The Dreaded Peanut

Boy #2 went to a one-week basketball day camp with a friend of his last week. I went to sign him up the same day he started, so I had sent him with his own lunch even though the camp provides lunch. I just wasn't sure they'd have a lunch for him since we hadn't signed up in advance. I dropped him off, took the packet of information they gave me, and went home. I started reading the stack of papers. By page 3 I was already a little stressed out. He hadn't taken a backpack, just a water bottle and his lunch bag. Already we were not in compliance. Under the heading of BREAKFAST, on page 4, another reason to worry. "Your child should eat a healthy, nutritious breakfast." OK, in some cultures Trix IS considered nutritious, but probably not at this camp. The milk counts, though, I'm pretty sure. Then on page 10, I started to panic. LUNCH AND FOOD SERVICE: Please do not send your child to camp with peanut butter or any foods containing nuts or made with nut products. Please do not send "lunchables", sugary or junk foods, candy, soda, red or blue drinks, or glass containers. Such items will be confiscated if found. This section was in bold print AND was underlined. OK, so on his first day of camp he had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, contraband which would be confiscated if found. I immediately called the camp and confessed. The director went out to the playground to confiscate and destroy the offending sandwich. Boy #2 ended up eating the lunch they provided.

I just don't remember the peanut arousing such fear and horror when I was a kid. Peanut butter was the most common lunchbox item around. Now the peanut is banned in many schools. Some schools have peanut-free tables for the kids who are allergic. Many schools just ban the peanut because it is easier that way. What happened in 20 (OK maybe 30 or so years)? The peanut, so small, but so powerful, is feared everywhere. Next time maybe I'll just send a little baggie of Trix for lunch--oh--but that would break the zero-waste rule. Maybe if he eats a big enough breakfast he won't even NEED lunch. That could be the best idea of all....

What I Did On My Summer Vacation, Part Two

Bonjour my charming readers. I am now French. Mr. Minivan and I took advantage of the boys being at camp and hopped across the pond for about a week. We had a great time. I had never been to France before--I loved it! Can't wait to go back. I need to start smoking and learn to drink espresso to really fit in, though. Oh, and learn to ride a motorcycle or scooter. Everyone spoke at least some English, which was great, because I speak only about 6 words in French, and none of them are "Where's the ladies' room?" Our suitcases arrived a day after we did, so we were forced to shop a bit. Luckily, July is when one of the big "soldes" (sale) takes place. (The government regulates the soldes, which take place only in January and July) Unluckily, the dollar is very weak against the Euro. We bought just enough to get by till our stuff arrived. The stores were mobbed--a soldes is a big deal when it only comes twice a year, apparently. Armed with TripAdvisor and Chowhound info and recommendations, we went to the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, the Marais--where we stood in line for great falafel and schwarma. We walked and walked the neighborhoods and the Champs d'Elysee, ate fabulous baguette sandwiches on the street, and had a great time. We went to the South of France for a few days after Paris and drove all over. It was fabulous. I found all the people we met to be friendly and helpful. You can immediately tell who are the Europeans and who are the Americans. It's easy. The ones with the cigarettes are the Europeans. The ones lugging the large suitcases are the Americans. On the way back we stopped in London for the day. If you think France is expensive, go to England. You'll immediately feel much better about the Euro. Prices are similar to what you'd pay in dollars, but they are in pounds. Get it? One pound is worth 2 dollars. So 19 pounds for two drinks in a London hotel doesn't sound too bad....until you realize that is really $38. My 12 pound gin drink was the best $24 drink I've ever had. Actually, it's the only $24 drink I've ever had.

I am regarding this trip as my summer camp and in the words of Boy #2, "Next year I'm going for 8 weeks."

Au revoir, my lovely readers.

What I Did On My Summer Vacation, Part One

Boys #1 and 2 are away at camp and I hope they are having as much fun as I am. Since they've been gone I've slept in until 8 or 9 every day, gone on a long walk with some friends, gone out to lunch several times, gone to a 3:00 movie with my mom, and have barely looked at my watch. I've sangria-ed and gossiped with friends. I've shopped and returned and shopped and returned. I read for a whole afternoon the other day. The other night I watched 3 episodes of Top Chef back to back to back. I don't have to be home by 3:00. I don't have to worry about anyone else's lunch. I don't have to think about who will eat what for dinner. It is fabulous. I am enjoying this freedom so much I am actually considering boarding school. For the boys, that is. Ok, not really. I am back in my old room at my parents' house for a couple of weeks. It's like the home that time forgot here. It's as if technology has skipped right over this house. My computer is tethered to a wall, my room has no TV and barely a lamp. The cordless phones that I bought them last summer sound terrible so I am once again using a phone with an actual cord!! It's like stepping back in time to my high school days. I'm still borrowing the car, asking politely for the keys. Only now they can't tell me what time to be home! Actually, the other day my dad called up and asked me if I needed the car! It only took a week to get him perfectly trained. This town's small downtown is quiet and not crowded. It's sort of like a Stephen King novel--the town without children--what happened to them? They are all in Wisconsin and Michigan and other places, frolicking happily in the woods and the lakes. The parents, meanwhile, are frolicking back at home or maybe at Nordstrom or on their own summer vacations. I see other mothers I know and we all have that same smile on our faces. I miss my boys--I love checking out the camp website for daily photos--but truthfully, it's kind of fun to have this short bit of time to myself.

A Camping They Will Go

Boy #1 and Boy #2 are going to overnight camp soon and I am very busy getting everything ready. This will be Boy #2's first summer away at camp and he is very excited. He is going for 4 weeks and Boy #1 is going for 8 weeks. They will be going to the same camp and are both counting the days til they get on the bus. I am busy washing, labeling, shopping, and trying to keep all the details buzzing around my brain straight. My lists have lists. Boy #2 needs a soap container and Boy #1 needs new cleats. I have to remember to send Boy #1's extra pair of glasses. I've already packed the squishy pillows and their Crocs. My friend in Chicago bought powdered Gatorade (to add to their water in their cute--I mean manly--Nalgene bottles) for each of them. It is waiting for me to pick it up at her house. People backpack for months in Europe with less stuff than is on the camp list. And I'm sure a lot of it will never be used. I'm sending band-aids, a nail clipper, bug bite stuff, water shirts, cute camp stationery, and more. I know, I know--they're boys--they won't appreciate (or use) most of it. I can't help myself though. If I can't be there to take care of them at least they'll have band-aids and Neosporin.

Boy #2 has already asked if he can go for 8 weeks. "No," I said. "But, Mom," chimed in Boy #1 helpfully, "he can stay. When you come up for Visitors' Weekend, just bring money." It's so simple, really. Why didn't I think of that?

Forecast: Hot and Sunny

It has been very hot here for the last couple of days. 90 plus degrees hot. I never believed that heat and humidity stuff before but it is really true. It's not so much the heat as it is the humidity. 95 and humid in Chicago is just nasty. Steamy, sticky, sweaty, sucky. 95 and not humid in LA is....just plain hot. Verrrry hot. I know I feel much more at home here than I did a year ago but not completely because I still find myself thinking about "them" and how "they" do things here. I guess when I start thinking "we" instead of "they" the transformation will be complete. Anyway, it is very hot here. And here's what I've seen people wearing: Sweatshirts, long-sleeved shirts, jeans, and......Uggs. Yes. Uggs. Uggs and shorts on a 95 degree day. I had to restrain myself from going up to an Ugg-clad girl and asking her what her thought process was as she was getting dressed. I mean--what could it possibly be? "I'll wear my jean cut-offs and my flip-flops--no--too beachy. Maybe my wedge sandals---no---too dressy. I know, I'll wear my Uggs!!! They'll be perfect." I've also seen many many people carrying open umbrellas to shield them from the sun. I guess applying sunscreen is too much trouble. Another thing I've noticed that is different here than in Chicago is that people go to the movies on a beautiful day here. That doesn't happen in Chicago. I guess it is because every day is beautiful here. I am trying to think of things people do in Chicago that would seem strange to a newcomer but I can't think of any. Maybe that when there is a threat of a snowstorm people head for the grocery store to stock up as if they might be trapped in their houses for days. Can you think of anything a newcomer to your area might find strange?

The Honeymoon's Over

My parents have started taking me for granted. Yes, sad but true. I've been here for exactly 4 weeks and today I actually had to make Boy #2 breakfast!!. I know, it's shocking. I actually had to drag my butt out of bed and cook an egg for the kid. I will have to have a serious talk with my mother. I can't believe it's come to this. Does she not understand how things are supposed to work? Does she think she can just go on her merry way in the morning to her exercise class and shirk her duties at home? And my dad is not so innocent either. How can he get breakfast ready for Boy #2 if he's on the golf course? My parents really need to get their priorities straight.

The tables have certainly turned

When I was in high school and home from college, I was the one going out at night. My parents would caution me to be careful and ask where I was going. As I raced out of the house in search of fun, I remember sort of snickering at them, at home, watching TV. And in those days, remember, there were maybe 5 channels! Now, I realize, the tables have turned. I am "home" for the summer, living in my old bedroom, showering in the bathroom I shared with my three brothers, and deja-vu-ing all over again. My kids are going to camp here, one at overnight camp in Wisconsin, and one at day camp close by. Mr. Minivan is holding down the fort--sort of--in L.A., and I am having flashbacks of decades ago. Actually, it is very nice staying with my parents. In the morning I hear Boy #2 get up and then I hear the clink and clank of dishes and silverware. When I come downstairs he is all fed and ready for camp. I tell my mom I'm running out for a bit and come back 4 hours later and Boy #2 is busy and happy. It's sort of like having a live-in staff. It's fabulous. Except for the fact that the staff's social life seems to be booming. They go to plays, out to dinner, to baseball games, golfing, to bridge games, etc. Meanwhile, I'm totally caught up on Entourage and Extreme Makeover Home Edition. They are starting to cramp MY social life. I mean, I actually have to ask them if they will be home to stay with Boy #2 if I want to go out at night. Now I'm the one who waits up to hear their key in the door. And last night when they got home at midnight the second I heard their footsteps I yelled "go to bed" at them down the stairs. My dad asked me if I wanted to go out with them one night next week. I couldn't help it. I had to break it to him gently. "I'd love to, Dad," I said, "but you know my policy on socializing with the help."

Target got me again

It all started because of an egg crate mattress pad. Boy # 1 is going to overnight camp this summer and I wanted to get him a foam mattress pad to put on top of his flimsy little cot mattress. You know, so he'd be more comfortable. Like a 12 year old boy actually cares about stuff like that. Like the foamy egg crate mattress pad is actually going to come out of its wrapping. So I went to one of my favorite stores, Target, for the mattress pad, and a few other things. Well, $250 later, I am back at home, wondering what the hell just happened. I did get a few cleaning supplies, and a really cute workout outfit that I didn't try on--of which at least one piece will probably not be quite right, necessitating another trip to return--and probably make a few more purchases--and the cycle continues.

The masterminds at Target are brilliant, I must admit. Everything there is displayed so nicely. They always have something cute and new and colorful. You will for sure find something there that you never even knew existed yet you realize you need it desperately. Little colorful cubes of dishwashing detergent or cute straw dispensers that would look great on that table in your backyard that you've never served dinner on but probably would if you had a new set of brightly colored plastic plates and, of course, that straw dispenser. And don't forget the red and yellow containers for ketchup and mustard. One more task for your to-do list: "Somehow transfer ketchup and mustard to red and yellow containers." Yeah, right.

But Target and I have such a good relationship that I don't even feel guilty about today. I know we're meant to be together. We have a lot in common. We both like the same things. We've been down this road before, Target and I. I go there, spend a lot, do the drive of shame home, and enjoy my purchases. Then we take a little break from each other. And then, soon, before I even realize it, I'm back ready to do it all over again.