The house was a sprawling lake cottage, built in the 1800s and added on to ever since, a comfortable wood-paneled abode (with wifi and Netflix!), with nooks and crannies for everyone.

A short walk down the road was the shared beach, warm and safe for kids.

We had told Milo not to bring his soccer ball to America, that surely Aunt Becky would have one, so imagine the dismay when we woke up on our first morning in warm summery America and we couldn’t find a ball to kick around. Easy fix for that, suburbia has plentiful shopping. The Diamond Lake house had a generous expanse of grass for lawn games.

Big Lake Michigan was less than an hour away, so we took a couple day trips there. I love the sand dunes near the lake. I have great memories of jumping down sand dunes in my younger years, and though my back wasn’t giving me leeway to do much besides hobble, I still like the mountains of sand we had to slog through to get to the water.

The Harro family always pockets a ball to toss on the beach, a tradition I need to rekindle with our little family. “Woof!”

Hugs from Abi!

Down there at the end of the table is my uncle Ted, Aunt Gretchen, and cousin Duncan. They treated us all to lunch at this fantastic little cafe, after our play at Lake Michigan. We used to call Uncle Ted “Uncle Visa.” In my younger years, he was one of the uncles who would splurge for treats, and pay with his credit card. Those were the days when my parents, ever slow to adopt technology, still budgeted in cash, and we assumed paying with plastic was reckless. I have this distinct childhood memory of going with him to the grocery store to buy ice cream, analyzing the prices for half gallons, and advising him which was the cheapest. “Yes, but this one is the BEST,” he said, reaching for some fancy creation in a round pint container, and flashing his Visa at the cashier.  Quality matters.  Good life lesson, Uncle Ted, thanks!

The day after our Lake Michigan trip Uncle Ted rented a party boat on Diamond Lake–it fit all of us simultaneously! Captain and first mate there.

Lounging on the boat!
There’s Milo, cousin Duncan, Aunt Gretchen, Dara (Aunt Susanna’s partner), Aunt Susanna, and Omi.  

There was a shallow section of the lake where boats anchored and swimmers jumped out into the warm water. Naomi fell in love with Aunt Kelsey’s sun glasses.

Milo turned out to be quite the tepid swimmer. He complained of being hot when we first arrived in America (head plus humidity is something new to him), then had no tolerance of even mild water chilliness. So he lounged on deck, surveying the rabble below.

After that first sunny weekend we had quite a fair bit of rain while we were there. Warm rain, gentle with no wind, very different than we get in New Zealand.

We did puzzles, read books, and watched DVD’s of James Herriot, TV shows from the 1980s. We all knew the stories and how they were going to end, as we’ve read the books and seen the shows countless times before, but that doesn’t diminish our enjoyment….another peculiarity of the Harro clan.

Aunt Rebecca and Aunt Kelsey played kids’ Cranium several dozen times, until Milo declared himself the master of the frog jumping challenge.  

One morning Rebecca and I took the kids to a little local playground, dodging the rain drops.

Those grain elevators make a bit of an unusual backdrop for a playground.

Every American summer vacation includes s’mores!

S’mores in all their gooey glory.

We had a couple beer tasting opportunities, much to Jeremiah’s delight. The craft brewery scene seems to be doing well in the States.

Our 12th anniversary rolled around while we were there, and we went to Bell Brewery in Kalamazoo to try a flight of their beer.

The owner of Bell Brewery has collected paraphernalia from all over the world to decorate the pub. That Wedding Ale was one of my favorites–it had honey in it and you actually tasted the honey in every sip.

We went to Lake Michigan another afternoon, this time to a town beach (hence the crowds). It was the strangest weather I’ve ever seen–fog off the lake, but very hot out. Almost like steam. It was bizarre.

There’s a carousel at this beach, and ice cream stores…and we visited both.

There are few things that I miss about America, besides family. On this trip I was reminded about fireflies. They’re fantastic. This picture doesn’t do them justice, of course, but imagine a grassy field at dusk alive with gently fluorescing dots gently streaking around. And that’s completely normal, a part of every warm summer evening. Sorry NZ glow worms, you’re out-shone.

Chicago is a big city. The greater metropolitan area has 9.5 million people,the third largest city in the USA. That’s more than twice the population of whole of New Zealand. My parents live an hour train ride from the downtown area, and one of the first evenings after we arrived, my sister Rebecca, Jeremiah and I took the train down town to a food festival called Taste of Chicago. We hit the city right at pedestrian rush hour. The gleaming sky scrapers towering over the hurrying suits and ties certainly reminded me that we weren’t in friendly little NZ anymore.

At Taste of Chicago we promptly lost (or had stolen off us) a strip of food tickets, but we did enjoy the best people watching of the whole trip. Inner city folks are just so colorful, and my plain jane brown hair with unfashionable shorts and sandals don’t hold a candle to the creative decor the locals flaunt. I was too scared to ask anyone to actually pose for us, so unfortunately I haven’t got photo examples of what I mean.

I did, however, get a portrait of these two dudes, who were casually hanging out in the park eyeing up the crowds. I even had the nerve ask them who the heck they were, and why they were carrying all the military gear. Apparently they’re part of the Chicago police force, just there in case any terrorist decides to try something. “If you see us running, you just run the opposite way,” they advised us. Yes sir.

The food festival was set up in a park on the Lake Michigan shore, with big impressive buildings being engulfed by big impressive clouds. Also a novelty, the summer evening stayed warm. I had told kiwi friends before we left that I was looking forward to being WARM, and the Chicago summer didn’t let me down.

This is my mother’s garden, with their cozy house beyond. They live around the corner from my grandparents, and visit them daily.

Naomi admired the garden, and so did dozens of folks that came through on a garden tour. My mom has kept a pretty flower garden for as long as I can remember, and my dad appreciates it as well. It’s not the English formal garden style that many Kiwis favor, more the whimsical cottage garden that I grew up loving.  And with the heat of a Chicago summer, stuff was growing FAST.

We were back in Chicago for a couple days after the Michigan lake house, and spent another day in the city, this time with the kids. Lucky chicky, getting a ride from Abi.

Maggie Daley park in down town Chicago is similar to Margaret Mahey playground in Christchurch, but bigger. I was glad we had a high adult-to-child ratio here, seems like it would be an easy place to lose a kid in all the fantastic tunnels and towers and slides.

Trump Tower. It’s real. It’s gleaming. And it’s sitting proudly along the picturesque Chicago Sanitary Canal that was so polluted that its direction of flow was reversed so that it no longer enters Lake Michigan. Hum. Neither  of our families talk much about politics, so we actually heard far less about Trump and his tweetings while in America than we do while in New Zealand.  It was a refreshing break.  

Ben and Jerry’s Ice Cream for all. Do you know that they don’t sell kiddy cones or even single scoops? If I had been smart I would have paid for a double but asked for just a single for the kids. But maybe the realization that one CAN have too much ice cream to eat is a healthy thing for kids.

Back in suburbia we went to spray parks (Aunt Becky loves spray parks).

And we went to playgrounds (Aunt Becky loves playgrounds too).

Aunt Kelsey baked with the chillens.

And bought them cool sunnies.

We ate family dinners (those are Harro-sized portions, most definitely).

And generally enjoyed being a family unit. Grandparents rock.

I have to admit, flights with the kids are easy now that they are both enthralled with screens. While watching they will proclaim neither hunger nor fatigue. They will watch like zombies to the exclusion of all else. It’s magic.

Our flight from Christchurch to Auckland was mid afternoon, and rather than sit around the airport for six hours waiting for our evening flight to Los Angeles, Jeremiah organized a bus into Auckland. We hit up a couple playgrounds for the kids.

This one had an under-water theme.

The Sky Tower in Auckland (designed by BECA, the company Jeremiah works for) is an iconic landmark.  Naomi insisted on wearing that faerie skirt for the trip!

We purchased our first ever airline upgrade for the overnight flight to California–the “sky couch.” Little flaps under the seat snap up and make a sleeping platform, a concession for my bad back, but the kids liked it too. It’s still in “cattle class,” but it revolutionizes the overnight trip.  Of course, the kids only slept once we turned off their personal movie screens.

We sent my mom a heads up on the quantity of luggage we were toting by way of a photo of our car on the way to the airport. I like the idea of traveling light….but I also like the idea of bringing presents back to family and friends, and then returning with new clothes from America. We were definitely NOT traveling light.

We certainly felt like we were traveling heavy when we got to Los Angeles and the walk from terminal 1 to terminal 7 was approximately 1.2 miles. Actually I have no idea how far it was, but it was long enough for us to appreciate that we were not in little NZ anymore.

“Welcome” and “US Customs and Border Protection” don’t normally go hand in hand, and the friendly verbage lost a little of its bounce as we descended the one-way escalator to the LONG winding line with attendants shouting “keep moving, don’t stop!”
We joined the queue of babbling humanity awaiting entrance to the USA, and at long last, as we are neither terrorists nor illegal immigrants, we made our way through and on to our last plane to Chicago.  

And it turns out that Milo’s good at rugby. He’s focused. He’s competitive. He’s coordinated. And at this age, that makes him good.  He won Player of the Day after one game, and Player of the Month last month.  

Go kiddo.

I pulled on my pants and made the bed before leaving my room.  It sounded like it might be a while before I was finished “admiring” their handiwork.  Thankfully my door opens inwards, because the hall way was choked with dining room chairs.  I clambered over the green stuffed chair to reach the bathroom door.  The dining room table sat squarely in the kitchen, blocking the way to the kettle.  I sighed.  Then I thought of Kyla.

School holidays have once again come and gone. I coped better this time. Other moms talk about the relaxation of the school holidays, a break from the scheduled life, contented home days….it all sounds so nice. Except that it doesn’t work for Milo. And what doesn’t work for Milo won’t work for me either. You see, a bored Milo very quickly becomes an incredibly naughty Milo. And a mother beset by a tyrannically rude six year old quickly reaches the end of her tether. This time I made a plan for every day that he and I were home together. We were lucky that the weather cooperated, so our plans involved some nice outtings.

This was our Hagley Park day, with friend Stella (and her little sister Nina). The leaves were perfect, sun dappled and dry.  The girls hatched out of their egg nest repeatedly.

Japanese maple, in fall glory. I once when I was in college I sent a pressed Japanese maple leaf to my grandmother, and she wrote back wondering if I had sent her a marijuana leaf. The subsequent letter included both a maple leaf and a marijuana leaf (it doesn’t take much figuring to guess which classmates to ask for said leaf). I still giggle every time I admire these frilly maples.

Naomi and Stella tucked themselves away in the tree crevice to hide. The botanical garden has some great specimens.

We basically spent the whole day roving from one climbing tree to the next, occasionally adding to our collection of pretty feathers and leaves and petals while stopping frequently to eat peanut-butter-honey sandwiches.
As we were heading at last to our car we passed an elderly couple strolling along. “Four?” the old lady asked. “Yes, but two are mine and two belong to a friend,” I responded. “Oh, that’s easy,” she gloated. “I had five.” I smiled and nodded, but inwardly fumed. What was that snide comment meant to accomplish? Does it make her feel more respected to make me feel less so?

One day we met friends down at the water-side walk near Govenor’s Bay. Low tide exposed the rocks, and Milo turned those rocks to expose hundreds of little crabs. Imagine the six-year-old’s joy in terrorizing the hapless critters, listening to their frantic scuttling to safety every time he lifted off their roof.

I’m sure we have posted a picture of this rock before, an ancient specimen from the time that the Lyttelton harbor was the center of an active volcano.

We splurged on treats from She Chocolate after our walk, always a nice ending to the morning. The only problem is that it leaves an electronic banking trail betraying to Jeremiah that we’ve been having decadent sweets.

We did get a tour of Daddy’s office recently, and learned that he has a machine that can make him hot chocolates or barista coffees any time he wants at the touch of a button. There are some perks to being an engineer, apparently.

Naomi and I crowned the holiday with a trip to the cushion theater (Oz was playing). Milo was a bit sad to miss out on the theater trip, but he was busy earning player of the day at his ripper rugby match, which brought him great satisfaction as well.

“The girls did a play today,” Milo said, wrinkling his nose. “They put on dresses and twirled and called everyone over to see. The second time only the girls came.”
“You could watch and clap and tell them they’re pretty,” I suggested, thinking I had a teachable moment for future relationships.
“When girls do a show, they don’t actually DO anything. They just get up there and talk. It’s SOOO boring!”
Yeah.
Girls think that “just talking” is the stuff of life. Boys think talking is purely a means accomplish something tangible. It’s an unbridgeable gulf, it seems.

“Mom, can you cut my nails? It hurts when I put my finger in my nose.”
The request comes from the back of the car on our way home from preschool. I guess she’s been doing some nose excavations while at school….

Jeremiah and I were brewing a batch of beer Saturday morning when the kids came out asking for lunch. “Right, I’ll get you a sandwich in a minute,” I promised, as I checked the pH of the cooling wort. I must have said “just a minute” a few times before they disappeared, prancing back with fully laden plates, pleased as punch with their independence (and their chocolate cookies).

Here’s one of the many forts Milo’s building these days. Hurray for removable couch cushions–they’re the main structural element for most of the creations. “You know, when I was your age, I used to LOVE building forts too,” I told Milo. “Were you good at it?” he wanted to know. “Yes, I was good at it.” I don’t objectively remember how good at it I was, of course, but that’s besides the point. Milo seems to think that daddy’s good at building things and mommy’s not, an unfair judgement which I’m doing my best to shift.

It’s the fate of the second born, to be always one step behind the older sibling in doing new stuff.  The advantage (though she doesn’t know it yet) is that nothing is REALLY new.  She’ll have been going to this massive classroom filled with 70 rapidly moving red bodies for two years before it’s her turn to don the uniform.  

I have, however, been working on bike safety on the way to the library. Do I earn bonus points for that?

Naomi’s latest social development is play dates–both hosting and being invited. They’re entirely more peaceful affairs than Milo’s play dates; no wrestling, no racing. The biggest controversy is over who wears the pink dress-up. I left Naomi at her friends’ house for two hours one afternoon, while I worked cozily on the computer and sipped a coffee. I used to have interludes of quiet like that EVERY DAY while Milo napped. It really is true that you don’t know how good something is until you lose it.

Every night Naomi tucks Nina and Scarlett into the safe wall-half of her bed, while she sleeps precariously on the outer half. Strangely Milo, who has never been very affectionate to his stuffed animals, has started to copy her.

Gardening is a patience-testing activity for a child. Just a week after Milo planted his lovingly-watered carrot transplant he was asking if it was ready to pick. Thankfully, he soon forgot about its existence until this week, and it really WAS ready to pick. There’s a very proud gardener.