Girl is Boo-boo Kitty. We totally know going into this that 99% of the people who see us won't get it... But it's fun to be a team. And we'll do it our way, yes our way... Oh shoot, let's just put the whole awesome song here for posterity:

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. 
Sclemeel, schlemazel, hasenfeffer incorporated. 
We're gonna do it! 

Give us any chance, we'll take it. 
Give us any rule, we'll break it. 
We're gonna make our dreams come true. 
Doin' it our way. 

Nothin's gonna turn us back now, 
Straight ahead and on the track now. 
We're gonna make our dreams come true, 
Doin' it our way. 

There is nothing we won't try, 
Never heard the word impossible. 
This time there's no stopping us. 
We're gonna do it. 

On your mark, get set, and go now, 
Got a dream and we just know now, 
We're gonna make our dream come true. 
And we'll do it our way, yes our way. 
Make all our dreams come true, 
And do it our way, yes our way, 
Make all our dreams come true 
For me and you. 

source: http://www.lyricsondemand.com/tvthemes/laverneandshirleylyrics.html

After taking pictures and exploring the cemetery a bit (we found a colony of rather sinister looking huge black beetles with weird bodies) we drove to Stone Barns -- such a beautiful, beautiful place. We have been a few times -- we've done the Saturday egg-collecting event twice -- and it's always beautiful, but today -- as evening was coming and the fall leaves were glowing, or floating, or crunching -- it was perfect (except for the poop smell). You can walk around and check out the animals any time you want, so we looked at the chickens and turkeys and sheep (and Stella and Stewart the two dogs that guard the sheep -- we love them -- once a sheep had been born the very morning of the day we were visiting and a farmhand stepped into a little corner of the barn to lift the baby up for our view, and Stella went nuts... At that moment The Girl and I felt a deep respect for Stella. Tonight when she barked at us we just loved her for it). Where was I? And pigs, and cows, and geese, and a zillion little gnats. 

After leaving Stone Barns it was just a hop-skip to Swan Lake -- a part of the Rockefeller State Park Preserve -- and we walked around it (a bit over a mile?). The best part was when we heard swooshing and honking and looked up to see about 200 Canada Geese all coming in for a landing in the middle of the lake. It's for moments like that that you go outside.  I hope that my kids caught the eternal quality of the moment. 

We got to watch wild animals en masse settle in for the night. Dang. 

If not for the scheme I'm pretty sure that at that moment when we were spellbound -- watching those geese descend from their overlapping formations, skim along the water and then settle their wings to their sides -- we would have been sitting at our kitchen table doing homework.

Now a word about something even more lame than homework:

I totally understand that hairy bung-holes are a part of nature in their own right, but you shouldn't be looking at them and coming to my blog. Seriously. Go away. This whole (hole? groan...) blogging thing might be too much for me after all... Feeling rather up about the blog because of a thoughtful email I received from a friend, I decided to explore my "dashboard" to find out fun tidbits about my blog's history -- how many people have visited, from what countries my visitors have come, etc... It was all kind of cheerful, until I made a mistake that might haunt me the rest of life... I clicked on one of the addresses from my "traffic sources" to see from what websites my people were coming from, and up came a  grid of pictures -- of hairy bums -- a bung-hole bingo if you will.  What is wrong with people??? Best case scenario is that it was a random throw-out to a bunch of random blogspot addresses, but still -- there's somebody behind those bung-holes... THIS is EXACTLY why I don't do social media. I just want to find a nice little rural British village -- without any technology -- and live my days in blissful ignorance of the weirdness of others. 

Roaches and the Election

We have wanted our young citizens to be up on current events. Our son likes the newspaper, and has on more than one occasion suggested the deal while standing in line at Starbucks, "Can I get a New York Times and a hot chocolate instead of a donut and hot chocolate?" Often we indulge, but these days when I'm already rather crazy trying to fit in a million things, it kind of takes up a lot of time to either explain, or censor. In a perfect world Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert wouldn't have such potty mouths and then my kids could just watch them and get everything that they need by way of "news" and critical thinking, but I think that there's a better chance that they will start working for Fox.

We did learn of a website that so far has been great. It's dogonews.com and it is a bunch of news stories that cater to the younger crowd. The kids like that they don't have to have me as a filter -- they can go to it when they have spare time, choose whatever looks interesting, and read it on their own. Today while we were drying dishes (blasted dishwasher broke... this city has already made it so that I would NEVER cease to be grateful if I had a washer and dryer in my home... now I've got a new reverence for dishwashers), the kids told me all about cockroaches that are being fitted with wire antennae (bionic roaches), and little backpacks with cameras, and then being trained to go into rubble to search for survivors. They were stoked. I was like: "Ugh. Come on. Don't make me respect a cockroach." Can't some things just be obviously awesome or obviously repellent? All this having to keep thinking about every little thing is wearisome. 

Speaking of, we are gearing up for the election. While in St. Louis, at a nice little independent bookstore called Left Bank Books, I picked up the book: The People Pick a President. I read it, stopping to explain if necessary, and the kids take notes. Then at night they're supposed to explain what they've learned to The Dad. So far one set of notes that I'm looking at right now says:
1. 4 years
2. Damakreshe [democracy... some German ancestor must have been possessing her or something]
3. D. [she was even afraid to try to spell it again] means peopel have the power to choose govermet
4. longest and toufist electchen
5. chief executive
6. heads executive branch
7. suggest laws to congres
8. cheif of state
9. top diplumat
10. comander in cheif [this was listed 17 times]
11. cabnet = 15 experts
12. advisers
13. constetuchin rules
14. 35 years old
15. lives in united states 14 years
16. nataral born sitasen in u.s.
17. electin day has to be on first tuesday after the first monday
18. electoreo collage desides the president

Not sure if that spelling is typical for a 2nd-grader, but in her defense, she was taking notes rapidly, and if she retains half of that, I have a sad hunch that it is more than many adults know... and they will actually be voting. 

We're All Wrapped Up

I'm kind of freaking out about math. I can't figure out how much is a "normal" amount that we should be doing. It's the one lingering insecurity that I have about the scheme, and I'm not sure if it's because math has always caused me angst (when I have those nightmares that are equal parts panic and deep sorrow about being in college and realizing that I was supposed to be going to class all semester and somehow I haven't been and now the semester is over and life doesn't seem to be worth living because for some reason I haven't been going to that class... it's always a math class), OR if it's because the kids really need more to stay on track. I'm also not sure if it's the most awesome thing ever, or lame that my life is so entwined with my kids' right now that I can't rightly figure out if MORE math is about me or them... 

Anyway, here's one more part to our curriculum puzzle -- Learning Wrap-Ups. The kid wraps the string from the first number to the answer and then back to the second number and then to that answer, etc. until the end. Then he/she flips it over and checks to see if the string's criss-crosses match with the pattern on the back. We have the multiplication set, and we like it well enough that I will probably get others. Its strength is that the student can practice independently and check his/her work in a way that is kind of fun. 

Today we had "school pictures" with a creative and patient photographer -- Maria Hunter. I highly recommend her if you are looking for somebody in the NYC-area who is kind with children in a genuine way (I can't stand the fake-enthusiastic voices that are tinged with irritation... not that my kids are ever irritating during a photo shoot... because that might mean that today I might have actually whispered threatening words into a sweet child's ear when I had had it up to my eyeballs with certain antics... I'm just saying that hypothetically if a kid were being irritating, Maria would be very cool). The concept is pretty fun and I will definitely share the finished product when it's ready... it has something to do with multiples... 

Back to Regularly Scheduled Programming

Book reports. The kids read a book and fill out a book report form. Based on the difficulty of the book, the adherence to the form requirements, and the insight of the answers (expectation of "insight" = age) an amount is entered into their checkbook register. 

During the year as I see interesting stuff on sale for dirt-cheap I'm going to accumulate items for an auction. At the end of the year we'll have our auction and the kids will use the amount of money that they have in their "accounts" to outbid each other for the items that they most want. 

We did this in 3rd-grade and I loved it. I loved the checkbooks, I loved watching my account grow, and I loved the auction (I cleaned up). Granted, the competition was a lot more fun because I wasn't just bidding against one other person (my sibling), but nonetheless it's a fun memory that I have, and when I told the kids about it they asked if we could do it. For the most part they are turning in book reports rather regularly without me reminding them. 

The book report forms will morph into actual book reports in the next couple of months. For now they are learning to extract:  primary characters vs. secondary characters; the important events; the events that are cool/funny, but not important; and something that they learned and can apply to their lives. 

They are also learning small basics like writing about events in books in present tense and underlying titles. We are having two-second micro-lessons on which words are to be capitalized (not: articles, conjunctions, or prepositions, and usually not "to" -- unless those words are the first or last word in the title). To be honest, we are usually calling those "short words that aren't that important to the meaning of the title." I have no doubt an author of a book that has used an article in an inspired/critical/artsy/edgy/insightful way would freak out about that sum-up, but whatever... we're doing the best we can here. 

There's No Place Like Home

We left our hotel around 6:30am, as I felt that the more driving we got done early the better... Pouring rain. Our spirits were kind of low and we ate left-over cheese from the day before that we had put in our ice-bucket during the night, and some trail mix. Such food did nothing to raise our spirits. A couple of hours in we pulled into a rest-stop and ran a couple of laps in the rain. This helped to shake off the grim feeling, but within 15 minutes we were back to cranky.  Rain. Construction. Rain. Construction. There was a particularly frightening moment with a semi-truck. 

Our goal was to reach the Paul Dunbar house in Dayton for a bit of culture and a leg stretch (maybe a Junior Ranger patch -- we're sick) before continuing on to Pittsburgh.  

An hour out of Dayton we stopped at a Cracker Barrel for lunch (no matter how many times I stop there and feel wretched afterwards I still get sucked in by the old-timey signs, the easy-to-access bathrooms, and the candy sticks). We kind of had fun looking around at all the crap in the store, eating nasty food, and playing that wooden peg game that they have on the tables (we found out that all three of us were "ignoramuses" -- spelled in some dumb way that I can't remember).  

Back in the car, and somehow I missed the exit for the Dunbar house. I pulled into a parking lot, looked at my map and called The Dad. I had lost an hour because of time-zones, it was still flippin' raining, and anything good that I had gained at the Cracker Barrel was swiftly being squashed out by everything bad that I had gained at the Cracker BarreI. I was cranky. The kids said that they didn't care one way or another about the Dunbar house, so I made the decision to just keep on going. For reservation purposes I had to commit at that time as to whether or not I would stop in Zanesville, OH (two hours from where I was), or go on to Pittsburgh (another four horrible hours). I was already way behind schedule, but decided to push on to Pittsburgh. Boy, was I mad at myself as I passed Zanesville. By that time we had been on the road for eleven hours -- pouring rain the entire time. I felt like all of my nerve-endings were on the outside of my body spluttering and hissing. I explained to the kids that driving in the rain was hard because you can't see as well -- especially when the huge freakin' trucks keep splashing up freakin' water on the freakin' windshield. Further, all of the driving that I had been doing for the past few days had been in cities that I did not know. Driving is one thing, driving in unknown territory is altogether different. They kept asking me why I kept saying, "Crap" if they weren't allowed to say it. 

We listened to the book on tape (CD) of The Wizard of Oz. How I hated the woman's voice that was reading it. It was crap. 

Then, right after passing Zanesville the rain stopped. I felt so light and optimistic. Suddenly I could see how beautiful the foliage was as the sun was setting. With some of the stress gone I felt less tired. The rain had been brutal, but not having the rain made those last two hours more doable than I would have imagined. We rolled into our hotel in Pittsburgh, looked out our window at a cool bridge, ordered room service -- including a pot of herbal tea -- and watched some really bad TV on the Disney Channel. 

"Come on. Get up."

I was hoping for another 6:30 departure, but it wasn't going to happen. The Dad had emailed me directions to the Mr. Rogers memorial, and we finally got out of the hotel and across the bridge closer to 8:00. We got there easily, the memorial was sweet, and there was NO rain. We got back in the car feeling like things were going to go pretty well. We drove past the Andy Warhol museum just for kicks, and headed towards our last Pittsburgh stop -- the incline. 

Oh, Mama. The bridge that I needed was blocked off for construction. I took the detour bridge, but when I got to the other side found that I was very far off from where I needed to be, and when I put the street name in my phone map it dropped me off on the street, but not far enough over and it was one way. Circling around. Up hills, down hills, over bridges, back over bridges (I've often said that I think Pittsburgh is so lovely because of all the water and bridges... but my goodness it's a sinking feeling when you realize that you are headed towards another bridge and there's no getting off). That's the thing, there are a lot of exits and entrances and "this lane only"s and signs saying you can't turn, and very little margin for error. You get on trajectories there and you have to ride them out until you can find some sort of exit/opportunity to turn around. I will say that I saw neighborhoods of Pittsburgh that I doubt many tourists have seen. One of them seemed like it was abandoned, and I felt a little chill when the Once-ler peeked out of a window. 

I finally figured it out and we made it to the incline. I think that there are at least two inclines that go up and down the hill -- it's actually part of their public transportation -- which is clearly awesome. 

At the top of the hill we found a little coffee shop and the kids got hot cocoas and sticky buns.  I heard the owner of the shop talking about a truck that lost its brakes the day before and slammed into a school bus. Ugh. A police officer parked his car in front and came in and we got to watch his dog guard his car. We asked and found out the dog's name is Sonic -- which put that lame: "The S is for Super and the U is for... Super Sonic..." song/chant/cheer thing in my head. 

Back down the incline, into the car, a fairly smooth entrance onto the right freeway and away we went. Pennsylvania is a beautiful, beautiful state. The thick trees (all golden or red or orange), the green hills with gorgeous red barns. It does raise your spirits to see it even when you're checking your mirrors constantly for trucks that seem to be rushing forward to crush you. 

Our last stop on the route was Hawk Mountain. It is the world's first refuge for birds of prey. The country roads that lead to it are such that inspire poets. The refuge itself is dense and beautiful. We watched the bird feeders for a couple of minutes, and in the visitors center learned a bit about the conservationist, Rosalie Edge.

"One lady who made a huge difference. Have we learned about anybody else like that?"
"Mother Jones."
Happy sigh. 

We went to the amphitheater for a hawk demonstration. An interesting fact -- birds of prey are not birds of prey simply because they eat meat, but because they eat meat with their talons. 

I wish I could say that getting back into the city was seamless. It was not. I missed the entrance to the Lincoln Tunnel and ended up who knows where, found the truck route that could lead me back to the tunnel, and missed that exit (don't ask), so finally had to do a big fat turn-around who knows where. I was trembly and kind of teary by the time we got home. Our little apartment has never felt so safe. 

In the book Gone With the Wind Scarlett O'Hara kills that Yankee soldier and always referred to that experience when she was faced with something hard ("I killed a man. I can do this..."). Often I've thought about the importance of doing hard things, so that you have something to bolster you when faced with something else hard. I kind of store such experiences up like nuts. "I drove by myself with two young children from Chicago to St. Louis, and from St. Louis to New York City" doesn't have the same ring as, "I killed a man," but it'll do. 

On my wall I have photos of my great great aunt. I have a large one of her as a beautiful young child, and another of her as a beautiful woman at her brother's (my great-grandparents') wedding. When I met her as a kid she was saggy-mouthed, stooped over, and wearing one of those paper shower-caps that very old women used to wear (not quite a hair-net, but I think similar in purpose). And man was she a witch. It certainly added depth to those beautiful pictures when I received them as an adult. That scene from Dead Poet's Society when Robin Williams has the young men look at the old pictures in the trophy case perhaps resonated with me because of this experience. Remember -- he reminds them that when those pictures were taken the young men in the photos felt just as young and full of life as they did -- and now they are all dead. Carpe Diem.

Or maybe I have it backwards. Maybe those pictures immediately whispered Carpe Diem because I had already seen the movie -- and seen my great great aunt. I don't know. The point is, that my kids have grown up hearing stories about their papa and his brother when they were kids. Their favorite is the one when my grandma was gone, so my grandpa sent the two boys down to the burger place to get three identical meals for dinner. Riding home on their bikes my uncle dropped one of the meals and without a moment's hesitation told my dad that his meal was ruined.

But that uncle isn't a boy anymore. Time has passed, and a part of me not only wanted the kids to meet their great uncle, but also learn that young boys and girls grow up to be old men and women -- so Carpe Diem. Of course, my uncle isn't really old yet, and it wasn't that well-formed in my mind, but it was there and I thought that if everything else on the trip sucked, and if the drive was horrible, at least that lesson could be learned. 

But a different lesson happened. My uncle walks and smiles like my grandpa that passed away. He has his hands and many of his mannerisms -- way more than my dad does. The similarities kept surprising me. And making me feel really happy, because I thought those things were gone.

So among all the other fabulous things that we learned -- about raptors and westward expansion and artists and unions and fishing -- we also learned something else... To Carpe Diem is important -- we should definitely seize the day and make the most of our lives -- but that is an incomplete understanding. The other part to it is feeling comfortable in just being. While there should be motivation to live fully, there needn't be a great urgency to be frantic -- because it's never really over. We will live on in future smiles and hands -- our children, our nieces and nephews, our students who pick up mannerisms... 

Family -- however you define it -- is perhaps the most simple and deep thing that there is.

A picture that sums up the trip for me:

Yes. That is a rainbow in the background. 

And yes, we would have missed it if we had gotten up "on time." 

Lesson introduced: we plan, but we also accept. 

St. Louis Take Two

I woke up on that second day in St. Louis feeling fabulous for three reasons: 1) the car was parked and I didn't have to touch it for the entire day 2) it was windy, but not raining (do they let you up in the arch if it rains? seems kind of like a lightning issue -- it's 630 feet) and 3) we had cake on the agenda for breakfast. 

That would be gooey butter cake. I guess the bakery that makes it has been featured on the Food Network, but I read about it in a Family Fun magazine (in the very article on St. Louis that made love with the scheme and birthed this baby of a trip). The cake was indeed gooey and buttery and amazing. Can you tell from this blog that we try not to eat processed foods -- specifically processed carbs/sugars except on special occasions? The scheme has become one big special occasion and I'm bloated to prove it. 

Though we were some of the only people on the street (so weird for us), we walked to the arch so we could be there when the visitors center opened at 9am. We passed some fountains... The Boy's instinct when he sees stairs is to run and run... The Girl's is to wait it out. 

Okay, so this is what the water looked like in the fountain in front of the Old Courthouse -- where the Dred Scott trial happened:

Pink? Right? Well, just as my uncle's house isn't pink, that water isn't either. When I asked a security guard why the water was pink he looked me up and down like I was mold and said, "It's red." For the Cardinals. Duh. 

We passed by the Old Courthouse (definitely want to take a tour of it someday, but there are only so many hours in a day). I thought that the kids would think it was a capital building and so asked after we passed, "What do you think that building looks like?" The Boy answered with a straight face, "The Jefferson National Expansion Memorial." I pulled a face and said, "Clearly you can read signs." The Girl thought this exchange so funny that she has repeated it several times -- laughing so hard you almost can't make out the words ("The Jefferson National Expansion Memorial"). 

Though we were there before 9 o'clock, there was a bit of a line. The visitors center is underground and there's a museum, an enormous IMAX movie theatre, a gift shop, and an old fashioned general store (I guess circa Lewis and Clark). We bought tickets for the IMAX movie about L&C, the ride to the top, and the riverboat hour-long tour. We then found out that while you can buy a patch in the gift shop, the Junior Ranger program had been suspended. Being expert Junior Rangers we know about how much work goes into a patch, so we walked around and learned some interesting facts (i.e. the arch was conceived in 1933, but not built until 1963 because of the war, etc... by an architect by the name of Eero -- first name, might be the coolest name ever... He actually didn't live to see it completed). And then bought our patch in the gift shop. 

Our first timed-ticket was to watch the Lewis and Clark IMAX movie. It was beautiful and interesting and exciting and sad. Maybe it was because I was tired, maybe it was because I have tried so hard on this trip to remind the kids to be kind to each other because they don't have any other siblings, maybe it's because I knew that within the hour I was going to be crammed into a little pod and shot 63 stories into the air, but I cried at the part when Sacagawea is reunited with her brother and the expedition is saved. She was one impressive lady -- doing everything those men did (and in some cases more) with a baby strapped to her back. My favorite part of the movie was after the group reached the Pacific and with winter coming they had to figure out where to stay and they took a vote. It was the first documented time in American history when a slave (York -- Clark's slave), and a woman (Sacagawea) voted. 

On to our pod. We peered out windows on both sides at the top and stood on the keystone, and then boarded our return pod. 

Once grounded we went to the old fashioned store and bought among other things, some cheese, bread, and sliced salami and went outside and ate it in the brisk Autumn wind. We have since talked about that meal and have counted it as one of our best. When I think of the arch now I'll remember my kids underneath it chasing a blowing, escapee receipt far and farther out on the grass, and then laughing, returning triumphant holding up the piece of paper. I shall also remember the weird braced-leg stance that they got into when they looked up at the arch from below because it made them feel wonky. 

With a bag of salt water taffy in hand we boarded the Tom Sawyer.

We learned quite a bit -- the stones by the loading dock were placed a long time ago because people's horses were getting stuck; the relationship between trade and the river -- we watched a barge getting loaded with grain, and learned that a barge has to be loaded from one end first because if it's loaded in the middle it will snap in half... seeing one side so much lower in the water was kind of alarming... I guess a loaded barge sits 9 feet lower in the water than an unloaded one; each cargo ship that came to dock had its own distinct whistle so the merchants would know whether or not they needed to get down to the docks.

We learned that a brand new electricity plant had to be built to supply the fair in 1904, and even though it looks like a dinosaur it is still in operation.

We also learned that cinnamon and peppermint salt water taffy are the clear front-runners, both having earned five stars during our on-board taste test. 

After regaining our land-legs we walked to Citygarden -- which is really cool.  The kids loved that it's all free-love, so children are allowed to climb as long as they aren't destructive. 

But the climbing-on-art-options here are oatmeal (and I mean no disrespect) compared to where we were headed the afternoon. The City Museum is by far and away the most impressive space for children that I have ever been to. It's probably a good thing that I left my phone in the hotel when we stopped for a potty-break, because perhaps I would have been too distracted and missed even more than I already know that I missed. It is enormous, having been built in an old shoe factory and every room is a surprise (here's another link -- the actual website is cool, but perhaps too much...). Yes, I went down the ten-story slide. Twice. I was kind of in a sticky spot -- the kids wanted to do everything, but sometimes the shoots and slides and tunnels would empty them out really far away... so when that was going to be the case I grabbed my handbag in front of me like an old woman and followed. Again, it was awesome to be there at an off-time for most families because it wasn't at all crowded. Anything the kids ran towards to do they did without waiting in lines or being bumped into by others. 

On the roof there is an enormous praying mantis that overlooks a white mesh tube that has a slide in it. You walk up a ramp that is super high from the ground (obviously -- it's on the roof of a factory) to access the ladder that takes you up to the tube/slide. I could walk with my kids up the ramp and to the ladder, but because of the width of the tube, it seemed best that I not attempt the slide (ahem...). 

And so I stood and watched my kids do something that made me dizzy. And they did it. And they lived. And they laughed. And they were proud of themselves. 

By the time we walked back to the hotel we were pretty spent. We had seen a bookstore earlier that morning by the gooey cake place and set out towards it thinking that we would find an interesting restaurant. Apparently we made a circle and ended up back by the Bailey Grange. We shrugged, and decided what-the-heck -- we surely couldn't find anything better.

We were not the only ones in the restaurant this time -- it was packed -- but we were the only ones not wearing Cardinals-red-not-pink. The food was still delicious, and we did another taste-test (two competing Cream Sodas). However, while we had a nice time, the magic wasn't there that had been present the previous night. Lesson: learn to be crazy-grateful for enchanted experiences because they are rare, and can't be recreated. 

Meet Me in St. Louis (Day 1)

The above picture was on our little table at the bakery on Delmar where we got bagels. I have a whole new perspective on the perils of family trips once I became the sole responsible adult. The man at the counter asked the kids if they were playing hooky and I answered, "We're from New York," (if said in the right tone people seem to assume that we have different days off or something) at the exact time The Boy said, "Yes." Which made the man say, "Wow. When you guys play hooky you don't mess around." Yeah, like to the tune of an entire year... After breakfast we walked across the street to a cool art shop and bought two pads of water-color paper and two little water-color paint kits. I had great visions of my little artists planting it in front of a habitat and creating... As it turned out, they just wore their backpacks full of supplies for nothing, as the zoo was a bit bigger than I anticipated

On to the zoo. Being as the kids and I determined that if we saw something cool on this trip we were going to stop to check it out, I pulled into a neighborhood that we had passed the night before -- I had seen lights twinkling amongst leaves and bricks. It's called Parkview, bordered by Skinker and Park Forest, and is without a doubt the most beautiful neighborhood I have ever seen -- beautiful homes and enormous trees that make you feel like you've entered something protected and sacred. I did not know such neighborhoods existed. I Googled it and apparently most of the houses -- the majority three-story brick -- were built in 1915/1916 and the community is a part of the National Historic Registry. May it always be preserved.

The zoo is darling. It was a beautiful Fall day and a plus to visiting these places while playing hooky is that there are no crowds. In fact, when we visited the enclosure where we got to pet the goats we were the only goat gropers there. Fortunately, there was an employee who happened to be on the World's Fair Historic Society Board, and so was able to chat with me about some questions that I had about what was left from the fair... You cannot imagine how impressed she seemed every time I referenced the Judy Garland movie, Meet Me in St. Louis (I think the phrase: "Did you glean that information from the movie, too?" might have been asked of me a couple of times... which made me feel really smart.) While perhaps not rich in history, the movie is fun --  I watched it a lot as a kid and we watched it as a family the night before we left... the kids liked the little sister who sings the song about being drunk and leaves the fake body on the train tracks on Halloween. 

The bird aviary/flight cage is one of the last remaining structures from that 1904 fair. The Smithsonian built it and planned on taking it back to the National Zoo in DC after the fair, but the residents of St. Louis rallied and bought it. It was the impetus for creating the St. Louis Zoo. I took this picture from the little train that circles the zoo. Is there anything better than a train at a zoo -- getting to see the animals while sitting on one's behind?

The zoo is part of Forest Park, which is where the fair took place. In the park is the zoo, a Museum of History, a planetarium, and Museum of Art -- among other things. And all of it is free. We will definitely have to go to the museums on another trip. This time we just passed by and I took a picture of the main building of the Art Museum -- which is the only building (outside of something on the Washington University campus) that still exists from the fair. 

The World's Fair Pavilion was built from the proceeds from the fair in 1909. It overlooks the park where the fair took place, and it was conceived as a place where folks from the city could go and socialize and remember all that St. Louis offered to the fair, and all that the fair offered to St. Louis. At least that theme of pride of place and accomplishment and hosting was accurate in the movie!

Ding, ding, ding went the trolley. 

After driving around the park we went back to Delmar and ate at a place that specializes in gourmet macaroni and cheese, checked out an old trolley that they have parked, saw a picture of Chuck Berry ("He's the one who sings the other version of Route 66... only he doesn't look like that anymore."), and went into a really cool vinyl store where we each picked out a record for The Dad. I will have to say that The Girl's selection: The Korean Orphan Choir singing Christmas Music is definitely the crown jewel. Judd the Red Chicken picked out a bongo drum delight, and I went with some songs from Hawaii. 

Back to a different side of Forest Park where we parked at the planetarium. It's connected via a skybridge that goes over the freeway to the free Science Center. 

At the Science Center we learned about the importance of keystones. 

And that it's hard to be a hamster. 

I read something on a sign that made me think: it said that as climates change plants and animals must do one of three things -- adapt, migrate, or become extinct. As my kids grow up I understand for the first time how strange it is for parents to watch their children become independent. This is the first trip we've ever been on when my little guy and gal think it's okay to completely wander off and follow their own interests. I've had a lot of conversations with The Boy about how he's becoming his own man, but that brings with it some new responsibilities. The bathroom situation has been torturous. At each stop I've had to weigh out whether the environment seems safe to send him into the men's room alone, or see the humiliated look on his face when I make him come into the women's. I consider parents that I knew when I was young -- my own, my friends', people I babysat for -- and I thought how as we all got older and unconsciously changed the climate of our family they had to chose -- either to change with us and stay relevant, to kind of migrate into their own worlds as we migrated into ours, or to become rather nonexistent. It is something that all plants and animals do... as Mr. Rogers would say, it's simple and deep. 

We then drove downtown and checked into a new hotel that would put us closer to the next day's activities. We asked the concierge to recommend a restaurant and we walked out in a gentle rain to Bailey's Grange -- where they have excellent food and homemade ice cream.

 

While sitting there, upstairs next to a window, the heavens opened and the rain came down in torrents. Once again, we found ourselves practically alone in a restaurant. The atmosphere was beautiful and we felt so cozy and relaxed and free. They had a full page of speciality sodas, so seeing sarsaparilla and root beer listed in different categories, and determined to finally put it to rest which one we preferred, we ordered one of each and three glasses and had a taste test. The Boy and I voted sarsaparilla; The Girl root beer. And then we all got the giggles when we read on the sarsaparilla bottle that it's the "granddaddy of all root beer."  What the what?

We ran back in the pouring rain.