Yesterday Mark and I had the opportunity to spend 24 hours or so together - alone. This hasn’t happened in quite awhile, as we’ve been busy and much of what would normally be opportunities for alone time is swallowed up with obligations relating to work or school preparation or family. That being said, my mom offered to watch the kids overnight so we could go do something.
These situations provide us with the exciting opportunity to pick a place to go, which is at the same time great and incredibly frustrating. This magical place (which, by the way, doesn’t exist) can’t be too far, but it shouldn’t be too close either. We can go to close places any time, and usually do. It should be something we both enjoy doing, which, for us, isn’t that difficult to manage. It should be something that isn’t overrun with other people’s children. After all, why have a babysitter and then go hang out with someone else’s children. It should be somewhere outside if the weather is nice and inside if the weather is cold or rainy. Lastly, we both prefer something that provides some sort of physical or mental challenge or stimulation (museums, craft shows, antique stores, hiking, swimming, etc). In other words, if there was an indoor/outdoor adults-only museum/water park within 100 miles of our home, we’d be all over it.
We decided to get a late breakfast and head to Starved Rock State Park in Utica, which is one of the most beautiful places the midwest has to offer. It offers a museum, hiking trails, and river activities. We thought it’d a great way to spend a beautiful day... and so did, from the looks of things, 90% of south suburban Chicago. We waited in a traffic jam for a half hour just to get into the park. Proving that Chicagoans aren’t satisfied to leave their traffic jams in the city. They like to bring them out into the wilderness - after all, it wouldn’t be fair to keep all that smog, noise, and chaos to themselves. So after waiting to get into the park, there was not a parking spot, legal or illegal, to be had in the whole of the two massive parking lots available at Starved Rock. So we turned around and headed back to the main highway. I suggested we try out a cemetery where we could at least change out of our Sunday morning clothes and into some hiking clothes.
We went to a secluded hillside cemetery and changed clothes and wandered around looking at old graves for about 90 minutes. Then we decided to walk the shops for a bit. We both needed to use the restroom, and every store and shop we entered had the “no public restrooms available” sign in the window. Finally, we spied the Lasalle County Historical Museum... which was nice but I really just hoped had a bathroom. As soon as I walked in the door, there was a sign with a box that said “admission $1.00 for adults and $.50 for children” - guarded by a nice lady who told me all about what they had in the museum - which, for a small museum was a nice variety of things - from a carriage in which Lincoln had ridden, to a propeller that Charles Lindbergh broke when he ran out of gas in Lasalle County, to a desk on which Reagan had signed “blah, blah, blah” into law. I only say “blah, blah, blah”, because it was about that time when I tuned out momentarily. (Ridiculously long run-on sentence that would make my old English teacher cringe alert:) I mean, I heard the whole Reagan and desk and the explanation that there are special desks on which particular pieces of legislation are signed into law and those desks are parts of historical collections, which made my mind wander to the question of whether or not it’s fiscally responsible for a government to purchase a new desk for every piece of legislation which may eventually be considered significant. That thought and my pressing bladder-related needs and the fact that I was trying in vain to find a dollar in change in my ridiculously big purse to put in the box so she didn’t think that I wasn’t going to pay admission distracted me from paying attention to all the descriptive legislative details that I’m sure this volunteer had painstakingly memorized in order to regurgitate it quickly enough to keep the attention of the bladder-conscious that walk into the museum looking for naught but a bathroom break. We spent a good hour at the museum as well, having found the bathrooms that we sought but being delightfully sidetracked by the rock that Chief So-And-So had liked to sit on when he came to visit a particular Utica, Illinois, family. He would only eat the white-man’s food when he sat on this particular rock which was passed down for a couple generations in this family and eventually donated to the museum. Sometimes I can’t help but get a chuckle out of the things that museums have. I asked Mark if he thought that many years from now a rock that I sat on might be found outside a museum somewhere with a plaque explaining it’s less-than-obvious significance. He said, “Um, do you sit on a rock?” I said, “Well, no I guess I don’t.” He replied, “Well, there’s your first problem.” So I guess I need to find a rock suitable for sitting.
I also like how museums like to use the words “might have” as if something that might have been used by someone famous is as good as something that was used by someone famous. When I read the words “might have” or “like the ones used by”, I move onto the next dubiously qualifying museum relic.
However, this experience has caused me to rethink my dailies in light of the fact that the things I use - in the unlikely case I should ever become as famous as an Illiniwek chieftain of whom I had never heard - might become venerated by generations of people to come. I have begun to daydream about plaques that read the likes of:
The Slagter Spatula
To the right is the remnants of the
early plastic spatula the likes of which
Marcie might have used when making
the traditional family breakfast pancakes.
It is believed that she stopped
making pancakes almost entirely
in about 2011 when she took to
receiving food prepared for her
(perhaps using this same spatula)
which she would only eat whilst sitting on the rock
made famous only by her sitting on it.
(This rock is also on display in the historical gardens next to the museum.)
Anyway, we enjoyed the museum which mostly consisted of enjoying each other enjoying the museum and followed it up with an ice cream sandwich at a local shop for lunch. After visiting a few more places in town, we decided to brave the park again. We took for granted that the fact there was no longer a 30 minute wait to get into the park and that there were several legal parking spaces available this time was a step in the right direction. There were still way too many people there for my taste, and as I exclaimed, “You can’t throw a rock in this place without hitting a person,” and “Look at all these people with their dogs and puppies - just think of all the dog poop we can step in today,” Mark said, “Can we just go to the visitor’s center and see how it is?” I reluctantly agreed, and we headed toward it. People were bumping and jostling, and I was annoyed. So we headed for a trail. The trail head for most of the trails is in the same area, and it was so jam packed full of people that it looked like the Exodus. This, coupled with the fact that there far fewer English speaking people than people who actually spoke English made it even stranger. I mean, we’ve been hiking a lot lately but not with thousands of other people. As we approached the end of the main trail head, there was a sign that read, “Last Trash Can - Dispose of Trash Now”. We glanced over to see a recycle bin that was heaped over and onto the ground with empty water bottles. It would have made a great photo had we remembered to get the camera out of the car.
We broke off onto some less crowded trails, and I really did end up enjoying myself despite making remarks about him leading me off into the wilderness with a bunch of strangers. On the way back to the car a couple hours later, we ran into a large group of Jewish teenagers on a field trip with their synagogue. I asked Mark if he thought that they would appreciate a joke about their heading into the wilderness for 40 years, and he said no. So we skipped that. We created our own passing lane, which was nice especially considering that as we were coming down the last trail some people with a dog that couldn’t walk down steep steps were trying to coax him (which wasn’t working) and were holding up a line of like 100 people... including us. Passing lane in place, we were able to pass lame dogs, bulky strollers, and pregnant women with ease.
As we approached the main trail, a European couple merged in front of us. He carried an expensive camera and hummed a fantastic tune, and they both wore backpacks. As she gestured toward an empty water bottle that he carried in his pack, it tumbled out of his pack and onto the sidewalk in front of us. It bounced once and into the air at which point I grabbed for it, and after bobbling it a couple of times, caught it. The man looked at me and declared loudly in a Scottish brogue, “Wow! That was amazing.” “Thanks,” I replied, and we kept walking. I must say that the accent combined with those words directed toward me were a nice way to top off a great day.
We then proceeded to Red Lobster, to which my husband had purchased a gift certificate with award money from work. I have to brag on him... as he would never brag on himself. He was voted “master craftsman” by the management and guys in his shop at work, and received a $500 gift which he could divide up into gift certificates at various places. He gave me $100 at Bed Bath and Beyond which I reluctantly :) spent on a featherbed and an iHome . He also bought us one at Red Lobster which paid for all of our meal there.
The best part of this story is that we were able to enjoy the homecoming. Everyone thinks they have the world’s best children... but they’re wrong. We do. Well, at least they’re best for us. I often tell about the things they do that are bothersome or outlandish or ridiculously mischievous, but they never cease to amaze me - and not only in the “I can’t believe they did this” kind of way.
Lately, Levi has been showing concern for others, and it’s like a newfound project he enjoys. I returned from a doctor appointment a couple weeks back, and he said, “Mom, I’m wondering how you did at the doctor?” When I took Violet on Friday, he asked, “So how did Violet do at the doctor?” When Claire came home from her dad’s today, he said, “Claire, I’m so glad to see you again.” He developed a fever at my mom’s house on Sunday evening, and on the way home he said, “Yeah, last night when I didn’t feel good Grandma kept telling me she was sorry. I told her, ‘Grandma, it’s not your fault. You don’t have to keep saying sorry.’”
Mondays are especially busy for me, as I take a meal to my hospice patients, drive into town and take a meal to my grandma with ALS, and take Austin to a 2 hour driver’s ed... all with family in tow. So we were glad to get in the car after a long evening, and Levi sighed, “Ah, the whole family’s in the car and rollin’ home. I like that.” I like that he likes that. Sometimes I just appreciate how literal he is, and how thankful he is for the little things that adults so often take for granted. A few days ago his simple prayer at supper was, “Dear God, thanks for parents to hold hands with so that you don’t get runned over by cars.”
Our family isn’t perfect. It’s not always easy. We’ve been coping with some big changes as my beloved Grandma has been diagnosed terminal with ALS. We have always been very close to our grandparents, and this change has come at a heavy emotional cost. But part of God’s grace to us in our times of struggle comes in the form of our children. And in a society where children are often throwaways and cast-offs, I acknowledge the simple blessing that each of our children undeniably are. They add a degree of levity to difficult situations and sometimes a much-needed distraction from the heavier cares of life. If you find yourself getting frustrated, annoyed, or just plain tired of dealing with your kiddos, you’re in good company. It happens to every parent, but as Austin opened the door for me as we entered his first driver’s ed class on Saturday and was met with a compliment from the teacher in front of all the students/parents present, it occurred to me that the difficulties of parenting eventually pay off in the rewards of a pleasant adolescent and even farther down the line an adult child who is truly your friend. As my grandparents are experiencing, it can even someday include grandchildren who provide meals, accompaniment to doctor appointments, and house cleaning - all for love’s sweet sake. None of these things happened overnight for my sweet grandparents. They will have their 60th anniversary in December, God willing. They have had their share of trials and trouble. They have struggled through thick and thin. They only had one child, but they gave him all they had, and that was all it took to have a houseful of people loving on them in times of greatest difficulty. How deep the Father’s love for us - that He enables us to love one another.
