And for my next trick, I'll ruin Christmas

Talk about the road to Hell being paved with good intentions...

Mark's 9th birthday is coming up, and we've been discussing party plans. He wants a skating party like last year, even though I've suggested other new activities such as bowling, ice skating, you name it. Each suggestion was met with, "Maybe...no, I want a skating party."

Until I found a really cool place called Pump It Up. It's a party place filled with inflatables kids can jump on for two hours straight. It sounded perfect for a group of hyperactive 9-year-old boys! And it seemed even more perfect when I told them my party date, and they said they'd just had a rare cancellation.

"Usually, you need to book a party 3 to 4 months in advance," the woman told me. Come on, any place that requires booking that far ahead of time must be a blast.

I showed Mark the Web site, and he seemed all right with it. "OK," he said quickly. "I'll have my party there."

I asked if he was sure about it, and he said yes. "I have to call back today and put down a deposit," I warned. "So be sure!"

"I am!" he promised.

So I made the deposit, and finalized the plans. I was so excited to find a cool party place -- Mark can invite up to 25 kids, and adults are all free. I thought we were good.

Until I got home. Mark was sitting at the table when I casually mentioned that I had booked his birthday party at Pump It Up. He immediately burst into tears -- not exactly the reaction I was expecting.

"I wanted a skating party!" he wailed, and all I could think of was, "What the...?"

"You told me to book the party," I said. "You said you wanted to go here!"

"No, I said I wanted a skating party!" He wouldn't stop crying. He grew more and more upset, until he couldn't even talk, he was crying so hard.

So, great. Instead of Thoughtful Mother Who Planned the Perfect Birthday Party, I'm now the Mean Wicked Mother Who Ruined My 9th Birthday. (Guess I've given him more fuel for his tell-all Mommy Dearest book!)

Or, as I now like to call myself, Mean Wicked Mother Who's About to Lose Her $100 Deposit.

I know my sisters-in-law are much kinder souls, who all put their children's happiness first. I know all three of them would immediately cancel the party, take their kids out for ice cream, and apologize profusely for inflicting such stress upon them.

I, however, am a Dinsdale by birth (not marriage), which unfortunately means sometimes I think more like my brothers than like my sisters-in-law. And in this case, I reacted the same as my brothers would, which is to say, "It'll be fun, you'll like it, SUCK IT UP!"

I've never wanted to say suck it up more than I wanted to last night, but I bit my tongue instead. The dang kid kept crying, and I started thinking, Geez, I'm going to hear about ruining his birthday for the rest of my life!

But I'm still kinda mad about the whole thing. I mean, it's not like I picked a jail or work camp to hold his party -- I wouldn't have it somewhere he'd hate! I honestly thought he'd have a great time there -- he's always the first kid in the jump house whenever we see one, and the last kid out. I didn't purposefully pick a rotten party venue just because I hate roller skating parties (which I don't, for the record).

If he really wants a skating party, I guess I'll give in. However...I'm not giving up that $100 deposit without a fight!

"How about a compromise?" I asked. He finally stopped sobbing long enough to hear me out.

"What if we go to Pump It Up on Saturday and look around? If you absolutely hate it, I'll cancel the party." He wiped away his tears, and nodded.

So we're going on a field trip Saturday morning. And I'm sending out party invitations this weekend -- even though I'm not sure where the party will be!

Vroom vroom...

Occasionally, I feel bad that Mark's being raised by a single mom. I realize he loses out on "guy" things because, let's face it...I'm not an expert in things such as airplanes, cars, trains, video games, power tools, or other "manly" things. (But hey, Mark can gossip about celebrities with the best of 'em!)

This fact is most apparent in a little mother-humiliating exercise called the Pinewood Derby. Basically, you receive a square block of wood, a couple metal axles, four plastic wheels and instructions to turn said block of wood into a spiffy little race car.

For some people, that may be a fun challenge. I submit that those people are probably men, and most certainly have a garage full of power tools they use to do exactly that.

As you already know, I am not a man, and therefore the mere thought of transforming a block of wood into a race car is akin to creating a silk purse from a sow's ear. It's just not in my realm or any part of my universe. I simply looked at it and thought, "How the hell am I supposed to turn THAT into a car?"

If you think I'm being humble, consider last year's car. We had one day to shape and paint it, and here's what we came up with:

Yes, it's still a block. Yes, it's red, with blue glitter paint on it. Yes, it did have a Superman head glued on, so it looked like he was driving it (it's since fallen off). No, it didn't win any respect or any races, but it did win first place for creativity. (I credit Superman for that! And the glitter paint -- no other boy had that.)

This year, I was determined to do better by my son. I enlisted my dad, who's actually built Pinewood Derby cars before, and who was a wood shop teacher. I figured if he couldn't help, no one could.

I thought my dad would take Mark into the garage and emerge an hour later with a car. But I forgot that my father's a perfectionist, and that he's all about the details (skills Mark is completely unfamiliar with!). Instead, it took them almost two days to finish the car.

First, my dad gave Mark some Play-Doh to create a model of the car. My dad then drew the block on paper, and shaded lines to match the model, showing where he would cut the wood. It was pretty impressive.

My dad then took Mark into the garage. Sasha was visiting that day, and came rushing into the living room to tell me I had to come see something.

"Your dad is totally working Mark!" she cried. "He's sawing the car!" Now this I had to see.

Mark was indeed working hard on his car! He'd saw for a minute, then shake out his cramping hand, then saw another minute, then cough from the sawdust flying around. "Owww!" he'd say, shaking his hand, looking to Sasha and I for sympathy. My dad simply pointed to the car to make him focus.

Sash and I watched as long as we could without laughing. We escaped to the kitchen before we laughed out loud at poor Mark.

"I'm so glad Uncle Ralph's making Mark cut it, instead of using an electric saw," Sasha said. She told me a terrible story of her junior high shop class, where a girl cut off three fingers while using a table saw. "Who lets junior high kids use power tools?" she asked, appalled.

Just then, we heard the whir of a table saw in the garage! Sasha's eyes grew huge, and a horrified look spread across her face. "Uncle Ralph, what the hell!" she yelled, very concerned. We ran out to the garage together, where thankfully, my dad, not Mark, was using the saw.

Mark spent another hour sanding the car, and finally, my dad deemed it ready to paint. Mark thought my dad would hand him a can of paint, and Mark could spray away. He did not realize that painting, like everything else, comes with a lesson.

This time, my mom got involved, too. My dad showed Mark how to hold the can and spray evenly. My mom helped guide his hand as he sprayed two, then three, old egg boxes. Mark's from the Shortcut School of Learning, and was not much enjoying the structure.

Finally, my dad let him paint the car, and it turned out pretty good. I say "pretty good" because it was only the first coat. They let it dry and re-painted it three more times. Again, I was in awe of my dad's skills, and glad to have an expert around to help.

I think it was a really great experience for everybody involved (except maybe poor Sasha -- I think the table saw noise triggered some bad memories for her!). Mark got to hang out with my dad, my dad showed Mark patience and attention to detail, and I got a reprieve from the looks of pity when the other dads saw Marks glittery car. I would say it was an all-around win-win situation!

The only bummer was that we did, in fact, miss the Pinewood Derby, because we were in D.C. But I don't care -- we'll just use the car next year! And at least Mark now has one glitter-free car he can show off with his head held high.

Mr. Passive-Aggressive

Sometimes Mark spouts out whatever he's thinking, and his sassy mouth gets him in trouble. Other times, he gets his point across more subtly.

Last night, I was rushing around the kitchen, making dinner, and Mark kept getting in the way. I suggested that perhaps it was time for drum practice out in the garage. He disagreed. "I don't want to play my drums now!" he wailed.

I finally kicked him out of the kitchen. "PLEASE go find something to do!" I yelled. He stomped off angrily, feelings hurt.

We sat down to eat, and as soon as I stopped moving, I got a chill. "It's cold in here!" I noted. I went down the hall and turned up the thermostat.

After dinner, Mark brought out his new Diary of a Wimpy Kid book. It's a do-it-yourself book, where you can write stories or draw comics. Mark worked diligently on a story while I washed the dishes.

"Hey Mom," he called a few minutes later. "Wanna hear my story?"

"I'd love to," I answered, so he started reading aloud.

"Once there was the meanest mom in the whole wide world, " he started, then immediately stopped. "It's not about you," he said quickly, but as he read on, I had my doubts.

"Anyway...there was the meanest mom in the whole world, and she was always cold. " He shivered for affect.

"The meanest mom was so mean that she waited for everyone to go to sleep, and then she started playing the drums. She played the drums at 2 o'clock in the morning and woke everyone up. She didn't even care, she was so mean. The end." He smiled proudly at me.

Let's see...I kicked him out of the kitchen, talked about drums and being cold, but this story was not about me, huh? Suuuuuure.

Oh well, Mommy Dearest-type books are usually quite popular. Maybe I'm not really being mean at all; perhaps I'm just giving my son a writing career, and lots of stories to include in his tell-all book.

And maybe someday, I won't have to just hear him grouse about my mothering mistakes; instead, they'll be immortalized on the New York Times bestseller list, and I can read all about them.

Or maybe I'll just play the drums at 2 a.m. tonight and see how little Mr. Passive-Aggressive likes that!

I'm an evil genius, part 2

Mark feeds our cats every night. Lately, he's been lazy, spilling canned food onto the counter and not cleaning it up (so gross!).

I've asked him to clean up but he just shrugs it off. So, tired of nagging, I came up with a solution.

A couple nights ago, I asked him to clean up. He did not. As soon as he went to bed, I wiped down the counter myself.

The next morning, I called him into the kitchen. I talked to him while making his sandwich on the very same counter.

After feeding the cats that night, I reminded him again to wipe down the counter.

"I did," he told me, though I knew he hadn't.

"Oh good," I replied, kissing him on the head. "Because that's where I make your lunch. I wouldn't want any cat food on your sandwich!"

He immediately stiffened up, remembering I'd made his lunch on that spot. (He didn't know I'd wiped it clean.)

"I thought you make my lunch on the cutting board," he said.

"Well, the counter's clean, right?" I asked. "Since it's next to the bread box, I just make it there."

Silently, he moved to the sink, and returned with a sponge, wiping up the area.

Haven't had to ask him to wipe down the counters since.

He's definitely got an opinion

Mark is a funny little kid. He's very opinionated, and sometimes, like this morning, those opinions catch me off guard.

We were walking to school and he noticed my black shoes. He makes the same comment every time I wear these shoes.

"Those look like men's shoes," he told me matter-of-factly.

"You say that every time I wear them," I replied.

"Well, they do," he insisted.

I let it go. I hadn't had my coffee yet; it was too early to argue.

But he kept going.

"I said, they DO look like men's shoes."

I smiled. "I heard you," I said.

Silence for five or six steps.

"Are they men's shoes?" he asked. He is nothing if not persistent.

"No," I answered. "They are women's shoes. I know you think they're men's shoes; you are entitled to your opinion. I'm not going to change your mind, so think what you'd like about them."

We walked on, again in silence. I knew he was still thinking about it, so I let him. The only thing he hates more than being wrong is not being able to argue a point. He can't stand it when I end a conversation without letting him be right. (He'll make a fine husband to some lucky girl someday!)

"I think they are men's shoes. You probably bought them in the men's department," he said (he was with me when I bought them -- in the women's department!). And then his voice changed from questioning to authoritative. "They are men's shoes," he said. "Have fun at work wearing men's shoes." And then he skipped off to school on his own.

I swear, I don't know where that kid gets it. He's never sure what 6 x 4 is, but apparently, he is an expert on shoes. And once he makes up his mind, nobody is gonna change it!

Hello from the top of the world!

OK, maybe not really the top of the world, but definitely the top of Washington -- the Washington Monument, that is!

Our luck was a LOT better today. We got our groove back. We took that groove back to the Mall, which today, was completely empty, save for the construction guys breaking down all the tents and moving all the portapotties. There were virtually no tourists in sight.

Today's agenda included a trip to the top of the Washington Monument, something I never did while I actually lived in D.C. My mom was kind of nervous about going up, but she plucked up her courage and did it. (Good job, Mom!)

I wasn't nervous at all, until we got into the elevator, and the ranger told us the Monument is made of freestanding marble blocks simply stacked atop each other, and nothing else. No wires, no bars, nothing holding it in place except gravity and a little mortar (and the mortar works more like caulk than like cement). Then he warned us not to lean on the blocks once we got up top, and then I really felt nervous! I'm a native Californian, so my first thought regarding a tower of freestanding blocks was, "Wow, that would fall really quickly in an earthquake!"

The view from the top was spectacular! Definitely the best in the city. We looked one way, and saw Arlington Cemetery, Lincoln Memorial, and the Reflecting Pool. Looked another and saw the White House and Commerce Department. Turned again and saw the Capitol, the Mall, and all the Smithsonians. And then, with a final turn, we saw the Tidal Basin and the Jefferson Memorial. It was amazing -- we went to all the windows and views twice.



By the time we descended, it was lunch time. We took the Metro to Dupont Circle, and stumbled upon a little itty bitty restaurant claiming it had the best crabcake sandwiches in Washington. Well, I couldn't pass that by! We had a fabulous waitress who was so kind and sweet, and insisted we all try the seafood soup. Who were we to disagree?

We jumped back on the Metro for our final D.C. outing -- a trip to the National Zoo. It's in a beautiful park, and like all the other Smithsonian Museums, it's free. (I love that!)



We sauntered down the path, stopping to admire a cheetah. We got a little nervous when we realized that it was sitting across a small field from us, but could easily jump over the fence and across the frozen pond to get us if it really wanted to. Luckily for us, he was content to lie in the sun and soak up some rays.

Next up were the pandas. We saw two of them lazing in their habitats, and a third one pounding on the gate to his inside enclosure. Nobody ever let him in, but it didn't dissuade him -- he walked away a bit, then returned to pound some more.

The next stop was the Panda shop, where you could buy anything you've ever wanted with a panda on it. They even had some journals and stationary which proudly proclaimed they were made from recycled panda poop. I drew the line at that -- I'll be coming home panda poop-free.

Mark lost all interest in the live animals once he'd convinced his Grandma to buy him a stuffed one. I tried dragging him down the hill to look at more animals, but he didn't really care. I settled for the elephant house, which also had a hippo, a pygmy hippo and a couple capybaras.

And then it was back to the Metro, for our last ride. Our Inaugural 2009 trip drew to a close, and I felt it with every step on and away from the Metro. Over dinner, we discussed all our activities, and what we all liked best. The swearing-in ceremony was first (a given), but after that, Mom's favorites were the funeral procession (because it was so moving), and Mark's was the Lincoln Memorial. Mine was hard to choose -- I had such a blast at them all! I think I liked the Washington Monument, but mostly, I just liked returning to the city I called home a long time ago. It was fun to see all the sites that had once been part of my daily life, and fun showing them all to Mark. I took him to my favorite restaurant and showed him my old Metro stop and apartment. I told him all the stories and anecdotes I could remember, like the time Kelley and I sat in the middle of the frozen Reflecting Pool and some guy skied by us and said hi.

I got to show him a part of me that existed a long time ago, and I got to share my love of this beautiful city. (I also shared it with my mom, who lived through it with me the first time.) And I got to give Mark a piece of his own history, something wonderful that he can carry in his heart, and share fondly whenever someone asks, "Where were you when the first African-American President was sworn in?" His answer will probably be that he was staring at the back of some guy's jacket trying not to get crushed, but hey, he was here, and even if he doesn't remember it forever, my mom and I will. And really, what could be a better vacation than that?

A day full of challenges

We were dragging a bit this morning -- not sure if it's the time difference or all the walking, but we started reluctantly today. (On Inauguration Day, some guy walked past us and growled, "I walked across the whole effin' city today!" That's kinda how we felt. ;-)

When we finally did start, we ran into a few (OK, more than a few!) challenges. We almost missed our Capitol tour because we couldn't find any parking at two different Metro stations. We panicked, but then noticed a long row of empty metered spaces. We raced off to a nearby bank and bought some quarters. Cost us twice as much to park, but we're on vacation, and didn't care. (Convenience trumped frugality today.)

We made it to the Capitol about 10 minutes late, but thanks to our reservations, the lady gave us a badge for the 10:30 tour. Boy, were we relieved!

The tour starts in the brand-spanking new $621 million Capitol Visitors Center. It was GORGEOUS! It took six years to build, and just opened last month. Talk about good timing! It was huge, marble everything, and spacious enough for the hundreds of visitors waiting in line. They led us into a beautiful theatre, with a rich wood ceiling and tons of seats, where we watched a movie about the Capitol building and how it was built.

Then it was onto the tour. We received headsets, which amplified the tour guide's voice. My mom's headset broke five minutes into the tour, so she swapped with Mark, who wasn't listening anyway. He was more interested in taking multiple pictures of everything.

The Capitol is so beautiful, inside and out. It's like a treasure box -- a beautiful piece of art with even more beautiful artwork inside. We went into the breathtaking rotunda and stared up at George Washington ascending into heaven.

Next, we moved onto a couple smaller rotundas with gorgeous chandeliers, and in keeping with our "day late and a dollar short" theme, ended up in the Hall of Statues, where President Obama (I love saying that!) held his Inaugural lunch on Tuesday. I was excited to find the California state statue -- Father Junipero Serra. (I was on a "mission" to find him.)

After the tour, my mom made it very clear that she was hungry and someone would die if she wasn't fed pronto (and it wasn't gonna be her). We ate in the Visitor's Center cafeteria, where I encouraged my mom to order the bean soup. She refused. Two minutes later, I heard another lady request it.

"We don't have any," said the cook.

"What?" asked the woman. "Do you get a lot of requests for it?"

"Every day!" replied the exasperated cook.

"Then you should make it!" the woman told him, and I thought she had a pretty good point.

Our plan for the afternoon was to visit the remaining memorials we've missed; namely, the Jefferson and Lincoln Memorials. So we left the Capitol building, and noticed a few protesters over at the Supreme Court. We wondered what was going on, but didn't really give it much thought.

Until we saw the Capitol police squadron come outside. Even then, we thought, "Oh, look, it's the police changing of the guard." (Yes, we think we're very clever.)

Then we noticed another platoon of police officers across the street, and we realized maybe something more than a little protest was going on. Turns out there's a huge Pro-Life march that's held after every Inauguration and guess what -- it was our lucky day!

All political beliefs aside, I'm just gonna say I dislike the Pro-Lifers very much, because man, did they mess up our afternoon! We sat at the Capitol Building Tourmobile bus stop waiting patiently, and watching the number of protesters grow and grow. We waited an awfully long time for a bus, so I called Tourmobile, only to find the Capitol stop was closed this week due to all the "activities." (Hi, a little sign at the bus stop might be nice!) The lady recommended we walk over to the Air and Space Museum to catch the bus.

And that's when we really saw how big the protest was! The streets were all closed off, and the Mall was packed. Somebody said that 30,000 people come to town for the protest. It sure looked like that many.

We never did find our bus at the museum, because the street was closed off. So we hiked on down to the next stop, about 30 yards from where we'd watched the Inauguration. We got there just in time to watch the Tourmobile we'd searched 90 minutes for drive off. At least the driver was nice enough to wave at us as he drove by, refusing to stop.

Well, I am not proud to admit it, but the next 15 or 20 minutes did not go so well. I perhaps taught my son a few new bad words, and I will admit that I wasn't exactly the shining example of courtesy. My mom has plenty of experience with grumpy Dinsdales not reacting well to stressful situations, and she took this moment to step aside and ignore me. (She is a wise woman.)

Finally, another Tourmobile appeared, and drove us to the Jefferson Memorial. This time it was Mark's turn to melt down, so I doubt he'll remember much of ol' Mr. Jefferson.

The next Tourmobile showed up in just enough time to drop us off at the Lincoln Memorial. "Don't worry," the driver told us, "Another bus will be back in half an hour." (I think it was an invisible bus, because we never saw it.)

Mark and I raced up the stairs to see Honest Abe. Doesn't matter how many times you see it, he's still impressive. Mark was all excited to take a picture with a five-dollar bill showing the Memorial.

I also took him to see the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Wall. He was very interested in that, and in reading some of the notes left behind. He asked me why wars start (since wars -- English, Civil, and otherwise -- are discussed and memorialized relentlessly in this city), and I couldn't really give him a good answer.

He liked the Wall, but said he didn't love it. "It was too quiet," he said, and I reminded him the quiet is just being respectful. Poor guy, he visited a lot of "quiet" places this week, and he was a trooper.

A Park Ranger told my mom the closest Metro stop was about 7 blocks away, so we decided to hoof it up there. Turned out to be a little bit further, but this time, we just chalked it up to our Challenging Day.

We returned to Virginia and went out to dinner, where the waitress promptly gave me the wrong meal, then charged me twice for it. At that point, my mom said, "It goes along with all our other challenges today!" We decided that we'd had enough, and we'd better get ourselves home, away from the general public. We just couldn't take any more crazy things coming our way!

So the bad news is, our luck was a bit off today. But the good news is, we overcame it and still had a great day. We toured the Capitol, the Memorials, and didn't even let 30,000 protesters trying to ruin our day succeed. As we've learned this week, D.C. was founded on battles. And today, we emerged victorious from ours.

Today was a little bit calmer

After all of yesterday's excitement, we took it easy today (for us, anyway).

We slept in late, and enjoyed it a lot. Then we were on our way, boarding the Metro bound for Arlington Cemetery. Yesterday's funny moment was provided by my Mom hopping the fence. Today was Mark's turn. He was so excited to get off the train, he ran for the exit without looking. He reached a pole before he reached the exit, smacking face first into it. (It's okay to laugh -- he wasn't hurt, just momentarily stunned.)

Arlington Cemetery was beautiful. It's just so breathtaking to see all those headstones lined up like soldiers at attention. We stopped to see John Kennedy's grave and the Eternal Flame, as well as the amazing view from the plateau there. Next was the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, where Mark watched, fascinated, as a Marine marched exactly 21 steps, stopped for 21 seconds, turned and marched back another 21 steps. ("I counted twice," Mark said.)


That was impressive in itself. But as we loaded onto the waiting Tourmobile bus, we saw something even more impressive. "We'll wait here a few minutes," the driver told us. "As you know, Arlington is a working cemetery, and we have a funeral procession coming by."

I thought he meant funeral procession as in the departed's family and friends driving over to the grave site. So I sat there, staring idly out the window, admiring the view and waiting patiently. Suddenly, I heard a thump thump thump, and over the hill marched a set of four Marines, each playing a drum.

Wow, I thought, how nice. But that wasn't the end of it. Soon, a wave of Marines appeared right after, in their dress blues, with guns hoisted upright on their shoulders. There was a whole bunch of them -- at least 60, and they kept marching on, more and more of them. It looked like a whole platoon of them (or regiment, or whatever large group it is that Marines travel in).

Right behind them was a group of white horses, six of them, pulling a cart with a flag-draped casket on it. The riders held flags aloft as they rode. That was really breathtaking -- an American hero on their way to a final resting place.

Finally, behind all the Marines and the casket was a single black riderless horse. I think that symbolized the fallen soldier. The horse was followed by the family, walking behind the cart, dressed in very somber black clothes.

It was the most moving thing I've seen. I wish I could share pictures of the beautiful sight, but photos would've seemed intrusive.

After the funeral procession passed, the Tourmobile headed down the hill. We changed buses, riding over to the Lincoln Memorial. But we changed our plans almost immediately -- our stomachs were grumbling. Instead, we rode the Tourmobile until we saw another amazing sight -- the White House. We learned that there used to be a big fence along the perimeter -- to keep cattle, not people, out! (Apparently, the President didn't like animals grazing on the White House lawn.)

The bus driver said that if we hadn't eaten lunch yet, there were some good restaurants nearby, including the Old Ebbits Grill. We'd heard lots about the Old Ebbits Grill -- it hosts tons of Senators and Congresspeople, and is a famous political hangout. It's the place to go if you like politics -- sort of a political rock star hangout.

We walked a couple blocks up the street until we found it. It was mid-afternoon, about 3 o'clock, and there was no line. We got a table right away. It was warm inside, so we were very happy (it was about 20 degrees again today -- really cold!).

My mom and I decided to order two entrees and split them. We chose a lobster roll and the crabcakes, and I think it was the best decision we've made all week! They were AWESOME! The crabcakes came with a side of yams au gratin, or something similar--really, they were just baked yams smothered in butter. We sat there for an hour, savoring every last bite, and then topped it off with an order of ice cream sliders. We had a loooong leisurely lunch -- about two hours, and enjoyed every moment of it.

It was almost dark by the time we left. We bought a couple souvenir buttons outside, then realized we were outside a political stuff store -- you could buy ANYTHING Obama, including sweatshirts, buttons, towels, posters, glasses (shot and water). You name it, they had it, with Obama embossed on it somewhere. And the store was PACKED (and heated!). There were at least 20 people in each line, and they weren't buying a button or two -- they were spending $100, $200 on memorabilia. And of course, they were just as kind and friendly as they've been the past few days, talking to each other in line, and asking over and over again, "Isn't this the most incredible week ever?"

The best part of the store was that we accomplished another mission. My mom really wanted a picture with new President Barack Obama, and this was our chance. Here they are:


The funniest part was that as my Mom stood up from the picture, she knocked over President Obama, and everyone yelled out, "Oh no!" They reacted like she'd knocked over the real President, not a carboard cutout of him! I pretended not to know her, and said, "Oh, she didn't mean to!" But God likes to laugh at me, and wanted to prove that in our family, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. The moment I stood up after my picture, I did the same thing, and also knocked the President over.

Our bellies full and pockets empty, we left the building. We wandered over to the White House, which was lit up, but hidden behind all the parade bleachers. We saw the big protective bubble the President and First Family sat in last night to watch the parade, and took pictures in front of it. (We've spent our whole trip a day behind the President, saying, "President Obama was here yesterday!")

And that was our low-key day. We saw some cool stuff, and still managed to take it somewhat easy. But again, we had another spectacular day. I thought all the days would be a let-down after Inauguration Day, but boy, was I wrong. Each day just keeps getting better.

Finally, the Inauguration -- What a day!!!

Wow, I am sitting here exhausted, just trying to process this whole day. What a crazy, amazing, unforgettable day.

It started off early -- we woke up at 5:30, because we didn't want to miss a single moment. We were the second Metro stop, but by the time the train rolled in, it was already full! The seats were all taken, and everybody at our stop filled in the middle. I wasn't sure how they were going to fit in any more people, but I soon found out -- not easily!

At each stop, more people shoved on in, but I have to say it again -- as crowded as the city's been, I've never seen such happy people! Doesn't matter where you go, or what you do, everyone is smiling and polite and just nice. They are so happy to be here, so happy to be part of this, that it's impossible to get mad at anything.

And so we stood on the Metro train, watching people squeeze into an unbelievably small amount of space. Each station we pulled into was crammed, some stations so full, the train simply didn't open the doors. The 30-minute ride we took yesterday dragged on to an hour and a half, but nobody seemed to care. Instead, they spent the time laughing, singing, and taking pictures of the huge crowd, both on the trains and in the stations.

Our final stop was so jam packed, they passed it by. Unfortunately, so were both the stops before it. We had to decide whether to get off at an earlier or a later stop, and opted for the later one. Here's what it looked like after the train emptied out:

And did I mention the people were happy? Including the Metrorail employees! One funny woman kept chanting over the speaker, "Keep it moving, keep it moving!" The crowd responded, chanting it back to her, and to each other. And move they did, politely, apologizing when they stepped on you, and even clearing a path for Mark and my Mom.

"Let the baby through!" they shouted when they saw Mark. "Look out for the baby!" My Mom loved that, and maneuvered her "baby" through the crowd unharmed.

The people poured out of the station and into the streets. "Blue and silver ticket holders this way!" shouted one cop, so we followed her directions. One very excited young man found out we had silver tickets like him, and glommed onto us. He was jubilant, and kept shouting, "It's here, people! The day we've been waiting for is here! O-BA-MA!" He surveyed the crowd and said, "Wow, there's a lotta people here -- it's like March of the Penguins!" (Not exactly how I'd have described it, but to each his own.)

When we got to the bottom of Capitol Hill, we encountered the first line of ticket holders. We could see people in line forever -- we never did find the end of that line. Not only that, the line snaked back and forth, doubling itself up in some places. It was for the Blue ticket holders. By now, it was 9:20 a.m. Security had opened 8, but nobody was moving -- the line was completely still. We searched for signs or police officers pointing to our gate, the Silver gate, but never saw them. And we certainly couldn't find the Silver ticket line.

It was pure chaos and total control all at once. The Blue ticket holders stood in line patiently, letting people cut across the line, or pointing them toward some vague end of the line. But everyone else wandered the area aimlessly, looking for the Mall, or the Silver ticket line. There were no police or volunteers helping out, so we wandered through the masses for another 45 minutes before we finally found the Silver ticket line.

"I've never been so happy to find a line before!" I told my Mom, but my joy was short lived. People in the Silver line pointed behind them to the end, so we followed along the line (along with a huge group of people), looking for it. I am not kidding when I say we followed the line for about a mile and a half, walking at least half an hour before coming to it. It was now 10:10, and we heard the music beginning. We started to panic a little.

My Mom finally found a volunteer and asked if there was any way we'd get into the Mall if we got into our line. "No," she said bluntly. "Not in time to see him sworn in -- you'll never make it through security in time."

And so we received our first blow. "Well, I'm just happy to be here," my Mom said. "Whether we see it or not, I'm just glad to be here." I agreed. We immediately scrapped our plans for using the tickets, and decided to find our way onto the Mall -- anywhere -- somehow.

After a short stop at the African Museum to heat up and use the bathrooms, we rejoined the crowd. It was just an amazing sight -- all the streets were closed to traffic, and just filled with people. People on the sidewalks, ticket holders in line, people in line for the portapotties, vendors hawking t-shirts and buttons. Just people everywhere.

We found another guard and asked what our options were. She didn't shoot down our Mall plans, but did tell us that the Mall was almost full, and they were closing up all the entrances. "They've closed the 14th Street entrance, but the one at 23rd Street's still open," she said.

"What street are we on now?" I asked. (We had no idea where we were!)

"Seventh," she said, apologetically.

What else could we do but keep on walking? We headed down Independence Avenue toward 23rd Street.

The weird thing was, we didn't really mind. Sure, we were bummed our tickets didn't work out. But if you could have felt the electricity, the simple joy, that reverberated in the streets, you'd understand. We'd traveled across the entire country to be here, and even if our original plans didn't work out, it wouldn't slow us down.

Well, not quite. We did worry a bit when we hit a mob near 12th Street. It was now 11 a.m. (the ceremony started at 11:30), and people were panicking. "What do you mean, the entrance is closed?" one man asked a guard. "They close each entrance just as I get to it!"

That did not sound encouraging. But there was no way we were gonna miss out! We walked a couple streets further, until we got to 14th street. There was a wall next to us, and a fence beyond that. We could see tons of people back there, walking about freely. All I could think of was how long it was gonna take us to get through security when (if) we made it to 23rd Street.

Suddenly, a group right next to us yelled, "Let's jump the wall!" We watched most of them go over pretty easily, and I looked at my mom. "Wanna jump the fence?" I asked, and to her credit, she never even hesitated.

"Yes," she said. "Let's go."

It was hilarious. One girl was having trouble getting over the wall, and proclaimed, "I can't do it! I don't wanna do it!"

"Then can you move aside?" I asked her, not really waiting for her answer. I was halfway up and all the way over by the time she moved away.

We had to hurry. To say security was tight is an understatement, and I didn't come this far to get separated from my family at this moment. (And I really didn't want to watch the swearing in from jail!)

"Come on, Mom, push Mark over the fence!" I called out. Before I could finish the sentence, she was shoving him over.

And then she was coming over herself. "Step here, Mom, use this part like a ladder," I said. I was worried the Mall police would appear, but instead of the police, two really nice guys grabbed her arms and pulled her over. In less than two minutes, all three of us were on the Mall, without the hassle of a security check. (Besides Obama being sworn in, watching my mom scale a fence was definitely a highlight!)

We passed a family, the dad photographing his group of five little kids. They had huge smiles, and when he clicked the picture, he told them, "Say Obama!" instead of "Say cheese!" They obliged, yelling out "Obama!" proudly.

But now the program was really starting. We muscled our way through the crowd, and found a final resting place. We were smack dab in the middle of a crowd so thick, you couldn't move, because if you did, someone else absorbed your space. Yet, again, they were unfailingly polite, and again, they all watched out for "the baby" so that Mark didn't get crushed. We could see the swarms of people at the base of the Washington Monument -- it was, again, unbelievable how many people there were! (Yes, unbelievable was the word of the day.) We couldn't see much, not even a full view of the Jumbotron screens, but it didn't matter.

We talked to a few people with great stories -- one family had driven up five hours from Alabama that morning, another had come from Tennessee. They had brought all of their family members -- kids, parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles. Everyone was so excited, and though they couldn't see the screen, just a rumor of Obama appearing onscreen sent them into overdrive. "Did they say Obama?" "Is he there?" they asked, excitedly, breaking into cheers. One woman who could actually see the screen narrated for the rest of us. "He's getting into the limo," she'd say. "Now they're driving up the street."

One woman beside me was really funny. She (like most everyone else) had been there a good five to six hours already, and it was starting to show. "I'm HUNGRY!" she said loudly, and heads all around nodded in agreement.

I'd just fished out a snack for Mark, and I offered her one as well. She shook her head, politely declining. "Thanks, but I need more than a snack -- I need some LUNCH! There should be a buffet for us common folk!" The musical interlude began, and my neighbor started singing along.

"Do you know this song?" I asked (because I didn't).

"No," she said. "I'm just trying to forget about being hungry!"

There was a tiny Tourmobile booth behind us, and people were scaling the roof to sit atop it. At one point, there were so many people on it, I thought the roof might crash, but it held. A CNN camera man even climbed on up, where he filmed us waving and cheering wildly. He didn't want to get caught, so he'd wave at us to quiet down, and we did. "We don't need police with guns to control this crowd," I told my Mom. "Just camera men pointing cameras!"

People were sitting on top of portapotties, on signs, even in a coupla trees -- whatever they could shimmy up for a better view.

It was also quite evident which way their political beliefs leaned. Anytime George Bush was mentioned, they booed -- quite loudly. And not just the people around me, but people all along the Mall. You could hear it echoing along the sound system, until it reached us in the back. They even booed Laura Bush and Lynn Cheney, though not as loudly as for their husbands.

Jimmy and Rosalyn Carter appeared, then Bill and Hillary Clinton, and the crowd cheered. George Bush appeared, and again, the booing started, followed by an enthusiastic round of "Na na na na, na na na na, hey hey hey, goodbye!" (We heard that song more than once throughout the day.) People really did not like him.

Rick Warren gave the invocation, and because he is so controversial, I thought the crowd would be more vocal about him (they were about everyone else). He said his part, but what really moved my Mom was when he started saying the Our Father, and everyone joined in. It was pretty moving to hear 2 million people praying together (and I'm not even religious!).

The Vice President-elect appeared, and was sworn in. People were happy, but you could tell they were waiting for the Man of the Hour to appear.

And when he was announced...well, I don't know quite how to describe it. The crowd, simply put, went wild. They were cheering and screaming and yelling and I even heard a couple Hallelujahs. No one around me could actually see the new President, not even on the big screen, but it didn't matter. They cheered and wept and I really felt, at that moment, I was in a moment bigger than even the humongous sea of people along the Mall.

Senator Obama was sworn in and became President Obama, and the crowd cheered yet again. "At last!" a man behind me yelled, and a thousand heads around me nodded and cheered in agreement.

Boy, was it loud. The noise of all those happy people was impressive, but what moved me even more was the silence. Throughout the ceremony, people had chattered to each other. But when President Obama took the microphone, all that stopped. Suddenly, where there was tittering and talking among 2 million people, now there was only silence. He commanded their silence. They listened to him intently, shushing people around them (even though no one else was talking) so that every person could hear every word. Clearly, they all realized what a momentous occasion this was, and no one wanted to miss one word of it. That was just remarkable to me.

It really was an inspirational moment. Even when it ended, the crowd was riding high. A really nice older lady who'd stood beside us silently asked where we were from.

"California," I told her, and she nodded.

"Have a safe trip back home," she told us, and I wished her the same. I just couldn't get over the kindness of all these strangers -- but that day, no one really felt like strangers.

The crowd tried leaving the fenced off area, but couldn't find a way out, and just stopped. "Hey, guy in the tree, which way is the exit?" someone shouted, and the guy obliged by pointing in the opposite direction. "Go that way!" he called, so the crowd surged to the right.

That's when it got kinda scary. We followed the mob up Independence Avenue, and again, they moved quietly, happily, making room for each other. There were a few bad seeds (always are) who pushed and shoved, and at one point, I thought Mark might get crushed. I turned into Mama Bear, and told a grown man to back up or he was gonna squish my son. Some women walking by called out, "Happy happy, joy joy," reminding the crowd it was a joyous day, and not to let any bickering get us down. (As soon as Mark was safe, I returned to Happy Heather.)

For the most part, it was okay. At one point, we bunched up at a corner by the Metro station. There were no police in the street, no one directing traffic, except some man who was determined to drive a tour bus through the huge mass of people. No one moved for a good 20 minutes, and the crowd got a little restless, then more so when they noticed another bus next to us was filled with lounging police officers. They sat there on break, watching, even photographing the crowd from the bus, and people became pretty agitated. "Hey officers, why don't you come out of the bus and help direct traffic?" they shouted. I really did panic a little then -- we were so smashed against one another you couldn't even move, and if the crowd turned, it would be very dangerous, especially for Mark. But the police never did come out of the bus. One jumped on top trying to direct the crowd, but it was hopeless -- he needed all the other officers. The only volunteers we saw were later on -- wearing vests that said "Girl Scout Volunteers."

So my Mom did what she does occasionally, when need be -- she pulled out the D card. "Please let us through!" she said. "My grandson has diabetes, and we need to check his blood sugar RIGHT NOW!"

People weren't quite sure what that meant, but hearing "diabetes" and "right now" spurred them into action, and they let us cut through. It was still pretty hairy, but a few minutes later, we found an empty bench in front of the Sackler Gallery and breathed a sigh of relief. This was definitely NOT the place for anyone with even the slightest claustrophobic tendencies. It was very scary, especially after having spent the rest of the day smushed in the crowds.

We ate lunch, some sandwiches we'd packed and brought with us. Our hands were freezing, so popped open the disposable hand warmers we'd brought. Turns out, they take 15 minutes to heat up, so the three of us kept asking each other, "Is yours hot yet?" or saying, "The right one's hot, no wait, the left one's hotter!" We were cracking ourselves up with those dumb heaters!

Finally, we just went back into the African Museum to warm up again. (It was MUCH colder today than it was yesterday -- windy, and SUPER cold! But the one good thing about being in the crowds is that you didn't feel cold.) There wasn't anyone inside the first time, but now it was packed. People were lounging everywhere, thawing out from the cold, napping on the floor, waiting out the throngs overtaking the Metro stations. They weren't even putting up the pretense of looking around the museum -- they were just splayed around the exhibits, or asking where the bathrooms were.

After we were warm, we left, and found a little outside fair at L'Enfant Plaza. My mom was buying souvenirs, and a vendor from the next booth asked where I was from.

"California," I answered again, and he grabbed my hand into both of his.

"Thank you for coming," he said very earnestly. "How was the ceremony?" He explained that they couldn't hear it outside of the Mall, so I gave him my review. I told him what moved me the most was the silence, when almost 2 million people stopped talking so that they could hear the new President's every word.

"Wow," he said, shaking his head. "That's so cool."

He shook my hand again, and thanked me for visiting his city. I just loved that -- there was such a feeling of inclusion -- by everyone, for everyone. This wasn't just one city's celebration, or even one political party's -- it was the nation's, and no matter where you came from, no matter what you looked like, or believed in, you were welcomed, literally, with open arms.

We gathered our souvenirs and headed for the Metro. The Inauguration had ended two hours ago, and on the other side of the Mall, the parade had started 30 minutes earlier. We thought we were safe, that the crowds would've died down, but again, we were wrong -- there was a huge mob in front of the Metro station, pouring out into the street. Nobody was moving at all, and worse, there were Army guys perched above. We weren't sure if they were preventiative or if they were controlling the crowd before it got unruly, but we didn't want to find out. We immediately walked on, hiking up toward the Capitol South station.

Capitol South was equally crowded, and our hopes of ever going home were waning. "Let's keep going toward Eastern Market," I told my mom. That was my station when I used to live in D.C., and I thought it would be less crowded.

Which it was. I was exhausted by the time we got there -- we'd spent most of the day walking, sometimes two and three hours at a time, without stopping. (I'd say we spent a total of six hours today just walking, trying to get to or from the Mall or Metro.) But luckily, the station wasn't mobbed, and we actually got seats this time. One girl cracked me up, saying the whole event was a little bit Katrina-ish. "There were no trains, no police," she said. "There were only Girl Scouts!"

And so we finally returned home, almost 12 hours after we'd left. It was a long day -- it was dark when we left the house, and it was almost dark when we returned home. We were exhausted, hungry, and not wanting to see another group of people for a long time, but it was all a happy exhaustion. Throughout the crowds, and challenges, we spent the day laughing, and having a really fun time. Mark was a trooper -- he spent the day being pushed, prodded and pulled back, and he never once complained. (Honestly!) He did so great -- I don't know how much of it he really absorbed -- he spent most of the time staring at the back of people's jackets, but he still went on without complaint. He was awesome.

And my Mom...what can I say, except that we had a blast. There were certainly times when I was tired and frustrated and could've lost it, which instead, turned into funny moments we laughed about instead. We cracked up the whole day, and even after dinner, reliving the whole day.

So that's the report. Crowded, but inspirational and very moving. We may not have gotten into our ticketed section, but it didn't dampen our spirits at all. We still had the best time ever, and have really enjoyed talking to all the wonderful people we've met these past few days.

We made it!

That's right, we're here in D.C. and loving it!

We got in late last night. The flight was completely full, but instead of the usual grumbling and rude people, it was the exact opposite -- everyone was really happy and friendly. Everyone was wearing Obama shirts and hats, and were all excited to be going to the big party.

We arrived in D.C., and could see the Capitol Building and Washington Monument all lit up from the plane. We found a super helpful cab driver who asked where we were going, and then replied, "I don't know where that is." But he kept driving anyway, and after stopping at a local 7-11 for directions, we made it safely to Jamie and Suzanne's house.

This morning we awoke bright and early (for the West Coast, anyway). We rode the Metro into town. We were the second-to-last station, so we got seats -- which was good, because the train got more crowded than I'd ever seen!

But again, the happy mood prevailed! We passed one of the House office buildings, which had a loooong line wrapped around the building. But instead of being angry, the people in line were smiling, happy. They were thrilled to line up and receive their swearing-in ceremony tickets.

We walked passed the Library of Congress, the Capitol Building and the Supreme Court. I was thrilled to be back in D.C. and see all the amazing sites. I don't think Mark saw much of them, as he was bundled up, with his sweatshirt zipped halfway up his face. He saw the ground, mostly.

We found the Hart Senate building, where Senator Feinstein's office is. Carmen, a mutual friend, and her sister met up with us -- I had an extra ticket for Carmen (I felt bad I didn't have one for her sister, though). After passing through the security line, we headed upstairs to the Senator's office, and received our tickets. They're beautiful, like printed invitations. (I'll scan them in when I get home.)

After meeting our new friends, it was time to meet an old one. Seth was also in town! He came down from New York City yesterday, and we were thrilled to spend the day with him. (I was especially thrilled because I missed him at Christmas this year.) It was so crazy to travel all the way across the country, and meet up with a friend from home.

Here's a shot of Mark, my mom and Seth (just for you, Ann!).

Our little group wandered around the Capitol building, making our way down to the Mall. Along the way, we heard them doing a sound check/rehearsal for tomorrow's ceremony. The announcer introduced Yo-Yo Ma and Itzak Pearlman, and beautiful music wafted through the speakers. I assumed it was a recording, but Seth said, "I think that's live!" He was right! Serendipity...

And when Mark heard the music, he told us very seriously, "I beat Yo-Yo Ma at pizzicato." I had no idea what that meant, but I was so proud of my little man and his musical (and musician) knowledge! (He later explained that pizzacato was plucking the strings on the cello.)

There were a LOT of people out on the Mall today!

And in the museums. We spent our afternoon in the Air and Space Museum, where Mark's favorite exhibit was the trash can with an automatic trash compactor. It had a red light that flashed every time it compacted the trash, and Mark kept racing to feed it more trash and set the light off.

He thought the planes and rockets were pretty cool, too. Unfortunately, I proved myself to be an unworthy tour guide. My dad and brother Scott are awesome guides -- they can tell you the name and history of every plane or rocket there. I, on the other hand, could not.

"See that space suit there?" I asked Mark. "Astronauts wore that when they were working outside on the spaceship...er, rocket ship." He just walked away.

I also pointed out the cockpit of a plane from the '60s. "Look at all the instruments!" I told Mark. (I thought all the stuff was called the instrument panel, which made the blinking lights and stuff...instruments, right?) But I was immediately corrected by the little kid behind me, who said, "That's the control panel."

"How sad is it that 9 year olds know more about planes than I do?" I asked Seth.

We spent a couple hours in the museum. It was really fun to hang out with Seth, and watch Mark run around pushing all the buttons. At first it was nice to get out of the heat, but after a while, it got just plain hot in there, between the thermals and the wool coats we were carting around.

It was cold outside when we left, but not nearly as bad as we thought. I thought we'd freeze, but our layers kept us pretty warm.

Here's a shot of Mom in front of the Washington Monument:


And in front of the MSNBC booth on the Mall:

We were glad about the cold for another reason, too. We'd ordered groceries online, but the store didn't deliver them before we left. They said the groceries would be fine outside until tonight, and they were right. I unpacked the milk, and it was as cold as refrigerated milk usually is! I guess there is some benefit to below 30 degree weather after all.

All in all, it was a pretty awesome day. We did a trial run for the weather (confirming that we need layers for tomorrow), and we got to spend the day in a cool museum with Seth. But best of all, we got a taste of tomorrow's ceremony, and we got to feel the electric vibe coursing through the city. It's just all so exciting.

There's a huge, diverse crowd -- young, old, black, white, individuals, travelling groups, Army guys and civilians. Everyone's got on shirts that say "Hope" and that's exactly what it feels like -- hope.

And now we're off for one last time tonight. Off to my favorite little deli, the Lost Dog Cafe, for dinner. It'll be an early night, because we have an even earlier morning tomorrow, and I know it'll be hard to fall asleep tonight just thinking of it.

Compare and contrast

Current weather reports:
Southern California: 82 degrees, feels like 82

Washington D.C.: 16 degrees, feels like 0

Heather: 98.6 degrees, feels like she might freeze to death in D.C.

I've spent a lot of time online the past few weeks, researching our trip. I've purchased advanced tickets for museums, monuments, Metrorail, the Tourmobile, even ordered groceries online (note to self: next time, don't order them right before lunch, when you're hungry. Second note to self -- cancel the donuts).

I've also spent a lot of time obsessing over the weather -- just like I did when I actually lived in D.C.! It really is a homecoming.

Yesterday, I read my two favorite articles. They were unintentionally hilarious, and should've been categorized under the topic "If you need to read this, you are too stupid to attend -- PLEASE stay home and watch it on T.V."

The articles were from http://inauguration.dc.gov. The first one, entitled "HHS Advises Inauguration Attendees to Prepare to Avoid Cold-Weather Related Health Problems," contained this little gem:

The average temperature in Washington in January is 35 degrees Fahrenheit. Visitors from warm climates may be more sensitive to the cold and should factor in any sensitivity in deciding how to dress for outdoor inaugural events. Dinsdale family, this means YOU.

OK, I added the last sentence, but I definitely felt like they were talking to me. I love how they tell us wimpy little warm-climate visitors what a world of hurt we're in for. Hey you thin-blooded Californians, when you cry from the cold, your tears will freeze on your face!

The second article had an equally snappy title: "National Park Service Emphasizes Common Sense Thinking and Practical Advice for Ways to Best Experience Inaugural Events while enjoying Inaugural Interpretive and Educational Offerings."

So many comments for that title! First, sounds like it was written by the same guy who gave an equally lengthy title to the Borat movie. Secondly, didn't they ever hear that quote about how common sense is not so common?? Lastly (and most importantly), what the hell are "Inaugural Interpretive Offerings"? (Will there be interpretive dances? Interpretive paintings? I'm confused here...)

But the title wasn't even the best part of the article. The best part was a single line, buried in the text:

Wear waterproof footwear; leave the open-toed high heels and flip-flops at home!

Really? It's gonna be 35 degrees, and I shouldn't wear flip-flops? Good to know -- I will unpack them immediately.

Oh man...I was worried about the size of the crowds before. Now I'm worried about the intelligence of the crowd, who apparently aren't smart enough to wear close-toed shoes in 35 degree weather!

Stay tuned -- I will post all pictures I take of people sporting flip-flops.