Tag Archives: American Girl

Officer Matt

No matter where I travel, I always seem to return home with a story or two. Some have been quite interesting. Others downright show-stoppers. Last August’s girl trip had its moments as well. At first, we almost cancelled the whole shebang, because I am adamant about staying downtown near the Magnificent Mile. Because we dawdled a little too long, I wasn’t finding a hotel room for under $400. I love my girls, but that price was way over what I wanted to spend for a night’s lodging. I am in no way getting paid for this, but at the very last minute, I searched www.booking.com and (Shazam!) found a room for around a hundred dollars only a couple blocks from the American Girl store (which I failed to mention yesterday had moved locations since the last girls’ trip). I would be lying if I said I didn’t prance around the house saying, “Booking dot Yeah!” for a few hours.

When we arrived at the very upscale hotel, the concierge explained that if it was okay, we would be staying next door at their sister property. My elation at a good deal felt like the rug was just pulled out from under us. I am nothing if not a seasoned adventurer (Trust me people, I have slept in my van – not down by the river however – with three dogs while travelling back from North Dakota because there was no room in the inn for my four-legged buddies). My friends hate that I do that, but at least, I’m not like my one friend who used to camp out in cemeteries while bicycling across the country. I had no choice other than to agree to the relocation and hope for the best. The property really seemed more like an apartment building, but as long as we had a bed and bathroom we would be fine. We opened the door and nearly fell over laughing. We walked right into a one-bedroom townhouse complete with living room, dining room, kitchen, more closets than we could count, office, and lofted bedroom. We’re no dummies, and we thought we might be guests at the Roach Motel, but instead ended up feeling like we were real Chicagoans.

Union Depot, St. Paul, MN

As unexpected as the accommodations were, my favorite travelling story happened before we even left the station back in St. Paul. Due to the oil boom in North Dakota, the Empire Builder is now historically late. In fact, we had been notified that we might be placed on a charter bus (which has happened to me before) to get to Chicago. Since we had a sleeper car and were not connecting with another train, we were part of the group that was left to wait for the train. The delay was only a couple hours; so, we did the best to occupy our time while waiting.

Sally and Kit can hardly wait for the train to arrive.

But we wait we did!

Eventually, the station master signaled the call for all travelers to line up for the platform.

Gate C to Chicago!

After making it through the ticket gate, we descended the long escalator from the station to our assigned location. When you travel with little ones, you rarely get anywhere quickly. At the bottom was a smiling station security officer. As we were heading to our area, I heard a voice behind me.

Almost there!

Miss. Excuse me Miss. Do you have your ticket?

Sally and I both stopped and turned around, thinking the officer thought we were perhaps trying to sneak our way onto the VIP section of the train. I grabbed my boarding passes to show him.

No, I’m sorry, ma’am. I am speaking to this little girl here. Miss, does your friend (pointing to Kit, the doll Santa had given her a few years earlier) have her ticket?

A quick glance up at me told me she was asking if this guy was for real. Her glance was met with a shoulder shrug on my part.

Is he for real?

Um. That would be tiny little ticket, wouldn’t it sir?

Indeed, it would be. Where are you two girls heading?

Chicago. We are going to the American Girl Doll Store.

Well, I see. This seems to be a pretty big occasion. I will trust that you have your papers in order, but that is such a tiny little suitcase for your friend. Do you think she has enough clothes packed for such a big day?

Well, we are only going to be there for two days. I packed her pajamas and a special dress for when we get to eat at the fancy restaurant.

Do you think you might need to buy her an outfit while you are there?

That was kind of the plan.

Okay, well that sounds good. Has your friend ever been to Chicago?

No sir, but I have once. I was a toddler, but this is a trip that my momma does with each girl in our family. Now it is my turn.

I would have to say that is about the most wonderful plan I’ve ever heard.

A loud whistle told us all the train was coming into the station. I quickly made sure that Clo (who still struggles to hear things approaching from behind) was far from the edge of the platform as we waited for Engine 27 to pull in. While we stood back, I spoke quickly to the officer.

Can I ask you your name? Officer Matt. Officer Matt, you just made my little girl’s day. Thank you! You’re welcome. I have a little girl about her age, and I think of my daughter whenever I see a little girl standing on this platform. I try to go out of my way to brighten her day, hoping somebody is doing the same for my little girl. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. Thank you!

It was all the conversation we could squeeze in, as the train was trying to make up time, and we needed to board quickly. When we returned home, I called the station and the security company and gave a glowing report of the magic of Officer Matt. The dispatcher was bawling when I got done with my story. She said that most of the calls they receive are complaints, but that no one ever takes the time to say thank you. It touched her so much that she decided to do the same and nominate Officer Matt for a commendation. Then it was me who was choking up on the phone.

That conversation on the platform probably took all of five minutes, but it left a mark on me and my mini-me which rippled out to the staff of an entire train station. The world needs a few more Officer Matt’s who aren’t afraid to use their hearts and their imaginations to brighten someone’s day!

The Penny Dress

The Magic of Chicago – the first girl’s trip

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When the Girl Awesome was 4 years old, I stumbled across a great deal on travel. For $19 (that really was the cost), we could travel via train from Minneapolis to Chicago – ROUND TRIP. I called a friend and asked if she and her daughter, age 7 at the time, would like to join us on the journey. They did, and my friend found an incredible deal on a hotel. Both little girls were the only daughters in families with boys; thus, the whole point of the trip was to visit little girl mecca – The American Girl Doll flagship store. Living vicariously through our daughters, I think we were more excited than they were.

So that August found us waiting for the beautiful cry of “All Aboard”. We packed extra snacks and lunches, lots of activities AND a huge sense of adventure to keep two little girls occupied on the eight hour trip. The first thing that caught their attention was the fact that the car directly behind ours was carrying the United States Postal Service mail. Eyes wide, they never realized trains might be one of the ways that letters made it to their house.

The trip was pretty uneventful (which I know is a huge disappointment to fans of this blog since EVENTS seem to have a way of finding me). Okay, there was the incident when we attended church on Sunday morning where the poor lady (who hadn’t seen God’s blessings in a while) came in screaming about how she needed help and the church wouldn’t help her. After a scuffle with the ushers, our little girls didn’t know what to think of all that. Truth be told, neither did we – other than to pray for her and the guy at Dunkin’ Donuts who kept asking for money.

We really wanted to stay on our budget; so, we planned to eat out once to indulge in Chicago-style pizza and once more at the American Girl Doll restaurant. We were hoping to find a little grocery store and luckily, there was a bodega across the street from the hotel. Immediately upon arriving, our girls were chomping at the bit ready to head down the Magnificent Mile (what divas!) to pick up their dollies. N was dreaming of purchasing a Molly doll, while Erin was planning to get the Bitty Twins. Having older brothers at this point in her life, she never wanted to be called by her given name and preferred to be called “Kyle” which is the name of one of her older cousins. I am fairly certain the allure of the Bitty Twins was that one was a boy.

We marched our way down that street, taking in all the sights and noises. Girl Awesome was enamored with the horse drawn carriages, mostly because the horses wore blinders. When we arrived at the store, we simply took time to soak it all in – it was everything we had dreamed it would be and more. Finally, we chose our dolls (and accoutrement) which let me tell you people could cost as much as your first semester of college tuition. My little girl chose the whole package (dolls, double stroller, and souvenir t-shirts for dolls and girl). I left looking like a bag lady, while shoulders back and head up with a beaming smile, my spunky four year old proudly sashayed with her babies down North Michigan Avenue. While waiting for the crosswalk, we all asked what the twins were going to be named. After a few thoughts, she narrowed it down to Daniel and Kandy (pretty proud momma moment there).

The Girl Awesome with our namesakes!

She, of course, wanted to push those babies everywhere the next two days. It was cute at first, but after schlepping that stroller which has absolutely no turn radius, the cuteness more than wore off on me – especially when I had to pick it up and carry it all.

Our little prairie raised girls got a whole education on interesting behavior on that trip. Our arranged AND reserved lunch (which if you ever are going to take your daughter to one of these stores is personally my favorite) had amazing food (think four stars), impeccable staff, and incredible attention to details (chairs and dishes for the dolls). We had an assigned time but arrived early as requested and then proceeded to try to make our way through all the people who did not have reservations. Eventually I had to cover Erin’s ears because mothers were shouting at the maître d’ words that I think would cause sailors to blush. Past that chaos, our time in the restaurant was amazing and magical and everything a little girl would dream.

My family annually purchased memberships to zoos and science museums which we were able to use the reciprocity agreements while in Chicago, mostly for free. Using the free trolley for transportation also saved a ton of money; otherwise, we mostly walked and pushed babies. We attended the Museum of Natural History (long enough to see a dinosaur named Sue for our boys), Lincoln Park Zoo and the Chicago Children’s Museum. One afternoon, we stayed back at the hotel while my friend and her daughter (who was old enough) attended the play that was once a part of the American Girl Chicago experience. While they were gone, we went to the park and watched street performers and fed pigeons. In the evenings, we visited Navy Pier and took in the fireworks offered there, but from the amazing viewpoint of the former Hancock Tower.

On our final day, we voted on how to spend our time. The Shedd Aquarium won, even though it was a little more than our original budget. Eating sandwiches for supper was a worthy sacrifice, because the Shedd was worth every penny! But for this day, I decided that the dolls needed a break which was momma-ese for “I am not taking that ridiculous stroller or any baby I did not give birth to on that trolley one more time!” The room was in shambles, and we left “Molly”, who was clearly older, in charge of the sleeping Daniel and Kandy. Throughout the day, the older N kept teasing my little girl that she was going to be up all night if her babies slept the whole time we were away. This chiding continued off and on to the point, where the Girl Awesome was about to use up all her goodness and mercy.

Since this is something to fight over, it turned out it was N’s turn to use the key to unlock the door when we arrived back at the hotel room. I really wish that I captured her face when we walked in. The room was spotless, everything in its place, the babies were up and playing, and Molly was looking a little tired after a hard day of work. Astonished doesn’t even begin to describe it. N was awed by her dolly, such an amazing babysitter who not only watched little ones, but also cleaned the whole room.

Even as early as preschool, our kiddos were pretty seasoned travelers. My little girl knew exactly who did all that work, but for the sake of her friend, she didn’t . . . spoil the magic of Chicago!

May some little piece of childhood magic touch your heart today!

To laugh again . . .

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The first time I saw Sawyer the night of the bus crash was most the surreal moment of that evening. I already knew that Reed was gone, as did Daniel, but neither thought the other knew, as we were trying to protect the other one and deal with the horrors right in front of us. Wrapped in warm blankets to keep him from going into shock and barely lucid as medications were keeping him in a state of medically induced numbness, all that was exposed when I leaned over to kiss him were his face and ears, every inch wrapped tight. Before my lips reached his forehead, my eyes saw his ears filled with glass and bright yellow bus paint. This was much worse than the broken leg I had been told at the school. When I arrived at the hospital with my pastor and his wife along with two teacher friends, all I wanted to do was see Reed. I didn’t love Sawyer any less, but shattered bones heal. My heart longed to prove the news of our redheaded boy wrong, a case of mistaken identity. The hospital staff would not let me see Reed until I saw Sawyer because there were decisions we needed to make to save his life. When I saw the horrors of the day filling his precious ears, ones that look exactly like his grandfather’s, all the remaining joy from my world was sucked away.

The next morning when the nurses came to give Sawyer his first “bath”, they wanted to wash away the very visual reminders that still lingered. A tray full of glass fell out of his thick hair, and when they turned him over, other than those chubby, signature cheeks, there wasn’t a spot not covered in bruises, cuts, or stitches. For over a day, we were able to keep the news of Reed’s death away from him. Then an incident that I share more in depth in my upcoming book happened, and we knew that we were not going to be able to hold our secret much longer. The rest of the world was going on as we were suspended in some kind of distorted reality. He was in so much pain, and we wanted to insulate him from more.

Meeting with the grief counselor before we talked with him, I remember very distinctly saying that someday our family would laugh again. Our counselor, Mark, wiped away tears as he remarked we were incredibly strong people (I felt anything but strong) and how he was moved by our faith. We had some choices to make about our next steps, along with the words we would use to explain Reed’s absence, and our determination focused on how we would not ever let this define us, we would not allow our house (whenever we could return there) become a place of overwhelming sadness, and we would always let our love of Jesus carry us through. Visual images of Jesus laughing with little children became a real driving force in the days we endured. This could not have been more real than at the conclusion of Reed’s Celebration of Life. As the casket containing his earthly body was wheeled away, we had asked for the Star Wars theme to be played. Tears of sadness turned to tears of laughter as those present recognized the familiar tune, while our three pastors presided over the whole affair with light sabers. We could only imagine that Reed and Jesus laughed.

The first month, very little laughing, especially purposeful belly chuckling, occurred. As much as I wanted to crawl in a hole and lay next to Reed, I knew what that would say to our other children. No matter how badly we hurt, I did not want them to ever feel that they were second best, and there would be nothing worth living for now that our oldest was gone. While convalescing at home, we watched many movies to fill our minutes, the very minutes we were living through one by one. Although there were probably many opportunities to laugh, it didn’t come as naturally as it once did.

I remember very distinctly the first belly chuckle laugh that came bubbling out, despite my wanting it to. Even though we had made those promises to our future at the hospital, I wasn’t ready to live again when I really did laugh. I felt almost guilty doing so, because Reed would never laugh again. Sawyer was hurting so much we were willing to loosen our parental veto to let him watch a television show that I would not normally approve, and even Grandma said nothing about the show’s snarky sass. If you like The Simpson’s, this is not meant as a judgment, it simply wasn’t the type of show I wanted my eleven-year-old watching. He, however, found it amusing in his swirling cloud of pain medications.

I have a really bad habit of zeroing in on things that tickle my funny bone about the same time I am drinking something. Not very lady-like, but more than once, I have snorted sweet tea through my nose because of this unfortunate timing. Somehow this very thing would have produced rolling on the floor giggles from both my boys. This was no exception during the opening for the cartoon which snuck right up on me. As Marge flips through the mail containing a postcard from some exotic place, she reads the penned words while the audience sees the picture on the front featuring a voluptuous bikini-clad brunette with the words, “Wish you were her”. No that is not a typo on my part, nor is the humor all that funny, but at that moment a tea-snorting chuckle came bursting forth despite my best efforts to hold it in.

Until that moment, our nights had been sleepless, filled with agonizing pain-induced screams and night terrors and our days with sadness, grief, being overwhelmed, and bitterness. I did not want to laugh because I wasn’t ready to replace those things with something as ridiculous as base humor.

However, through the prayers of many and the determination to not merely survive, laugh I did! It was a pivotal point of new beginnings, replacing all those negative things with love filled ones. More chuckles and laughs came (as did more tears), until eventually the day came when we laughed so hard we cried. After that came the point where we looked for ways to make other people laugh, something for a while I never fathomed possible. I am incredibly thankful God had other plans as those moments of joy did finally come.

Hoping laughter finds you in your corner of the world today.

On a recent girl’s trip, Cloie with her American Girl doll, Kit, got a little carried away with the window washing equipment. That experience proved to be too much for the poor doll.

Even the workers at Chicago 360 chuckled at our antics. Poor Kit passed out from the height.

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Tag Archives: American Girl

Officer Matt

The Penny Dress

The Magic of Chicago – the first girl’s trip

To laugh again . . .