Y(h)ard work

This past weekend was the most productive I've had in a long time. Mark agreed, although it turns out we have vastly different definitions of the word "productive."

My backyard needed some serious TLC, which called for something Mark is deathly allergic to--manual labor. Every branch Mark picked up was followed by the same whiny question: "Isn't the gardener supposed to do this?"

(Yes, we have a gardener, but only because it's less expensive than replacing all the sprinkler wires I cut when I did the gardening myself. I became fast friends with Scott, the sprinkler tech, who showed up on a regular basis, asking with a huge sigh, "What'd you do now?")

We started off hauling rocks, about 500 pounds of them, to place around the hot tub. I figured this was the whole reason for having a son, to help with the heavy lifting. But after watching my skinny, 75-pound son struggle just pushing the (empty) flat metal cart at the hardware store, I realized he's still in the hindrance phase. I made a mental note to feed that kid more protein when we got home, so he could maybe hit the helpful stage a little sooner.

Next, we moved on to planting. Mark's job was to dig the holes. He stopped every 30 seconds to scream, "There's a wasp!" throw down his shovel, and run away.

He finally dug three two-inch holes.

"Good job," I told him. "Now place the potted plants in there."

He tried, gingerly, refusing to touch the dirt (he doesn't like to get his hands dirty). Even after pounding them, they were still a foot above ground.

"They don't fit," he said.

"Then keep digging until they do," I answered.
 

He just groaned and asked when the gardener was coming.

I started pruning the hedges while I waited for him to finish. Our neighbor, Caden, wandered over.

"Can we play?" Mark asked me, grabbing a ball.

"Yes, but not here," I said, nodding at the branch-strewn yard.

"What?" Mark screeched. I shot him a dirty look, and they ran off to Caden's house.

While they were gone, I finished planting and watering. I hauled in seven 40-pound bags of mulch and spread them throughout the yard. I re-potted a lemon tree, and finished shaping all the bushes and trees. When I was done, you couldn't even see the lawn--it was completely covered in clippings.

Exhausted and hot, I sat down for a minute to rest. I collapsed into a chair and watched a wasp exploring the patio, slowly flitting about every inch of the wall. It hovered above the door for a few minutes, until suddenly, Mark appeared. He opened the screen and the wasp flew into my room.

"Mark, you just let a wasp in!" I shrieked.

He shrieked too, slamming the door, and ran away. I grabbed for the door, which he'd locked. He refused to come back and unlock it, until I reminded him the wasp might leave my room, and head for his.

He shouldn't have worried. The wasp stung me instead.

I sent Mark back to Caden's, and went back to the yard work. He returned again an hour later, and threw away the empty mulch bags.

"Today was so easy," he said. "I'm not even tired!"

I wiped my sweaty brow with dirt-stained hands, and glared at him. He's a super smart kid who doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut.

"Then you didn't work hard enough," I said. I pointed at the lawn, and the trash can, and told him to get to work. He was griping so much, I went to work in the front yard, just to get a little peace and quiet.

I'm a little tired today, and the trashcan's overflowing, but my yard looks awesome. 

And of course, Mark took full credit for it.

Weird Science (final): Well, someone sure learned a lesson

(Read Part1, Part 2 and Part 3 first)

Unfortunately, it wasn't Mark.

Mark felt pretty good about his science report right up until last Wednesday night, when he remembered he needed a presentation board. He informed me of this at dinner. I reminded him we were busy the next couple nights, which is why I had set aside the past Sunday to get everything done with the report. He just nodded understandingly, and after five minutes of silence, he asked if I had plans at lunchtime the next few days.

I obliviously told him my plans, until I realized why, exactly, he was asking.

"I don't have time to buy you a poster board," I told him.

"Darn it!" he answered.

Thursday night, I emailed Mark's science teacher. I wanted to tell her I knew Mark's report wasn't up to my standards or hers, and that he'd pretty much plagiarized the whole report. I told her I wasn't asking for a deadline extension or any compensations, just that Mark had put very little effort into it, and she should grade it solely on merit. (Basically, I was covering my butt, and telling her know I knew about the project and had offered help, which Mark continually refused.)

Friday morning was crazy hectic. Mark's friend Sean arrived carrying a giant green poster board. He had an elaborate report glued onto it, featuring graphs, charts, pictures and text. Mark glanced down at the flimsy report in his own hands and hung his head.

"Do you have a report cover?" he asked me later. I did not. He'd have to turn the stapled report in as is.

I drove the boys to school to protect Sean's poster board. Along the way, we passed other 6th graders carrying their own giant boards. Mark saw them too, and just sighed.

By Monday, I'd finally calmed down. The report was gone, out of my hands, and I could breathe. But after dinner, Mark told me he'd given his presentation.

I perked up when he said that, curious.

"How'd it go?" I asked. I expected him to groan, or shrug, or..actually, I was just really surprised, because I'd figured he wouldn't tell me about it at all.

"It went great!" he said. "I used up half the class time, and the kids wouldn't stop asking me questions."

And...what?!?!

"You..." I stuttered. "They...? What?"

He told me how he'd explained his experiment, and how his blood sugar went up or down based on the games he played. He told them why exercise was important, especially to diabetics. He explained what his normal blood sugar range is, and how he feels when he's out of range. He told them what to do if he ever acts really weird, like crying for no reason or talking non-stop (call for an adult). He even tested his blood for the class.

Mark said one girl kept asking questions about Type 2 diabetes, which he said he didn't know much about. But he did tell her the main differences between Type 1 and Type 2 (with Type 1, your pancreas produces no insulin at all, with Type 2, it does, but your body doesn't use it efficiently). She was worried that Type 2 was genetic, and she might get it. Mark said, "Yeah, it is genetic, so you might get it. But if you watch what you eat and exercise, it helps a lot."

I was dumbfounded. I was sitting there, mouth agape, and I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

He really has been listening! I thought to myself. All those years, all those classes, all those days at diabetes events and camps. Even though he rolls his eyes at me when I talk about diabetes...he was actually listening. And learning. And now, teaching others.

Just when I thought it couldn't get any crazier, he added, "My teacher said I did a great job. She even wrote me a note."

I was speechless. I was so proud of him right then, and also completely demoralized, all at once.

"It's because you wanted him to fall on his face," my mom said, when I told her later.

"No, I didn't," I insisted. "I just wanted him to put in some effort! I wanted him to try!"

There was a moment of awkward silence over the phone.

"Fine," I admitted. "I wanted him to fail a little bit."

What I'd really wanted, what the whole point of this six-week lesson was...you have to put in more than 10 minutes of effort. You have to work hard to get good grades, you don't just get them for showing up to class. I was trying to teach Mark that to succeed, you have to work. You have to try. You have to sweat a little bit.

And what Mark taught me was...uh uh. No, actually, you don't. Mark did the same thing he's always done. He showed up, he charmed the teacher, he did it his way...and it worked.

"Dammit," I sighed to my mom. "I even emailed the teacher. And now I just look like a bitter, mean, vindictive mom."

I was looking for comfort, reassurance. I got none.

"Well..." my mom answered.

"I learned it from you!" I shouted. "The original mean, vindictive, tough mother!"

She actually laughed in my face. I thanked her for kicking me while I was down, and offered up some other wounds, in case she felt like pouring salt in them, too.

And so, yes, a lesson was indeed learned here. Turns out, however, the lesson wasn't for Mark, it was for me.

What I learned was I'm trying to hard, and I'm not at all effective as a mother or a teacher. I tried teaching Mark about hard work, and all Mark learned was that hard work is for dummies--all you really need are good speaking skills, a little charm and charisma.

I also realized another really important thing. I don't have to worry about Mark. I worry that he is lazy and doesn't work hard, but now I know it doesn't really matter. Some way, some how, Mark will always come out on top. As long as there are ladies to charm, and people willing to listen, he'll be okay.

Not only will he be okay, he'll be great...I'm telling you, this kid will probably talk his way into becoming President of the United States someday. He'll charm the whole country...and the entire nation will love everything about him, except for his grouchy, bitter, mean old mom.

I give up. I put Mark to bed, then headed to the kitchen to grab a cold beer and a strawberry Pop-Tart to cheer myself up.

There were lessons to be learned, for sure...but not by Mark.

Weird Science (part 3)

(Read Part 1 and Part 2 first)

Friday: Science Project Due Date T -7 days.

"I have an idea!" Mark informed me, happily. "I'm gonna test my blood sugar!"

"Oh," I answered. "I thought you were gonna tell me your science project idea."

"That is my idea," he proclaimed. "I'm gonna test both hands and see which hand has a higher blood sugar."

He smiled proudly. I just said, "OK..."

"My hypothesis is that my left hand will be higher," he said. "Because I test that one way more."

"When will you start testing them both?" I asked.

"Tomorrow morning," he answered.

And he did. The first results were:

Left hand: 93
Right hand: 98

"I knew it!" Mark exclaimed. "My right hand's higher because I'm always touching stuff with it. This proves I'm right."

"You were proving the LEFT hand is higher," I reminded him. "Besides, you need more than one test to get proper results!"

"Oh, yeah," he said, looking at his left hand. "Whatever."

I wondered if "whatever" is a scientifically acceptable answer.

He conducted the second test before lunch, but didn't have any paper to write the results down. I just shook my head and walked away.

I couldn't stand it anymore. I'd gone almost six weeks saying very little, and as much as I wanted him to learn a lesson, this was killing me in a very slow and painful way. The project was due in six days--he wouldn't even fail correctly if he didn't come up with a real project!

So I caved.

"Why don't you test how exercise affects your blood sugar?" I asked.

No reaction. Mark didn't want to run laps, not even in the name of science.

"You could play active games on the Wii for two hours," I said. "And inactive games for two hours, then graph the different results." (I know, I'm a saint.)

"YEAH!" he shouted, pumping a fist in the air.

But I still wanted him to realize this was a scientific project, not just a free four-hour pass to play Wii.

"Why is exercise important?" I prodded. "Not everyone has Type 1 diabetes...why should they care how activity affects blood sugar?"

"Because they don't wanna see me fall on the floor and pass out when I'm low," Mark answered.

Eventually, with a lot more prodding, he came up with a viable answer--people with Type 1 diabetes need to know so they don't go too low during exercise, people with Type 2 need to know so they can lower their blood sugar, and...

"Who's the last audience?" I asked. "Who's reading this paper, or listening to your presentation? You need to tell them why they should care about this paper."

I was looking for the answers "my classmates and the teacher" or "non-diabetics, so they can prevent Type 2 diabetes by being active," but instead, Mark answered, "Researchers."

"OK, I quit," I said.

"What? Why?" Mark asked, confused. But his confusion paled in comparison to mine--I have no idea why he thought he'd be presenting this paper to researchers.

Mark ran straight to the Wii to start playing, but I stopped him.

"You have to write the report first," I said. "I want to see everything done except the results. You can drop those in at the end."

This was met by much grumbling, and a loud, slow walk down the hallway toward the office. Mark spent a whopping 45 minutes working on his paper before announcing his project was done. He showed me the notebook paper where he'd copied two paragraphs verbatim from a website. (OK, maybe not verbatim--he misspelled every other word.)

"You didn't just copy those paragraphs word for word, right?" I asked. "Because we've had this discussion before--that's plagiarizing."

This truly shocked him. "WHAT?!" he exploded. "Come on!" There was an awkward moment of silence, and then he stomped off again.

"It has to be typed," I called out. I heard him growl.

When he returned, Mark said, once again, he was done with his project, except for the results.

"Good job," I said, knowing full well he wasn't. "Must feel good to be done, huh?"

"Oh, yeah!" Mark sighed. "And I didn't even plagiarize. Look, I added the words 'Did you know...' before the other sentence, to make it my own."

I just smiled, because I didn't trust whatever words wanted to come out of my mouth. And I realized it's probably just as well I never realized my childhood dream of becoming a teacher--because obviously, I can't teach kids, not even my own damn kid, how to succeed without cheating, or stealing words.

Thank God this paper's due soon. I may not survive much longer...

Weird Science (part 2)

(Read Part 1 first)

It's been five weeks since the science project announcement. My tongue now bears a permanent scar where I've bitten it on a daily basis, while swallowing my words.

Last Saturday, I reminded Mark he had two weekends left to finish (and by "finish," I meant "START"). I asked if he had any concrete project ideas yet.

"Yes!" he said. He handed me a note from his teacher.

"Desalinization," it read. "Research and create a simple procedure."

"Awesome!" I said.

And then Mark went outside to play.

Sunday night, he opened the laptop to start his research. Unfortunately, the battery was dead.

"Great!" he shouted. "Now I can't do my project!"

I reminded him in my gentlest tone he'd had this assignment for five weeks now. He couldn't blame his incomplete project on the laptop being down one out of those 35 days. Mark walked away in a huff.

On Monday, he called to get the computer password.

"Oh, good," I said. "You came up with a hypothesis?"

"No," Mark said, snidely. "I have to RESEARCH it first!" He implied, rather than actually stated, the DUH at the end of that sentence.

"Oh," I answered. "I'll be home in 10 minutes. Write down your hypothesis and procedure, and you can research it when I get there."

When I got home, he showed me his work:

This was my favorite:

(I've always thought there's too much salt in the ocean, too, though it doesn't seem to bother the fish.)

"That's a lot of ideas," I said. "You couldn't find a bigger piece of paper to put them on?"

"No," he said, glaring at me. (I know, I know, I totally deserved that look--but it messes with my OCD. How can he organize his thoughts mentally, if he can't even organize them PHYSICALLY? And yes, my mom is smiling right now at that statement.)

You'll never guess how this interaction ended--OK, you're right, Mark snorted and stomped out of the room.

He calmed down and returned a few minutes later. He explained to my nephew Johnny and I that he'd thought of a new, way better project idea.

"I'm going to see how long it takes to kill a plant," he said. "I'm not going to water it for a week, and I think it'll die by then."

"You don't have a week!" I yelled. "It's due next Friday!"

(Besides, I didn't have the heart to tell him houseplants will last waaaaay longer than seven days without water--all he had to do was look around the room at my neglected plants, and he'd see how resilient they really are.)

Johnny was very quiet until we got in the car.

"Is Marky really gonna kill a plant?" he asked me, worriedly.

"I don't know," I answered. "Ask him."

"Marky, why are you gonna kill a plant?" Johnny asked.

"For science," Mark said, dismissively.

Johnny thinks Mark is a god--he was quite upset to find Mark's really just a serial plant killer instead. Johnny repeated the question 15 more times, until finally, worn down, Mark promised not to kill any plants.

Which put us back at square one: Mark still didn't have a science project idea.

Well, at least one of us wasn't worried about it.

Unfortunately, it was the wrong one of us.

Weird Science (part 1)

I'd barely recovered from the disaster called "the book report" when Mark handed me a paper from school. It described a science assignment, due in six weeks. I signed the paper, informing Mark's teacher I knew about the project (and, presumably, agreed to help with it).

After six weeks battling the book report, the last thing I wanted to see was another long-term project. My first thought was a very bad word, and my second thought was not much better. My last thought was "CALM DOWN," and because I thought it just like that, in all caps, I'm not sure it really worked.

I wondered aloud if Mark had any ideas for his project. He shrugged and asked if he could play the Wii.

"No," I said, then observed that six weeks was a long time. "Do you want help making a project schedule and to-do list?" 

Mark said no, and that he was going outside to play.

It hit me then--the realization that it was time to bring in the big guns. Only this time, the big guns weren't Grandma, but something even tougher--a real life lesson. For both of us.

Mark's lesson was consequences, including what happens when you blow off a big school assignment. My lesson was keeping my mouth shut so he could succeed (or fail) on his own. I wondered whose lesson would hurt more.

I only mentioned the science project once or twice a week after that. Each time I asked if Mark had an idea, he'd reply "Yes!" enthusiastically. The ideas included testing:

• Whether you get more wet running or walking in a rainstorm (he thought running)

• How fast a puppy grows (This idea came after visiting my friend Jill's adorable new puppies. Mark helpfully pointed out he'd need his own puppy for the test.)

• How fast a kitten grows (after the puppy idea was nixed) 

• How long a kid could last inside a running clothes dryer before drying out (I'm guessing the kid was wet from running/walking through a rainstorm)

At least one of those ideas made my head hurt very badly, but still I remained a bastion of supportive encouragement. I offered my scheduling offer each week, and pointed out I'm a professional writer by trade, in case anyone needed writing or editing help. Each week, without fail, my offers were politely declined.

Requests for playing the Wii, however, increased ten-fold. I thought if Mark were smart enough, he'd think of a project that incorporated the Wii, so he could play it in the name of science.

But he didn't figure that out. I, on the other hand, have figured something out--that not nagging is waaaaaay tougher than constant nagging.

This may be the hardest (and longest) six weeks of my life.

D.C. days

Baltimore's only 45 minutes from Washington D.C., a city my niece Nathalie had never been to. I love D.C. (as long as I don't have to live there without family), as does my mom and Mark. We couldn't wait to go back.

We took the train in from Baltimore on the first day, which proved very easy. Union Station was under lots of construction, which was a bummer, since it's a magnificent building both inside and out. It's also only a couple blocks from the Capitol, where our first tour of the day was scheduled.

Did I mention it was spring time? Because there's really not a more beautiful time to visit D.C. (well, okay, maybe a couple weeks earlier, when the cherry blossoms were blooming would've been a wee bit better). The trees were all flowering, and like Baltimore, there were tulips everywhere. It was breathtaking.

Our first stop was the Hart Senate building. Mom and I went through security pretty quickly, but it was almost as if Mark and Nathalie had never seen a metal detector before. The guards were very patient with them, reminding them to take off their belts, to put back the little storage bowls for your phone and wallet, and to go back, once again, and remove any metal, including their belts (yes, they were told twice). We finally got through, and the guard said, "OK, now you can go about your business. Where are you going, so I can direct you?" We were embarrassed to admit we just needed the bathrooms!

The guard started laughing and said, "You came into my beautiful building, and went through all that hassle just to use the bathroom?" He just laughed again and shook his head.

Next, it was on to the Capitol, with a photo stop first in front of the Supreme Court.

Court and Congress were on spring break, so while there were no protesters in front, there were tons of middle schoolers on tour. After seeing all the matching shirts and jackets, Mark and Nathalie were thankful to be in a much smaller group with no color-coordinated clothes.

The Capitol tour was nice. It is such an amazing building, and the dome...man, I could seriously just sit inside there and stare up at that gorgeous dome all day. (In fact, that's just what I did--didn't hear much of the tour facts during this part.) Our tour guide was hilarious. She kept mixing up John Adams and Sam Adams, and then saying she was thirsty. She had a really dry sense of humor, and we loved her.

We stopped to take some more touristy pics of the Library of Congress, then headed to the Metro. A few stops later, we were down by the White House, and on our way to lunch. The last time we were in D.C. was during President Obama's inauguration, and we stumbled on to the Old Ebbitt Grill restaurant for lunch. It was so good, my mom insisted we return this trip.

 

We spent a good two hours eating some wonderful food. We ordered lobster rolls, which were awesome, although I'm kinda spoiled now that I've been to Maine and had a REAL lobster roll. But these were still amazing, and way better than anything we have in California!

 

After lunch, we strolled. We walked to the White House to take pictures, then down to the Mall. It was a bit windy, and when Nathalie and my mom stopped at the back of the White House to take photos, Nat's baseball cap flew off--and landed on the other side of the fenced-in White House lawn! She fell to the ground, and reached with all her might under the fence, where she came out victorious. A man walking by laughed, and told my mom, "I wouldn't have risked that for anything except a Red Sox hat!"

Next, it was on to the Washington Monument, and then up the Mall toward the Smithsonian museums. It was fun to show it all off to Nathalie, who, it turns out, really didn't care that much. She was just having a blast being on vacation--she could have been anywhere, really, and she still would've had fun.

We stopped briefly for water (Mom), low blood sugar (Mark), and to rest the busted knee (me). We were kind of a mess.

Our last stop was the Smithsonian Museum of American History. They have a new display for the flag that inspired Francis Scott Key to write "The Star Spangled Banner." It was dark, quiet and profoundly moving.

They even had a display of the Presidents, where this hopeful candidate gave a rousing speech.

And best of all, they had a really interesting display on Abraham Lincoln. They even had the top hat he wore the night he was killed, which was iconic, impressive and sad all at once.

On our next day trip, we ventured out to Mt. Vernon, George Washington's gorgeous estate. Because it was much further out, we drove instead of taking the train. The road was beautiful, lined with lush trees and flowers. I'd forgotten how beautiful D.C. and its surrounding areas were.

They'd built a new visitor's center since the last time I'd been there (seemed to be a running theme). We watched a movie about the first Prez, and then wandered the grounds. It was supposed to rain, and we were a bit worried, but the weather turned out to be way better than we expected.

We couldn't leave without an iconic picture on George's back porch.

Besides all the flowers and trees, spring meant babies--lots of them! There were tons of new lambs, and baby pigs. I was excited, and whispered to Nat, "These are the ancestors of George Washington's sheep!" She was cracking up at me.

The kids really dug Mt. Vernon, but I think the lambs were honestly their favorite part.

Since we had a car, we made the most of it by driving to all the memorials outside of the city. We stopped at the World War II Iwo Jima memorial, where a groups of vets were paying homage to their fallen comrades. It was very moving.

We didn't think we'd have enough time to take the tour of Arlington Cemetery, so we just peeked over the fence at all the crosses. Nathalie was the only one who hadn't been there before, and I learned on this trip she's totally creeped out by cemeteries--even one as beautiful as Arlington. So we never made it back to take the full tour, but I don't think Nat really minded.

We were supposed to meet up with my other niece Hannah, whose middle school was also visiting Washington. However, I got lost trying to get to the restaurant--I took a wrong turn, and ended up in front of the Pentagon. Which was cool, because hey, here was another awesome sight to show the kids. But even better were the signs I saw as I tried to leave the Pentagon parking lot--signs directing us to a memorial for those lost in 9/11. I didn't even know they had a memorial for that, but it made sense. It was haunting, and beautiful.

Due to snafus you only encounter when dealing with groups of tweens, we never did meet up with Hannah. Which bummed us all out at first, until I realized that meant we could have dinner somewhere even better--in my previous hometown, at the Lost Dog Cafe! Yahooooo! It was every bit as wonderful as I remembered.

Our last day of vacation was a Saturday, and the day of the Cherry Blossom parade and festival. We planned to return for both, but by the time Saturday rolled around, we were pretty well exhausted.

So we still went to D.C., but we blew off the parade. Instead, we jumped on a trolley tour, for one last look at all the monuments. It worked out pretty well, since we avoided most of the crowds.

Along the way, we saw some of the newer monuments, like the thoughtful Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. one. It was a nice tribute to an amazing man.

We exited the trolley at the Lincoln Memorial. Doesn't matter how many times you see it, the experience is always awe-inspiring. A giant Lincoln sits above you, and you almost feel like he's about to get up, or maybe just say something profound.

The Gettysburg Address was carved into the wall, and it was pretty cool to read it, having just been to the battlefield days earlier. There was a whole lotta learning going on here.

I also marveled at the view from the steps, facing the Washington Monument, and further back, the Capitol building. The Reflection Pool was empty, drained for all the construction going on around the park, but it was still a contemplative moment. My thoughts were finally broken by a nearby family, whose mom was positioning the kids closer together in front of the Washington Monument.

"Move ovah," she commanded in a thick New York accent. "Make it look like the giant pencil is stickin' outta ya head!"

I almost lost it, erupting into silent laughter at that. And I will never be able to think of the Washington Monument as anything but a giant pencil again.

We walked over to the Korean War memorial, and took loads of pictures for my dad. He served in Korea, albeit a couple years after the war, so he was front and center in our minds then.

After a quick lunch, we trekked over to Ford's Theatre, which was closed because there was a play going on. I didn't even know they still showed plays in there--seems kinda sick to me, and I'd be nervous the whole time if I were in the audience. So we didn't get to take the kids inside, but we were all so tired, we honestly didn't even care that much.

And so it was back to Baltimore. It was a Jewish holiday, so the Gludts were celebrating at a friend's house.

But they came home very excited for two reasons--the first was that at nightfall, Passover was officially over, and they could once again eat bread. Secondly, it was Rob's birthday, which was a nice coincidence, because we could celebrate with all his favorite leavened carbs--pizza, apple pie, and beer. YUM! 

We'd had some really great family dinners that week, and a lot of good times visiting with the Gludts. Mark and I were already members of Romi's fan club, but he also easily converted my mom and Nathalie--they thought he was hilarious, and, as my mom noted, "It was worth the trip out here just to meet him."

So all in all, it was a fantastic trip. I'm grateful for the time I spent with my good friends, and showing off so many new sites to the kids (and to me and my mom, too). We laughed a lot, and kept super busy, but really, my favorite parts were the quiet moments. The long drive Kelley and I took through the Maryland countryside, the matzah breakfasts, sitting in the backyard with Rob while Romi made everyone (including the dog) get in the car as he pretended to drive them somewhere. Those were the moments I'll remember best, the ones that meant the most. Hershey was a blast, but sitting around the living room laughing, playing games...that's the reason we keep visiting the Gludts, wherever they may roam, wherever they may land.

Thank you Rob, Kelley and Romi for hosting us, and to Steven for being a good sport and giving up your room to a bunch of crazy Californians. 

Baltimore days

Between our trip to Hershey and our day trips to D.C., we spent time with the Gludts, exploring their new home town. They were wonderful hosts who not only fed and sheltered us, but did so during Passover, which was not an easy feat. 

We also got to spend time with Kelley's niece Morgan, and her nephew, Steven. Our kids really took to them, and loved playing board games with them. It was pretty funny to watch them all play, especially during Scrabble, when this little exchange when down:

Mark: "Okay, I went. Here's my word."

Morgan: "You spelled 'no'? Again?"

Turns out, it was the third time Mark played that word--but at least he spelled it right.

We also played Taboo, whee you get your team to guess a word without saying any of the other common descriptive words on the card. I was stoked to get one card, because it was perfectly timed.

Me: "What holiday is today?"

Steven and Morgan: "Passover!"

Me: "No, Catholic kids--what holiday is it?"

Mark and Nathalie: "Oh...Easter!"

And then the whole room dissolved into laughter.

On Monday, Kelley sent us off to lunch at a local eatery, then met up with us afterward.

 

She took us to her new shul, which was huge and gorgeous. 

  

It was even more gorgeous on the inside.

 

My family walked in, gasped, and started pointing out all the beautiful things in quiet, reverential voices. It was an awe-inspiring kind of place.

Kelley just laughed at us and yelled, "Hey, Catholics! You don't have to whisper in here! It's okay to talk!" Which made us laugh out loud. 

We also laughed at Kelley, who sighed when we asked her to step up on the bima and act rabbinical. She reminded us this was not her congregation, that she was the religious school director, but I just shushed her and told her to act like she was giving a sermon. Instead, she started acting goofy and making silly faces.

This was one of my favorite sights just outside the temple:

That's right, cherry blossoms. Due to unusually warm weather, the D.C. cherry blossoms had already come and gone, but we got to see loads of them in Baltimore.

In fact, the spring colors were beautiful all over the city. Kelley and Rob had a wonderful tree in their yard with the best colors ever.

Kelley also drove us to a wonderful little park that was just FILLED with tulips, every color you could imagine. It was full of families, with kids running around, and dogs chasing them. Everywhere you looked there were tulips, each color more rich and beautiful than the patch before. We couldn't get over all the beauty.

Here's my mom with my favorite flowers:

I tried convincing Romi to sit still with the flowers so I could take his picture, but it was no go. Until Mark sat down...and then Romi couldn't get enough pictures with his best buddy!

Our last outing of the day was a trip to Camden Yards, to watch the Orioles play the New York Yankees. We were in Baltimore, but you couldn't tell by the audience, which seemed comprised of mostly Yankees fans. The Os put up a good fight, but the Yanks still beat them.

Wednesday was Romi's fourth birthday, and we were excited to help him celebrate. Everyone sang happy birthday to him, but apparently, it wasn't enough. He pulled up a chair, his guitar, and his music, and serenaded himself for a good 45 minutes, much to our delight.

Kelley sent us off to another local favorite for breakfast, although it was actually lunch by the time we got there. No matter, the food was still good, and the cinnamon rolls, which were bigger than our heads, were fantastic.

We met Rob and Romi at the aquarium afterwards. My favorite animals were the sea dragons!

I was just bummed that it was cold and my knee was all busted up, because I really wanted to go out in those boats. Oh, well, something to do on our next visit!

The aquarium, as always, was spectacular, and we got some great pictures of the kids.

We returned to the Gludts for Romi's big birthday celebration. Kelley tried making ice cream, but something was up with either the new ice cream maker, or the modified-for-Passover recipe, and we ended up with ice cream soup instead. It was still awesome, but Kelley supplemented dessert with a batch of matzah roca just in case.

It's a bummer to have a birthday during Passover (no birthday cake!), but Romi didn't mind. He got to blow out a (Shabbat) candle anyway.

You can really tell he's a rabbi's kid, because this was his favorite birthday gift--his own havdalah set.

He was so dang cute using it Friday night, mimicking Kelley and Rob's every move as we poured the grape juice, smelled the spices, and lit the candle. (He used his thumb as a pretend lighter.)

By Friday, my family was tired, and staged a revolt (all the battlegrounds and lessons of independence inspired them). The kids refused to get up until 11 a.m., and my mom sided with them. So we just kinda relaxed that day.

I did manage to get them out of the house for lunch.The restaurant was inside the  Lexington Market, which was full of small food stands. It was busy, crowded, and loud. I could've sat there people-watching all day long.

I was a little nervous about the food, since crab wasn't the only thing this place served.

But I needn't have worried. Turns out they have the BEST crab cakes in the city. A. MAZ. ING. Seriously.

It was also one of my favorite afternoons because our families refused to do anything, so Kelley and I went out exploring on our own.

She drove me through the countryside, and pointed out her favorite little house. 

She drove me to see Romi's school, which was on my favorite-named street in Baltimore (or anywhere, for that matter!).

We also had amazing pie that day, and even brought one home for Rob's birthday dinner the next night. He was a happy camper about that!

So Hershey was fun, the sights all along the trip were wonderful, but the highlight (and main reason) for our visit was to see our friends. And we were not disappointed! We really had a blast with them.

How I spent spring break

Days 1 and 2: Baltimore and Hershey (with some random giant landmarks along the way)

We spent spring break this year in Baltimore, visiting our wonderful friends Rob and Kelley. Because Mark neither appreciates nor enjoys vacationing with me, I also brought along my mom and niece Nathalie. I figured it was the only way I'd have someone to talk to who didn't immediately argue or roll their eyes every time I opened my mouth.

Our first lesson in Bawmer was that no freeway exists from the airport to the Gludts--you have to drive through downtown. Which includes Camden Yards, home of the Baltimore Orioles, who kindly hosted their opening day game that very evening, at the exact moment we were driving by.

It was also the first night of Passover. Though the Orioles slowed us down, we arrived in time to celebrate the second half of the Seder. We represented the clueless Catholic demographic, and really had no idea what was going on. Kelley included a Seder for Dummies page, which included passages like, "Some rabbis talked all night, blah blah blah" and "We were bitter about being slaves, so now we eat something bitter to remember that." (I'm paraphrasing--Kelley's version was much better.)

It was a blast to see the Gludts and their family, including the Chuckle Cousins, Jamie and Suzanne (on our last trip, we visited their house, but not them. This was much better!). They looked great, and it was fun to see them after so many years.

But we didn't stay in Baltimore long. After our first matzah breakfast with the Gludts, we were off. Our destination: Hershey, PA.

Hershey is 90 minutes from Baltimore, unless you take the long way, and of course we took the long way, because it involved a side trip to see stuff like this:

Yup, it's a house built like a giant shoe! It was in the middle of nowhere, and it. was. AWESOME. The kids were not impressed, but my mom and I couldn't stop giggling or taking pictures. We love goofy stuff.

From there, Louisa, our trusty GPS, led us toward Hershey. But as we pulled off the freeway, we another thing of beauty:

"Do you want to stop?" I asked my mom, but she said, "No."

"Really??" I asked, and she answered, "OK, YES!"

The kids were more impressed here than they were with the shoe house, but not much. The minute I aimed my camera, Mark started making faces.

"Stop, Mark!" my mom yelled at him. "No dumb pictures!"

I lowered my camera for a moment and said, "Mom, you're in front of a GIANT COW!!" I think she was kinda missing the point, which was...you know, to take a dumb picture.

The cow was actually a landmark for something called "the Turkey Hill Experience." I didn't know what that was--it just looked like your average building. But then I saw a giant inflatable iced tea bottle, and I had to go inside.

The cashier said it wasn't really a museum as much as a hands-on learning experience. I still didn't know what we'd be touching, until she explained that Turkey Hill is a company that makes ice cream and iced teas. When she said the experience included ice cream tasting, we were in!

The ice cream was a success, but some of the other stuff, like creating your own ice cream flavor, was a bust. (You create it on a computer, not with actual ingredients.) My mom and I worked together, but when the computer showed our final result, I was disappointed.

"That's not a new flavor," I told my mom. "That's just mint-chocolate chip ice cream!"

"That's what I like," my mom answered, and who was I to argue with that?

We could've spent much more time there, but we had places to be--namely, Hershey. There was chocolate calling our name, and we couldn't ignore it.

Somehow, we managed to drive through Amish country without actually encountering any Amish people. I was hugely disappointed. My mom saw two Amish ladies, and Mark saw a buggy, but that was it. I'll just have to go back.

We arrived at Hershey in the afternoon.

 

 

The first thing I saw were the famed streetlights. They were indeed shaped like Hershey's Kisses, and I screamed with delight. (Nathalie realized then it would be a long trip, with a lot of screaming.)

I drove blindly down Chocolate Avenue, not sure where to go, but loving every minute of it. Somehow, we made it to our destination, Hershey's Chocolate World, which was already populated by every other family currently on spring break.

We joined the massive crowd, and followed the families blindly. I was relieved to see the chocolate factory tour at the end of it. It wasn't the real factory, since they closed tours there in 1974, but it was a pretty good replica, complete with flowing candy and singing cows. Mark and Nathalie about died laughing when they saw the first cows, one of whom sported the name tag, "Gabby," just like Nat's sister.

Afterwards, we ambled through the rest of Chocolate World, which was really just a souvenir/giant candy store. I was expecting to see specialized chocolates, or custom candies available here only, but no, it was just massive bags of the same Hershey's candy you can buy at home. But we did make our own personalized label, which was fun:

We also rode the trolley through town, learning all about Milton Hershey, and what a wonderful man he was. He created three schools, first for orphan boys, then girls, then to all disadvantaged children.

The schools were gorgeous--my mom and I were really impressed. Nat and Mark were impressed too, but for a different reason. They learned that the kids lived in homes on campus, with a set of house parents--and that there were no sodas served in the homes, but there was chocolate milk on tap 24/7. I don't think they remembered anything after that.

I loved the trolley ride, because it was just plain fun. We started off with a sing along, and then every 15 minutes or so, the tour guide would pass around chocolates. It was awesome.

Dinner was at a local sports pub. The food was okay, but the drinks were great--apparently, we hit some sort of happy hour. And by the time we left, we were indeed happy, prompting my mom to remark that, "I love Shershey." Cue round two of endless laughing by the kids, and a new family slogan.

We awoke early the next day, which we'd forgotten was actually Easter. Hershey is a tiny little town. Not many restaurants looked like they opened on Sundays, and none of them opened on Easter.

Luckily, the Hershey Story museum had a cafe. However, the cash register was broken, which offered further proof we were not in Los Angeles any more.

"It's not working," the young cashier told us.

"Oh, so we can't order?" I asked, since that would be the case back home.

"Oh, you can order," she answered. "You'll just have to pay later, after you eat."

I love small towns.

The Hershey Story was cool. More info on Mr. Hershey and his good deeds, and then, for the kids, an Easter Egg hunt. So we didn't completely miss out on Easter.

Then we were off to our next destination--Gettysburg (pronounced by the locals as "Get-iss-burg.") 

My mom and I were interested in seeing the historic site, and we figured if we gave the kids enough chocolate, we could trick them into learning some history, too. (Plus, it was really beautiful out there!)

We bought tickets for the last tour, and marvelled at how lucky we were to get them. But our luck ran out the minute the tour started.

I'm not saying it was a bad tour, just that we were the wrong audience. My dad would've LOVED this tour, and the minute details the very knowledgeable but socially awkward tour guide imparted (he never opened his eyes while speaking). The Gettysburg battle lasted three days, and the guide made it feel like he was telling us the story in real-time.

Or maybe I was just spoiled from the trolley ride. The Gettysburg guide should've started with a song, or tossed us chocolates every once in a while.

 

It was an interesting place and I'm glad we took the kids there. But I think the condensed 25-minute film at the visitor's center and a quick drive through the battle grounds was more our speed.

It was time to return to the Gludts, and the ride through the rolling hills of Pennsylvania was beautiful. It was gorgeous, with spring shining everywhere--flowers blooming, and tulips everywhere you looked. It was a beautiful way to end the day, and the only thing that made it better was how warmly Romi and the Gludts welcomed us home.