Snow White at the Emerald City Theatre

Saturday morning we headed out in the frozen slush and drove to Lincoln Park to take the girls to lunch and a play. Lunch was at the very affordable Salt and & Pepper Diner, which is virtually across the street from the Emerald City Theatre. Not surprisingly, nearly all of the families we saw eating at the diner also ended up in the opening day audience of Snow White.

The schtick behind this particular performance, which is officially titled Snow White as performed by Professor TJ Barker's Troupe of Theatricals, is that the actors was running late and missing many of their fellow actors as well as their entire orchestra. But because they are a dedicated group, they pitch in by playing multiple roles and all of the musical instruments. Seven year old Zoe was intrigued and kept asking me if their train really was late or if that was part of the show. And because her brain has been washed by Walt Disney, she couldn't help pointing out the inconsistencies between this stage production and the animated film. (We had a post-show discussion of "artistic license.")

Four year old Ada was unfazed by the breaking of the fourth wall and unfamiliar costumes and songs. She was so completely rapt Josh and I had a hard time keeping our eyes on the show--it was so much more fun to watch her reactions--wide-eyed wonder at the beautiful princesses, lip-biting glee at the wicked stepmother's evil plotting and smiles at the silly antics of the ragtag dwarves.

And like all of the Emerald City Theatre performances we seen, this one is designed for children 3 and up, but totally tolerable for adults (in fact, this one was quite enjoyable). The show is 1 hour long with no intermission and snacks and drinks are allowed in the theatre. Tickets are typically $16 for adults and $13 for children, but Valentine's Day weekend kids can take their grown-ups for free with the discount code SNOW.

Disclosure: I received media passes to this show.

MCA Family Day

When it comes to its art collection, the MCA lives in the long shadow of the Art Institute of Chicago. But when it comes to welcoming families, their monthly Family Day events are second to none.

Unless you take public transit there, it won't be a cheap day--we paid $32 to park in the MCA lot--but with free admission (typically $12/adult and $7/child) and coat check, hours of hands-on activities, free kids' meal with adult entree purchase at Puck's and free snacks in the Tot Room (kid-friendly fare like clementines, fruit snacks and Goldfish), it is a fantastic deal.


I was delighted by number and variety of art activities organized for the families (3-4 crafts, an artist-led tour and a scavenger hunt) and how many red-shirted volunteers were there to work with the kids. And while families streamed in pretty consistently between 11 and 2--when we were there--it never had the chaotic crowdedness of a children's museum on the weekend.

Support your neighborhood toy store

I had the privilege of attending a blogger event at Building Blocks toy store in Wicker Park on Thursday evening. Co-hosted by store owner Katherine McHenry and ASTRA (the American Specialty Toy Retailing Association, the evening offered a rare chance to browse the toy aisle without my two little gimme-monsters, meet toy inventors and chat with experts on why supporting your local toy shop matters.

Saturday, November 12th is Neighborhood Toy Store day, so if you haven't made it into Building Blocks in the city or Geppetto's in Oak Park or Berwyn's Toys and Trains (or source for Playmobil sets) recently, kick off your holiday shopping with a stop at a business that stocks quality toys, donates to local schools and charities, has staff on hand to make suggestions and gift wraps for free. Yes, you can buy a lot of toys for less on Amazon or at Target, but if they become as commoditized as book and music--well, a lot of great neighborhood business owners will suffer. And so with their communities.

But enough with the Debbie Downer. Building Blocks is the kind of toy store I remember from my childhood. Its all narrow aisles and crowded shelves and toys jam-packed from floor to ceiling. Unlike Geppetto's, where shopping is more akin to browsing a museum of elegant (and expensive) Waldorf-approved playthings, Katherine has European toy brands like Haba, Corelle and Klein family favorite Playmobil cheek to jowl with inexpensive Alex arts and crafts supplies, LEGO sets and award-winning games. I even spied a beautiful set of Hebrew ABC blocks. She even confessed to stocking a handful of Barbie dolls so that no birthday gift shopper need go elsewhere. I bought a roll of paper for our art easel, a set of creamy crayons and 3 books Z can write and illustrate (gift wrapped for her birthday).

But I went home with much, much more. ASTRA sent bloggers home with two bags filled with the toys independent shop owners had votes the best toys of the year--awesome, inventive toys like an updated potholder loom, a make-your-own safety pin bracelet kit, a teaching cash register, nanoblocks and Tegu blocks. I'll be writing more about them as they get doled out, likely for Chanukah.

Another highlight of the evening was meeting toy inventors Peggy Brown and River Forest's own Bruce Lund. They were autographing their toys, The Cat's Pajamas card game and Doggie Doo, respectively. We broke out both games this weekend. The Cat's Pajamas, a silly, simplified version of Go Fish that involves "speaking cat" is a delight, but my high hopes for Doggie Doo--a game in which players compete to see who can make a plastic dog pass a gummy turd--were dashed when it turned out that getting the dog to go was a long, frustrating process that involved way too much kid fighting and parental intervention. And the wet, flatulent sounds that accompany the doggie doo's approach are truly, em, realistic.

UrbanMom Salon: This blowdry comes with babysitting

Marketing to moms has become a lot more sophicated and nuanced than it used to be. Or is it just that moms are more sophisticated?

No matter. The point is that speaking to moms (who make the lion's share of household buying decisions) is no longer a one way street, with Madison Avenue pitching images of the perfect housewife to legions of potential Hoover, Frigidaire and Jell-O purchasers. Read the NY Times' recent article, Pitching to Real Moms, the Ones Who Aren't Perfect, which quotes Leo Burnett Chief Creative Officer Susan Credle (my boss's boss's boss).

When it comes to converting moms to customers, one of the smartest decisions a business can make is to listen to what moms want. Ever since I visited Portland, Oregon with a 10-month old (6 years ago now), I've bemoaned Chicago's lack of family-focused spas and coffee shops. Zenana Spa in Portland offers child care while moms get themselves pampered and plenty of West Coast coffeehouses boast a playroom (or corner) where small children can play while their otherwise socially-isolated parents hang out.

Well, Chicago finally has a spa for moms! UrbanMom Salon on Damen, offers hair, nail and waxing services while your children are well cared for by a babysitter from Chicago Nannies (brand synergy!) in a nicely-outfitted, secured playroom (or "playoasis," as they like to call it). Because they're brand new and looking to build buzz, I was offered a complimentary blowout this weekend. I took my 4-year old along, and while she looked a little shy as she was introduced to the nanny on duty, she begged me not to make her leave one hour later. And while there was lots for little kids (tunnels, kitchen, trains, art supplies and bubbles to name a few diversions), the management wisely included a Wii to entertain older children. Child care is $7 for the first child and $4 for siblings.

But as nice as it is to be able to bring your kids along, are the services up to par? It takes a lot to break up with one's stylist and put your head in someone else's hands. I'm happy to report I was thrilled with the blow dry I received. Even though I said I typically have my stylist tame my curls with a blow dry followed by a flat iron, stylist/manager Tara convinced me to go with a wavier round-brush blowout.

I got a lot of compliments!



Incidentally, UrbanMom Salon is very close to Little Beans Cafe, a family-focused coffee shop with an elaborate indoor playspace.

A reason to see Blue Man Group again

Blue Man Group enthralled me when I first saw it about a dozen years ago. Since then I've largely forgotten about the long-playing art-theatre-concert-comedy show, throwing it in the same category as Navy Pier and Brazilian steak houses--cool the first time you go, but pretty much just for tourists.

But Blue Man Group has reinvented its show for the era of iPads, text messaging and Lady Gaga. Josh and I went to see it Wednesday night and laughed pretty consistently throughout. It's a delightful performance (if a little heavy on the texting jokes) that flies by in flurry of audience participation, physical humor, pounding beats, flying marshmallows and a finale that includes dozens of rolls of toilet paper, dancehall lights, loud music, hi-def video and giant balloons.

I can't wait to bring my second grader. It is going to Blow. Her. Mind.

Disclosure: I was invited to see a press and concierge night at the Briar Street Theatre and my tickets were comped.

Zoppe: A real family circus

On the recommendation of a friend, we headed into the city Sunday afternoon for pizza at Coalfire and a free afternoon performance of Zoppe, an old-fashioned Italian family circus.

The big top was set up at the pitifully underpromoted Brilliant Corners of Popular Amusements festival in West Town, and we stood outside the tent in a steady rain for half an hour before showtime as the performers (relatives ranging from 17 months to somewhere north of middle age) danced with kids, performed a few silly tricks and drummed up interest for the show.


Finally, we entered a smallish tent lined with wooden benches that smelled of rain, infield dirt and buttered popcorn. The show itself was magical. As was watching Z and A's faces as the dozen members of the Zoppe family clowned around, tight-rope walked, swung from the ceiling, and performed other acts of bravery and balance. I was particularly impressed by the twin ponytailed 8 year old boys, who shimmied up a 20 foot pole balanced on their dad's shoulders and stood on their heads at the very top.

As we drove home, I asked A what her favorite part was.

"Every single part was my favorite."

A breathtaking production of Peter Pan

You may have see seen the 100 foot high circus tent at the corner of Chicago Avenue and Halsted, but unless you attend a performance of threesixty's Peter Pan, it's impossible to grasp the magic of what's happening inside those white canvas walls.

I saw the show Wednesday night with my friend Jani and our first grade daughters. Although no one sits more than a dozen rows from the stage, we were in the fifth row--close enough to see the stripes on Wendy's nightgown, the seam on Captain Hook's socks and the clothespins and neckties holding together the ingenious two-puppeteer contraption that is the Crocodile.

The show is done theatre-in-the-round style, but with two added bits of magic. The actors whip through the air like acrobats, unimpeded by tent poles; and every member of the audience gets to experience the sensation of flying thanks to the production's one-of-its-kind 360 degree movie screen backdrop. As Peter, Tinker Bell, Wendy and her brothers soar out their nursery window, we're transported over the rooftops, London Bridge and 400 square miles of CGI London. The girls' eyes widened and mine got a little teary (I'm a sap like that). Jani was suitably impressed but felt a little seasick.

This is not community theatre. Sparing no expense, the sets, costumes, effects and acting are all top-notch. If you're familiar with Walt Disney's Peter Pan, you'll find this telling of the story familiar. But the idiosyncrasies of threesixty's production are so creative and amusing they made for some of my favorite memories of the play: the animals played by fully visible puppeteers; the mermaids performing aerial acrobatics as the screens took us into an underwater realm; and Mr. Darling emerging at the end of the play from... well, you'll have to see that bit for yourself.

I was provided with free passes to the show and complimentary refreshments. Tickets start at $35/adult, $20/child and can be purchased at the Tribune Tower box office or online. We parked 1 1/2 blocks east on Chicago Avenue for $8.

Don't Let the Pigeon Steal the Show

We're big Mo Willems fans here at the House of Klein. It's pretty much assured that an Elephant and Piggie, Pigeon, Knuffle Bunny or one of the Brooklyn-based author's other marvelously zany children's books makes it into our weekly library checkout pile. In fact, you may recall seeing this video of Z reading There is a Bird on Your Head at age 4.

So how does a 4 minute read like Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus become a one-hour musical at the Emerald City Theatre? For starters, the show is actually a retelling of four of the Pigeon books: Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus, The Pigeon Wants a Puppy, Don't Let the Pigeon Stay Up Late and The Pigeon Finds a Hot Dog. Just as in the books, Pigeon plays the part of the wheedling child, but instead of putting the reader in the position of limit-setter, this time it's the children in the audience who get to deny Pigeon his greatest wishes.

Seeing the books performed one after the other crystallized for me the similarities between the stories and their overall benefit as parental reinforcement for limit-setting and rule-following. But the show isn't the least bit preachy. It's a high-energy romp complete with song and dance numbers, audience participation and plenty of physical comedy. (And in a nod to the "hidden pigeon" in all of Mo Willems' other books, you'll catch a few glimpses of Knuffle Bunny on the Emerald City Theatre stage.)

And for what it's worth, all four of us are still singing the catchy "I wanna puppy" song a full week later.

Disclosure: We received media passes to Don't Let the Pigeon Steal the Show. Tickets are typically $16 adult, $13 child.

Are no reservations policies anti-parent?

Saturday morning around 11am we arrived at Hot Chocolate, $10 A la Card coupon in hand, for a much-anticipated pre-Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus brunch with our girls.

"It's going to be a 45 minute wait," said the hostess. We looked at the packed lounge area and tried to envision keeping our children occupied and happy for 45 minutes before our meal even started. They're well-behaved kids, but they are still kids. We'd actually tried calling Hot Chocolate the day before to make a reservation, but the restaurant has a no-reservations policy for smaller parties.

We knew better than to risk it, so we walked down Damen to Silver Cloud Bar & Grill, a step down cuisine-wise, but a solid lunch and perfectly kid-friendly.

Which got us to thinking: are no reservations policies inherently anti-parent? Being awakened at 6am by young children has certainly enabled us to beat the rush to other breakfast hot spots, but we avoid places that don't honor reservations when lunching or dining at popular (read: normal) hours. We also avoid no reservations restaurants for date night. If we're paying a babysitter by the hour, it simply isn't worth it to spend half our evening in the bar, waiting for a table.

So why is it some trendy/foodie places take reservations and some don't? It doesn't seem to any way correlate with how popular the place is or how highly rated their food is. If all of the tables are full of paying customers, does it matter how many hungry people are hanging out in the entryway or freezing their butts off outside? Or does management figure they are better off scaring those pesky parents and their crayon-toting children away.

Don't look for first aid at the Field Museum

I'll show you a splinter

The following is a guest post from Josh, Mr. Marketing Mommy. 

I used to take Z and A to various area museums and attractions on a fairly regular basis, but since they started 1^st grade and pre-school, respectively, it’s a practice that has mostly fallen by the wayside. Between school and other commitments, mornings are out, and as for post-school/nap afternoons, traffic (both street and museum) is pretty prohibitive. As for the weekends, well, years of touring deserted museums first thing in the morning have more or less spoiled me away from all the teeming throngs of tourists who show up on Saturdays and Sundays.

So it was with excitement that I packed up the kids to hit the Field Museum this morning, along with friends, for our first visit in quite some time. Needless to say, the girls had a blast working their way through the exhibits, from the stuffed animal dioramas to the mummy’s tomb and finally to the children’s play area (which inexplicably opens an hour after the museum does, at 10am) for crafts, dress up, music and general play.

Somewhere alone the line, though, Z got a splinter. Not a huge one, mind you, but visible, and sticking teasingly, tantalizing out of her hand at a conspicuous 45 degree angle. No prob, I though. I’ll find a first aid kit and yank it out with some tweezers. What transpired was somewhat distressing, to say the least.

First I went to the front desk at the children’s area to ask if they had a first aid kit. The woman looked perplexed, and began digging around in several drawers. She pulled out what looked like a first aid kit, but it was a sewing kit. A couple of minutes later, and the best she could come up with was a second sewing kit. I asked her where I can find a first aid kit, and she starts scrambling to come up with weirdly Byzantine directions – “turn right, then right, then left, then right again” - that sent us deep into the bowels of the Field, down several barely-marked corridors and past several locked doors, in search of an alleged first responder station that we never found.

Frustrated, I took Z to the nearest gift shop to ask for better directions. The woman looked at me like I was crazy. “Ummm, hmmm, first aid? I don’t know. Sorry.” Sorry doesn’t cut it, so I asked her if she could, you know, call someone. She actually paused for a minute, deep in thought, though I have no idea what could possibly have been going through her mind other than “should I call someone?” Which she eventually did, and which eventually led us upstairs in search of security.

I found several closets, more closed doors and janitor supply stations, but no security, so I went to a ticket seller in the front of the museum, told her our rapidly lengthening story, and asked for security. She pointed me to the lone guard standing by the ticket sellers and told me he could unlock the first aid room for me. So I approached him, and asked him about first aid. He, too, paused and thought a bit, then made a phone call. He then told me to go back downstairs and search for someone in a white uniform, who was apparently waiting for us at the bottom of the stairs.

Keep in mind this whole time Z was bravely and patiently walking around with her splinter-hand stiff and stretched out.

We reach the bottom of the stairs just in time to see a man in a white uniform vanishing into some back room, but we catch his eye before he disappears. He looks surprised when I wave, then passes us off to yet another person, who looked to be another security guard. Emergency or no, this person did the farthest thing from hustling as she led us to the elusive first aid room and slowly unlocked the door. There I asked her, finally, for tweezers. She stared at me, then literally started turning the room over in search of tweezers. She looked in the paramedic bag. She opened drawers. She looked in baskets, cabinets. She gave me permission to open doors, bags, drawers and cabinets, too, all while Z sat on a bed, at this point closer to bored than uncomfortable, since her friends and sister were still off having fun.

Eventually, this person, too, made a phone call. After a few questions, she hung up the phone, turned to me and said: “we don’t have any tweezers.”

So after all that confusion, all that back and forth, one of the most visited museums in Chicago couldn’t find one of the most basic of all first aid tools. Not the most reassuring conclusion, even if Z gamely said she could just wait until we got home, not that we had a choice at that point. An hour later, I finally plucked the thing out of her hand myself, much to her relief. I’m tempted to buy a $10 first aid kit and donate it to the children’s play area in her name. If this is the way they handled a calm kid and a simple boo-boo, I’d hate to see how they’d handle at true emergency.

flickr photo by hchao17 used under Creative Commons license

We're off to see the Wizard!

I can't take my 3 year old to the movies, but she's sat stock still and absolutely rapt--forgetting even to blink--at the two theatrical productions she's seen at Chicago's child-friendly Emerald City Theatre. Having found Pinkalicious a sweet treat, we headed down the yellow brick road this past Sunday.

And while Pinkalicious managed to stretch a popular picture book into a 60 minute musical, this production of the classic movie musical The Wizard of Oz is a fast-paced, condensed version of the film that manages to pack all of the famous song-and-dance numbers and major plot points into just over an hour. The munchkins were cleverly done with puppets and an actor played Toto the dog. There were loud noises (hello, the show starts with a twister) and the drag queeny Wicked Witch of the West is no more huggable than her cinematic predecessor, but the scarier elements of the movie (like the flying monkeys) are much less intense in this version.

Although I'm a sucker for any musical theatre, I thoroughly enjoyed this performance and I've already recommended it to some friends. But the actors and director are only indirectly responsible for my very favorite part of the experience: watching my children's faces as they took in the show.

It also bears mentioning that at the very end of the performance, the children in the audience were invited to "send us an email at oz@emeraldcitytheatre.com." Naturally Z couldn't wait to do exactly that and her ransom note-looking fan mail received a prompt, personalized--if somewhat salesy reply. She was thrilled.

Disclosure: The Emerald City Theatre provided me with 4 tickets to the show.

Pinkalicious: Sweet as can be

I was a little late to the Pinkalicious phenomenon, but the book is a delightful read--one that speaks directly to my 3 year old and still appeals to my 5 year old. So when Chicago's Emerald City Theatre mounted a "direct from Off-Broadway" revue of the stage production, I snapped up* tickets.

Josh and I took the girls to the Saturday morning show. Unlike most of the small children in the audience, mine weren't wearing fancy pink tulle dresses or toting pink cupcake purses, but A had slipped on her favorite brown cupcake t-shirt, and Z refused to take off her pink jacket, so we didn't look like total misfits.

The crowd, not surprisingly, was young and partial to pigtails. Most of the little girls appeared to be in the 3 to 4 range--which makes a lot of sense, really. There isn't much theatre appropriate for preschoolers.

Z and A ate it up. I was curious how anyone could stretch a fairly short picture book into a 1 hour musical, but Pinkalicious manages with lots of songs, a sprinkling of audience interaction and the kind of slapstick humor that doesn't really tickle my funny bone, but gives my daughters fits. The fact that even my youngest could recite the plot points on the drive to the theatre helped a lot too: I didn't spend the entire 60 minutes fielding "why's that man doing that?" questions. Instead, knowing roughly what was coming next, their faces positively glowed with anticipation.

Tickets are $13 a child. Adults are $16.

*By snapped up, I mean I responded to the press relations agent who'd been sending me near-daily releases on the show with a polite request for review tickets.

Living History: Naper Settlement and American Girl Dolls

Saturday afternoon I took Z and A to Naper Settlement, located about 45 minutes away in Naperville. Z has become consumed by an interest in history recently, her interest stoked by the historical American Girl novels she checks out from the Oak Park and elementary school libraries by the stackful.

At Naper Settlement, we went back in time to the 19th century, sitting in on class in a one-room schoolhouse, touring modest and grand homes and watching demonstrations by a blacksmith and printing press operator. Z peppered all of the docents (some of whom looked to be high school students) with questions and remembered a lot of details about the workings of old homes and covered wagons from books and her visits to other historical sites like Vance birthplace and Living History Farm in Iowa.

I was surprised that, aside from one other visitor, we were the only patrons there on a beautiful fall Saturday afternoon. With admission prices comparable to a movie ticket and all of Chicagoland a short car ride away, I was surprised to be so outnumbered by costumed reenactors.

Only 3 years old, A didn't show as much gusto for the past as her big sister, but she patiently visited all of the sites, filling my purse with a natural history treasure trove of "chestnuts, acorns and rainbow leaves" every time we stepped outside.

The Vienna Beef Factory Tour: How hot dogs are made

If you think that an intimate look inside a Chicago hot dog factory would make me think twice about eating one, you'd be wrong. Surprised?

Today Josh and I took the Vienna Beef factory tour. After removing our watches and jewelry and donning hair nets and white butcher coats, we stepped onto the factory floor for a no-holds-barred view of how hot dogs are made. This was no Jungle. We saw men speedily debone beef briskets; we peered into giant mixers as they blended ground brisket fat with bright red bull meat; and we viewed bucket after giant bucket of the pale paste formed when the two beef products are pureed with corn syrup, salt and seasonings. I watched as vats full of hot dog paste were fed into casings and wheeled into a vast smoke room to be cooked.

We learned about the differences between natural and uncased sausages and found out the demand for the former comes from hot dog stands and the latter from grocery stores and small children. Did you know natural casings are sheep guts? They import them from New Zealand. Another fun fact: when the plant moved to its current location in the 1970s, the taste of the meat changed slightly. The remedy? Bringing in the old smoky bricks from the old South Side factory.

I also discovered Vienna Beef has a special recipe just for Portillo's that contains more nitrates and water for a longer dog with a juicier, snappier bite. (I still refuse to eat there.)

Our guide, the former production manager, answered all of our questions without hesitation. When asked how the recession had affected sales, he said demand stayed flat. Vienna Beef hot dogs are mostly sold in the Chicago area and their products are more expensive than the competition (but worth it, according to him as they use higher quality ingredients). He freely admitted hot dogs were unhealthy ("Me, if I want fast food, I usually go to Chipotle"), and concurred that the standard dogs were a lot tastier than the natural, nitrate-free versions.

The factory was immaculately clean and smelled pretty good--especially the area near the smoke room and in the soup room, where 3 giant kettles were cooking chili. You won't find Vienna Beef's soups on your grocery store shelves--they're sold in giant containers to restaurants and food service outlets. Their chili, for example, is served at Culver's.

After circling the entire factory floor, our guide led us upstairs to the quality control room. There we joined a group of employees sampling all of the items that had been made that day, from pastrami and corned beef to cased and uncased hot dogs, Polish sausages and soup. Our appetite whetted, we headed to the factory cafeteria (which is open to the public) for a free lunch of hot dog, fries and a soft drink.

Vienna Beef only started offering factory tours in May, and according to the marketing representative we talked to, demand has been overwhelming. There are a lot of hot dog lovers out there, and while no one is going to convince anyone hot dogs are health food, it's a brilliant PR move to show that Vienna Beef hot dogs have nothing to hide. There's no "mystery meat," no unsanitary conditions, no ill-treated workers.

And the tour? It's free.

We made t-shirts at Frankie's

Thanks to an invitation from one of my oldest and best blog friends, Sara, the kids and I joined a few of my other favorite bloggers at the Lincoln Park tween boutique Frankie's on the Park. We headed upstairs to the Graffiti Bar, where you can page through binders of graphic transfers and have them applied to a tee shirt or hat.

We'd brought our own tees, $2 tank tops from Old Navy for the girls and an old ringer tee of Josh's, and the girls picked their own designs.

Notice anything different about Z's ears?

A chose a cupcake and I added the number 3 to her back since she's almost 3 years old. Her collection of cupcake tee shirts is now at three.

Check out the big-eyed shy face she's giving the employees

Z picked a retro-ish dog and the number 5 after lingering over a glittery penguin and some cheese-ball dolphins.

After she'd warmed up a bit, A checked out her new tee in the mirror and hung out with Carrie's daughter, whom she'd met at the farmers market a couple of weeks ago.

We couldn't find the perfect design for Josh, so the girls decided to have "DADDY" emblazoned in 70s-style letters on the front.

The red sea

Let it be said that while the Blackhawks players are a tasty bunch, Blackhawks fans as a whole look kind of trashy. At least those pumped enough to fill downtown Chicago streets for the ticker-tape parade and rally today. I saw girls who'd managed to slut-up their red t-shirts with some creative cutting and twisting. Those tees were paired with big hair and super-short jean cut-offs, rolled up.

They were a sight to behold. And the guys? Suffice it to say I saw a lot of big guts, mullets and long goatees. The Loop smelled like day two of Lollapalooza: sweat, sunscreen, cigarettes and port-a-johns.

But the energy was palpable and that was kind of cool.

The photo is a view of the parade from my office window taken on my Blackberry. I'm looking south to Washington. Click on it for a closer look.

Wordless Wednesday: Chicago Spring

photo credit goes to my 5 year old

Chicago's best photo-op

While I've had brunch (and enjoyed the views) on top of the John Hancock Building a couple of times, until Monday I'd never been to the top of the Sears--nay, the Willis--Tower. Its taller, but due to its South Loop location, less glamorous than its Mag Mile skyscraping cousin.

But thanks to a tweetup organized by Kim Moldofsky, my whole family got to take in Chicago from 103 stories up. We were treated to free entry, oversized cookies, VIP line-jumping and unlimited photo-ops on the Skydeck Ledge, a brilliant example of tourist catnip if there ever was one.

Josh and I weren't scared. Z was a little cautious at first. And A wouldn't put her feet down anywhere near the glass.

Chicago's lakefront: a 5 hour staycation guide

Yes, Chicago has a lakefront. And yes, I'm embarrassed to admit August arrived before I finally took my family to the beach. Check out our day in the sun over at the Chicago Moms Blog.

From the Chicago Moms Blog:

This past weekend I took my family to the beach. Foster Beach, to be precise. It is the first time this summer that I've taken my family to the beach, and I'm a little embarrassed to admit that the last time my girls dipped their toes in Lake Michigan we were 90 miles away from Chicago--in Michigan!

We left Oak Park at 8:30am for breakfast at Andersonville's Tre Kroner. After washing down our Swedish pancakes, French toast and a Stockholm omelets with goblets of too-weak coffee, we drove east on Foster Avenue to the sprawling Margate Park, named one of the country's best playgrounds by Cookie magazine (although they get the address wrong). My 4 year old loved the imaginary fishing pier and monkey bars while my 24 month old monopolized the truck--which is fortunately equipped with two steering wheels.

As the sun rose higher in the sky, we loaded the stroller up with beach towels and rolled under Lake Shore Drive for the walk south to Foster Beach. We passed families setting up elaborate picnics, couples on blankets and lots and lots of dogs. Which makes sense when you see that the entire north end of the beach is a dedicated dog beach. We abandoned our stroller and shoes just south of the doggie dividing line and headed across the sand, shovels and buckets in hand.

You'd think I'd taken my kids to the Bahamas, they were so excited. Waves to jump in! Sand to squelch! Water to carry! They wore themselves out with delight, working up an appetite for more food.

Lunch was coal-fired pizzas at Spacca Napoli, about 10 minutes away by car. My toddler put away two pieces of Pizza Margherita and acquainted herself with the restaurant's restrooms, which she visited three times in 40 minutes (two pees and a poop, for those who care).

By 1:15 we were on our way back to the western suburbs, two kids dozing off in the backseat. We'd had a morning filled with good food, good fun and zero temper tantrums. If Z hadn't skinned her knee tripping over the curb on the way back to the car, we could have claimed no tears as well. I looked over at my husband as we merged onto the Eisenhower. "That was fun."

"Yes, it really was," he agreed.

A note for fellow suburbanites: One of the great things about Foster Beach that there is plentiful free parking. There's also a parking lot next to Margate Park, right behind the Field House. We had no problems finding street parking within a block of Tre Kroner or Spacca Napoli and both places welcomed our kids.

Review: Disney's Aladdin at the Chicago Shakespeare Theatre

I hate Navy Pier. If it weren't for Chicago Public Radio, the Chicago Children's Museum and the Chicago Shakespeare Theater, I'd be perfectly happy never venturing to the land of overpriced hot dogs, ice cream, tour boat rides and tourist-trappy theme restaurants/fun houses. And the parking--gah! $24 flat rate parking with no grace period. It's fraking highway robbery.

But still, the CST is a very classy joint. And at the Chicago Shakespeare Theatre right now is Disney's Aladdin, a marvelous stage musical that feels much bigger and more spectacular than an 11-person production has any right to.

The show is based on the 1992 animated movie not one of Z's favorite Disney Princess flicks, but one she's seen a couple of times. So she was excited to see it live "with real people." Her friend S, at 5 1/2 a year older than Z, hadn't seen Aladdin before, but she was an experienced theatre-goer.

The show did a good job of keeping the girls entertained and they were able to follow the plot pretty well. Right around the one hour mark S started asking if it was almost over and were there any snacks for sale. Fortunately the show is a only 75 minutes from start to finish--just about as long as two kindergarteners can sit still and stay (mostly) quiet.

I, on the other hand, probably enjoyed the show even more than Z and S. Yes, I loved it. I admit it. It isn't high art, but features a top-notch cast, beautiful sets and costumes and some great (if not-over-the-top) special effects. Hint: magic carpet ride.

I was a little disappointed that the orchestra was hidden away back stage (I thought at first that they were singing along with prerecorded music). But that's pretty much my only gripe. I can't even complain too much about the parking fees because the Chicago Shakespeare Theater offers patrons a 40 percent discount.

We followed the performance up with $5 strawberry sorbet cones and a little people-watching. Z didn't like the chunks of fruit in hers, so I ate it and bought her a $4 jumbo hot dog, which she enjoyed despite the poppy seed bun. You'd never know our economy was in shambles by the crowds at Navy Pier. It was choked with humanity--thousands of people balancing enormous soft drink cups on strollers filled with sleeping, sunburned toddlers, shouldering Build-A-Bear bags, licking ice cream cones, snarfing cheezy popcorn and cursing at the damned parking garage payment machines.

Disney's Aladdin is at the Chicago Shakespeare Theater through August 30, 2009. Tickets are $18 for children 12 and younger and $23 for adults, but you can save $5 on performances through July 31 when you enter the code BLOG at the CST website.