I could've driven to Detroit today

At some point last fall, Peyton did something special enough (how sad am I, I cannot even remember *what*) to earn a major treat - we agreed on a trip to "The Dinosaur Museum" a.k.a. The Field Museum in Chicago. Surgery came and postponed that plan; about two weeks ago, we settled on today, January 31. Part of that choice was that a friend of mine from college who lives in the city could join us and hang out for the day.

Despite a forecast that earlier in the week called for upwards of 12 inches of snow (revised to 4 to 6) and a Winter Storm Warning that was supposed to start at 6PM, this morning at 8:40, my intrepid travelers and I set off for the Big City. We had engaged to meet Shilpa at 10AM. By 9:15, it was clear that wasn't going to happen so I called her and we agreed on 10:30. Traffic into the city was pretty awful because it was *already snowing.* Not a good start to the day.

For those of you who've never been to the Field, the general parking lot is Soldier Field parking which is nice in some ways (indoors), bad in others (a *really* long walk from the museum and an even longer one from the accessible entrance where us stroller-pushers must enter). It's also 15 bucks but so is everything else nearby.

We parked at Soldier Field, bundled up appropriately (it was about 18 degrees downtown at this point) and set off at a jog for the museum. Peyton's face was freezing and he was nearly in tears so I stopped to help him with his coat - I stopped the stroller, turned to Peyton, zipped him up, pulled up his hood, velcroed it around his face, turned back . . . no Nathaniel. Seriously - the stroller was gone. I look up - it's IN THE STREET. He has rolled into the street. Dear Lord in heaven. My child could have been crushed by a car but no other nincompoop is actually out in this awful weather. A few profanities and an adrenaline burst later, we are all safely back on the sidewalk, running for the entrance in the snow and wind. Because the storm that wasn't supposed to hit until 6PM is already here. And it's barely 10:30.

We had a lovely time at the Field, Shilpa's always so much fun to chat with and the boys both loved it, especially the new hands-on kids area. I had originally aimed to hit the road home by 2PM. Not so much to miss rush hour (because there is no rush hour in Chicago anymore; there's just a brief lull in traffic from about 11 - 1) but to try to get home at a reasonable time. At 2:45, we're trying to pack up and by 3, we're actually pulling out of the parking lot. Into the snow.

Now at this point, I informed the boys that it was probably going to be about 2.5 hours until we would get home - the roads in the city were cr*p, the snow was still coming down, it was "rush hour" and all the radio stations were reporting increasingly frightening travel times on the highway I was pointing my car towards. By the time we hit the highway, I admit it will be closer to 3 hours. After averaging about 6MPH (not making this up, I was actually using my GPS for distance and timing myself) on the Ike, we finally got up to about 25 on I-88 but the snow was getting thicker in the sky, deeper on the roads, and actually piling up on my windshield we were moving so slowly. I've never actually seen that before today.

So 3.5 hours later, we are finally home. The boys are running around like they've been freed from shackles (and both were troopers in the car - Peyton was great the whole way and Nathaniel didn't start to freak until about 3 miles / 30 minutes out when he dropped a toy and then it was bursts of yelling at me not screaming or crying). I am a bit wired - I still have to go shovel the driveway, take out the trash, retrieve the newspaper, and move my car so Fiore can get his in the driveway tomorrow when he gets home. Assuming he actually makes it home tomorrow since he's flying back into O'Hare, the worst-equipped-to-handle-bad-weather airport in the country, the morning after a major snowstorm. That was supposed to bring 4 - 6 inches, which I already have in my driveway, and is continuing to snow. Wheee!

Getting my hands dirty

The most lasting side effect of my surgery in November has been the impact on my sense of smell. It's coming back, slowly; I've been told it can take up to 6 months to come back fully. It's definitely better after having the ENT clear what he calls "crust" out of my sinuses (I call them boogers - that's what it is, dude, call a spade a spade).

But it's just not that great yet and particularly not good at a distance. Perhaps the most noticeable thing that I don't notice is when N's poopy. Right after my surgery, he was standing next to me, apparently stinking to high heaven, and my mom, on the other side of the next room, could smell him. Me? Not a clue.

So how does a mom, who can't tell from across the room that her son has a poopy diaper, check? I LOOK. I pull back the top of the back of his diaper and take a peek (or I get my eldest, lovely child that he is, to check and he will actually sniff his brother's butt). But if it's up to me, I take a peek.

Now, it's also important to note that we just had a round of stomach flu in our house - first time EVER. N had diarrhea for about 10 days (horrible, awful, and disgusting at times, it was like entering the first circle of h*ll here at times for the first few days).

So TWICE recently, I've gone to see what he might be carrying and lo and behold, STUCK MY FINGERS IN IT. Ewwwwww! Once I was actually on the phone with a friend and shrieked in the poor woman's ear - she thought somebody was hurt. Nope, I just have poop on my hand. Lovely. 'Cause it's not enough that I wash my hands 30 times a day, now I need to disinfect them, too.

Press 2 for international abductions . . . .

Seriously. That's an actual option on the auto-attendant when you call the U.S. Department of State. I'm not even sure what option 1 is - hopefully something even more serious than being abducted in a foreign country.

But let's think about this for a minute. First, I'm assuming that if I'm personally abducted overseas, I'm not going to be able to call the State Department on a U.S. 800-number. So presumably the people who need to press 2 are friends or family. Your loved one is traveling abroad and OMG - is kidnapped by who knows who. You think - at some point in the nightmare you're experiencing following whatever means of communication that has delivered the news that your loved one is now starring in their own version of Proof of Life - I need to call the State Department. You look up the number. You dial.

Do you really want to get the auto-attendant? And I have to wonder: what happens when you do press 2?

(Side note: apparently, further down the list, is an option for International Adoptions as well. The State Department covering all its bases.)

Planning my summer around Barack

Ever since Peyton turned 3, the D'Orazios have been a traveling family. Each year, we've taken at least one trip, usually two, somewhere. Arizona, North Carolina, Florida, Colorado. Most of those more than once. But only once have we traveled somewhere in the winter. So it's a little odd that Fiore's gone to Canada this week and he and I are going to Colorado next week.

Traveling out of a Chicago airport isn't generally a well-considered move. Flying out of O'Hare is especially risky. Flying out of O'Hare in the winter . . . . well, you're just asking for trouble. Yesterday, Fiore's flight was supposed to leave at 4:25. It was cancelled. Rebooked on an 8:05 PM flight (to Seattle, no less, travel time of 3.5 hours). Delayed until 8:42. At 8:45, he calls me from the airport asking me to track the inbound flight that is the actual plane they are supposed to take to Seattle since it's not at the gate yet (lovely website, flightaware.com, live tracking of any commercial flight and then some). Yep, it's there, in the 30MPH winds and blowing snow. Bad enough that when they finally got on the plane, it was sitting at the gate ROCKING in the wind. I love to fly and I don't particularly want any part of that.

They finally make it to Seattle, get to their hotel at 1AM Seattle time (3AM home). He actually called me to let me know and thankfully I slept right through the phone ringing. But all of these travel woes have me concerned about next week, flying to Colorado. Denver in winter isn't exactly a guaranteed cakewalk either. They're one of those airports that ends up on CNN because it's been shut down by oh, a BLIZZARD.

And then I get to thinking: we're supposed to fly to Denver this summer. We're planning to take the boys to Breckenridge for a week to go hiking and experience the ski runs that I won't actually ski by taking the lift up and hiking them. And didn't I hear on the radio that the Democratic National Convention is in Denver this summer?

Egads. Yes, it is. August 25 - 28, exactly the week we were considering going to Colorado. Don't really want to fly through Denver at a time when thousands of media, delegates, candidates, Secret Service, candidates, etc. are filtering in and out. Denver International's bad enough without that wackiness.

So now I find myself in the position of planning my summer vacation around Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton. Never thought I'd say that!