The Renaissance Festival

...or as I prefer to call it, The Cleavage Festival, was the not so grand finale of our Spring break festivities. The place is a freak show and I cannot recommend it. We fit in there like Mormons at a Hell's Angels rally.

I hated it.

Every single minute of it.

Admission and rides were overpriced, the food was mediocre, and the entertainment was ridiculous. In other words...the kids loved it.

Where else can your daughter buy a fox tail and wear it all day chanting:

I'm a fox!

Um, Huzzah?

Tradition!

{cue Fiddler on the Roof soundtrack}

As is tradition at our house, spring break begins with a list making ceremony wherein the children detail things they wish to do during their two week hiatus from math, social studies and a daily peanut butter sandwich. As is also tradition, their lists include Disneyland, trips to foreign countries and the purchase of expensive gaming equipment. While we don't promise to do everything on the list, we try to do as many as reasonable so at the end of 14 days, when they complain they didn't get to do anything fun, I whip out the document and prove them wrong (also a beloved family tradition).

This year, we crammed spring training baseball, swimming, movies, playdates, Build-a-Bear Workshop, multiple trips to the mall, a light rail extravaganza, the Renaissance Festival and a heart attack (no lie!) into that short break. I'm also proud to say, I took them on a little outdoor adventure ALL BY MYSELF. Sir William wasn't able to break away from work to join us, so I put on a brave face and did what felt natural. I brought a back up.

All in all, it was my kind of campout. During the ride home, The Squire passed around beef jerky while Lady May cuddled a stuffed panda she had 'brought to life' earlier in the week. They gnawed on their treats letting the quiet following a satisfying family excursion settle in. We drove along in silence for a few blissful minutes until The Squire turned to his sister and broke the spell:

You know that jerky is panda meat, right?

Sigh...

It's tradition.

Bored

It is Spring Break. By 7:12 AM on Monday, I had already heard the words 'I'm bored'. Awesome.

I immediately banned the word 'bored' from our Spring Break vocabulary and by Tuesday was asked: What is another word for bored? Seriously.

If being bored includes eating at a Food Network featured restaurant, Sunday dinner at Grammy's, three trips to the pool, a spring training baseball game, an afternoon at the cousin's house and a 6.5 hour play date with a friend...well then yes, I can see the trouble.

Today's boring adventure started on our local light rail. The mass transit gods smiled upon us as we ran into three generous friends finishing their own boring excursion with most of the day left on their all day passes. Score!

Past experience with public transportation has taught us that it can be a Who's Who in mental health. However, we were pleasantly surprised to find ourselves riding with celebrities. Lady May spotted P-Diddy, Bruno Mars and Sean Kingston riding with us. As it turns out, she believes all African American males in sunglasses qualify as Sean John, Puffy, Puff Daddy, P-Diddy, Diddy Dirty Money, Whatevertheheckhisnameisnow, Combs. I know this because we ran into him later in the day. Twice.

Our first stop was at an ice cream joint downtown I had read carried Lappert's ice cream. THE Lappert's ice cream!!! Sadly, we discovered this is no longer so; however, they do have a delicious habenero peach sorbet worth trying. After our less than Lappert's licks, we trudged back to the train for our next stop, a vintage sweets and novelty shop.




While there, we took a turn in the photobooth:


We left the Celestial Kingdom of candy with red stripped paper bags of licorice, bubble gum, silly buttons, Bit-O-Honey, a spyglass, and a switchblade comb, which the Squire used to threaten Lady May with all the way home. Incessant shrieking leads me to believe she can indeed be threatened by a comb {mental note}. She can also take some pretty cool pictures when you're unaware:


Yep, it was a totally boring day.

Translation: Loads of fun!

Wax Museum

Last week was our 6th grade's dreaded, despised, delightful Wax Museum; a scholarly soiree that would run Madame Toussaud right out of Vegas. Students spent a good part of the year researching their character, pouring over books and articles, filling stacks of note cards with details for their final report. Parents, on the other hand, use the time cursing the event all together. The reason this is so, is due to the inescapable fact that creating an effective, appropriate, non-embarrassing, yet cheap, costume for the evening falls on our sagging shoulders.

This year, the Squire chose to study Alexander the Great, born around 350 BC, best known for his many vast conquests and ruthlessness in battle. While I loathe the project, I too have been known for ruthless frugality and conquered many a thriftstore in my time. So, I deftly completed my part of the assignment and presented the costume for final approval: Princess Leah's dress, Cleopatra's wristlets, gold sash from my senior formal, headband of hot glued silk leaves, spray painted gold, and plastic armor.

Him: Uh, Mom? It's not cool to wear a dress to school.
Me: Hey, no biggie! Problem solved.


Just between you and me, it's probably even less cool to wear white knit maternity pants under your dress to school. But that'll be our little secret, mmkay?

One final question: How on earth do we get a character like the student sitting next to him?! Now that's some costume.

Her heavy load to bear

Last Sunday, I emptied the contents of Lady May's exceptionally hefty scripture tote. My inspection uncovered a random assortment of discarded gum wrappers, pens, pencils, bookmarks, a wad of folded printer paper, an assignment to read a scripture in next week's sharing time, a mood ring, lip gloss, hand lotion, several impressive sketches of silly monkeys, a mini hymn book, her scriptures, a bajillion markers...

and this little number:






I suppose schlepping all that junk around during church would cause one to work up an appetite.