PSA

I'm not one to workout, but today, folks, I am exercising my freedom of speech (feeling tired already!) I am advising anyone who may be looking for a cab in the Chicago area to steer (ha!) clear of 303 Taxi. What a TERRIBLE company! Because I don't care to remember the details of this experience any longer than I have to, I will not be rehashing the situation, but I will share with you my first-ever Yelp review (one-star review only because zero stars was not an option):

What an AWFUL experience! I called several days in advance and specifically requested a minivan cab that could hold three car seats and two adults for pick up at Midway. After waiting outside with three kids who are under six years old in the very cold Chicago winter, the minivan cab finally pulled up but was MISSING SEATS. Had I known that my specific requests would not be honored I would have called a different cab company that could meet my needs. Side note: the cab was disgusting dirty, the seat belts didn't lock, and customer service at the company is HORRIBLE. They wouldn't even refund me the difference in price between a car and a minivan even though the minivan that picked us up had no more seats in it than a car. If you want the last memory of an awesome vacation to be the AWFULNESS that is 303 Taxi, then by all means book with this terrible company. I would rather hitchhike with my kids than use their services. UGH!

Side note: This happened on January 19. As of yesterday, my complaints with the company still hadn't been addressed.

And because of that, I can also say that I have officially filed my first-ever complaint with the BBB. I am asking for "A measly $8 to be refunded to me (as that is the difference in fare between a town car and a minivan). However, it is clear to me that customer service--and doing right by the consumer--is nothing 303 Taxi is concerned with if my complaint for such a miniscule amount has escalated to this level."

The BBB has advised me that my complaint has been forwarded to this company and that they have 10 days to respond. Update to hopefully follow.

In the meantime, and every time after that, in no way will I ever again be asking this company for a ride. I hope you will remember to forget riding in their cab as well!

Camryn said the F-word. And meant it.

 

This darling dear has a dirty mouth. And it spews the F-word. It started on Thursday while her and Mason were playing in his room. After I stopped laughing at how funny it sounded coming out of a little mouth, I started to quiz her:

Me: Camryn, do you mean truck? Book? Look? Jump? Stuck?

Camryn: No. Fuck.

Ok. So she is saying what she means, but I have no idea where that came from as my choice of word is dammit. Unless, of course, we leave Camryn’s damn (see, there it is) Glow Worm in the Meijer parking lot, in which case I may have said the f-word (ok, I for sure said it. Don’t judge me. It was appropriate for the situation.)

To make light of this: I am relieved that this is not one of her first 10-words so that I don’t feel obligated to include it in her baby book. Which reminds me, I really should start filling out that girl’s baby book. Poor third child…

Par-tay

I was a mom volunteer for Mason’s Valentine’s Day party. And because he goes to a park district preschool they are allowed to call it a Valentine’s Day party, can serve food among children who have—gasp—food allergies, and can personalize their Valentine’s cards however they choose. Enjoy this ride, buddy, because next year in public school things change in a real crap-o-la kind of way…

[Mason’s favorite part of the whole party was decorating and eating his sugar cookie. Notice his sleeveless shirt? It wasn’t 85 degrees that day, he just flew under the radar of my babysitting mother. Eh well, no one ever died from going sleeveless in a climate controlled room…]

[The program director advised us that Bingo would be a huge hit. So we played it. And by played it, I mean that the kids had no idea what they were doing, so instead they shoveled their candy hearts straight down the ol’ hatch…]

It was fun getting to see Mason interact in his school environment—and since that kid absorbs nothing that I tell him, it was great to see his surprised little face when I showed up at school as if he had no idea! And it also hammered home the fact that I will never be a preschool teacher. Good grief those kids are high maintenance!

The Holidays are upon Us

Said Jacob: Is Valentine's Day the holiday when we eat turkey?

Convo with Mason:
Mason: Today is Presents Day.
Me: Actually, it's President's Day.
Mason: Oh. Well, do we still get presents?

Leave it to Mason.

Mason is playing basketball this winter. "Playing" is a loose term I will use to describe how Mason dances around on the basketball court with arms positioned on top of his head like moose antlers all the while not really understanding a single objective of the sport. A very expensive photo-op is how I would describe his playing sports at this age. (And ironic that I call it that since I don't have any pictures to document him playing basketball...) Getting to my point: Mason attended his first two practices of the season, and told his coach that his name is "Dusty," as in Dusty Crophopper the airplane. The coach bought the line, and Mason was known to all on the court as "Dusty." Fast forward to the first game. When we arrived, late as per our new usual, Grandma Joan whisked our baller over to his coach where she was told that "Dusty" was not on the yellow team, that he was, in fact, on the orange team and that he had missed his game. Whaaaat? Joan, having no idea who the heck "Dusty" was, told the coach, "I have no idea who the heck Dusty is, but this is Mason." And then the light bulb moment: Turns out that Mason had been switched between teams--something that was not communicated to anyone but the league administrators--and this "Dusty" character was on no one's rosters (obviously). Mason's altered state of reality had caused an information crash among the YMCA personnel. Once all puzzle pieces were assembled, we learned that Mason was "Dusty," and that Dusty is now on the Orange team. So several weeks later, Mason is still jokingly greeted by the refs as "Dusty," and not a Saturday has gone by that Mason hasn't asked: Why do they keep calling me Dusty?
Another story that will be used to explain why Mason is the kid who will be living in our basement when he is 40. Good gravy!

Snow fun.

After Jacob and I were able to dig ourselves out of the snow, there was nothing left to do but have fun in it!

[King of the mountain. Jacob essentially deconstructed the shoveling pile that I had worked so hard to make as he transformed it in to a mini-slide…]

 

[…Complete with a tunnel. Made navigating the waist-high snow much more manageable!]

[After three days, our mail was finally delivered. But can you really blame the postal service for going on hiatus?]

  

[Camryn loves to be outside. Even in cold, snowy weather. She is checking out the trail that Caleb blazed to the front door. I was clearly not interested in preparing our walkways for visitors. Plus, Caleb needed something to do!]

NOT PICTURED: Jacob and Mason sledding down our dozen deck steps. With so much snow, you couldn’t even tell there were stairs, so why not turn that steep incline in to something fun?!

ALSO NOT PICTURED: Having way too much fun at the sledding hill. Jacob and I went twice before the rest of the family came home, and there was a kid-made ramp of snow in the middle of the hill that we tried to hit every time down. What I know now: my old bones do not like to be airborne in a sled. Feeling older than my age today, but loving every minute spent sledding with Jacob.

I guess it snowed.

We got slammed with a 30 hour snow storm over the weekend. What began as rain on Saturday evening had turned to snow by Saturday night, and by 5:30 Sunday morning several inches of snow too heavy for the snow blower had fallen. I know this because at 5:30 Sunday morning I had the task of clearing our driveway so that Jacob and I could get to his wrestling tournament before 8:00. And where was Caleb? He and the other kids were in a much less snowy Iowa helping his dad who just returned home from surgery. Good grief!

This is what our back deck looked like 16 hours in to the whole production. Grim!

Because the snow was so heavy, using a snow blower proved impossible for the first 24 hours of the storm. So my shovel and I became best friends. Not exactly what I was hoping to spend several hours of my Sunday doing! Lucky for Jacob, being a kid in a snow storm is FUN. He ditched his hardworking momma and headed over to my parents’ house for a slumber party that included snowmobiling!

  

Finally—whew—at 9:00 Sunday night I had dug through enough of the snow so that I could use the snow blower. I was able to clear off a path just wide enough to get the ol’ Civic out of the driveway before the blower ran out of gas. What luck! Snow was still coming down, but I was calling it quits. I spy our mailbox, do you? 

Fast forward to Tuesday. Jacob and I went to work clearing a larger path of our driveway so that Caleb and the kids could park in the garage. Aren’t we sweet?!

Since the initial 17+” of snow we received over the weekend, an additional few inches have fallen this week. And through all of this, I have learned that—holy smokes—shoveling and snow blowing that much snow kills your grip strength. Wondering if I will ever be able to make a fist again…