Kids always have fun at the art museum

The carful of kids eat their lunch under the trees in the park. The temperature starts to heat up in the Heat Wave of 2012. We head indoors to the Art Institute of Chicago. Did you hear that too? It is the kids groaning. I know I am the mom dragging the kids through the art museum on vacation. I hope that eventually they will learn to live life through an artist's eye. Not everyone falls in love with art at the first sight or feels it in their soul. If that doesn't happen, I am hoping that enough exposure to art will at least produce some appreciation later in life. We get ourselves in line and Melissa decides to head to the gift shop. I think she needs a moment away from the kids. It is the early afternoon in what I call the "whining hour". Am I crazy? Why am I taking my two boys into an art museum? That is right, I am in Chicago, I love art, I haven't been here in 15 years and I deserve some cultural enrichment. I have tutored my kids every afternoon during the school year. I have sat through every performance. I have driven the kids to countless practices. I have slept on concrete floors for scout sleepovers. I think the kids can take three hours in a museum for good not so old mom. That being said, at the present I am trying in vain to get the kids to at least show some respect for the people around us who are enjoying the art. These people are now shooting the kids "the look". Moms out there know "the look". The one that says "why don't you take those kids to the playground. Somewhere we are not." Well, if kids are only exposed to "kid only places" how do they learn to function in the adult world? I know some parents that take their kids to cultural events are usually doing it with one child at a time. I am bringing my carful of kids and I am out numbered. I am hoping for the best.

I buy tickets for the adults. The museum lets the kids in for free. Great! I can get used to that. Next stop, the entrance--where I see the BIG sign that says "No backpacks, no food, no drinks". Melissa looks at me and grins, "What are you going to do with that big backpack with drinks and snacks?"
"What are you taking about--my purse with the supplies to keep my kids alive." I reply. Sure enough I am told to take my backpack to the coat check. Melissa shoots me a sideways glace at the pesky sign reminding us "No Food, No Drinks".
At the counter, coat check attendant asks, "Do you have any food or drinks?" "No, I don't" I hand over my bag and walk off.
Melissa deposits her bag and leans in "What are you going to do if we get back and there is a trail of ants marching to your backpack of snack, treats and drinks?"
"I guess tell them they need a good exterminator."

We run through the museum, absording art as we go along. The Art Institute of Chicago is a great museum, we see our fair share of old Masters as well as their American counterparts. The carful of kids are engaged for first 30 minutes. But even my artsy daughter is starting to fade out after 45 minutes. They are now racing from gallery to gallery to sit on the benches. Good spot for them. Well let me tell you, the security guards of the Art Institute do not hestitate to correct your children. I personally do not have a problem with that. I am tired of telling my kids to slow down, sit up, behave, et cetera, et cetera. Maybe if another adult tells them--they will listen. Sure enough, they get their first reprimand, "No lying on the benches." Of course, I am enjoying the art and not looking at the lounging kids. I didn't hear anything so I assume everything is good. I sneak off to the next gallery. Those aren't my kids. Sure enough they follow. The carful of kids behave for the next few galleries. Then I hear "No running" Geez Really. I grab my middle child by the hand and now he is my museum buddy. We continue on at a fairly fast clip to see everything I want to see before they close. Somewhere along the way the middle child gives Mom the slip. They now are in a gallery that doesn't have benches. So what do the carful of kids do? They lie in a pile on the floor. This doesn't go over well. Of course they are reprimanded for a third and final time. We are about done, I shuffle the kids out the gallery and head to pick up my backpack of snacks. I get there just in time. A fly is circling my bag.

On our walk back to the hotel, an easy walk for adults, but another test for mom's determination--we discuss dinner. I am a foodie and trying to raise children who will eat real food. I checked out Diners, Drive-ins and Dives before we left town. I know that there is a great Italian Market down the street from our hotel. The carful of kids need some pool time but we don't have enough time for dinner and pool. I am trying to convince my best friend, Melissa, she needs to get dinner and bring it back to the pool. The kids will scarf down the food and we get a few moments of peace. She is a little hesitant at first but soon realizes that I have the best plan. She heads to Panozzo's Italian Market on Michigan Avenue. I get everyone into swimsuits and make some cocktails for the ladies. We head to the pool. The kids dive in before I realize that there are no towels. Ok. What do I do? I can't leave the four year old unsupervised. I can't take three wet kids to the lobby. I don't have my phone. I decide to send the eight year old son. He is willing to go. He will have to navigate the elevator on his own, get to the first floor, and ask the front desk clerk for towels. Just what every hotel wants--a wet eight year old dripping across the lobby. Off he goes on his mission with a "may the force be with you". Sure enough my boy shows back up with towels. Good for him! And looky there--here comes housekeeping with more pool towels. All it takes is one wet kid in the lobby.

Melissa brings back some delicious roasted chicken, sausage and peppers, with a couple of pasta salads even lemon shortbread cookies for dessert. The meal is delicious, even better poolside. The chicken has been brined for juiciness and rubbed down with herb butter and roasted to perfection. We also try house made sweet sausages and peppers. It is served with marinara that is made in house. My husband is a classically trained chef, this mom knows the real stuff when she tastes it. We also sample the Pesto Pasta salad and the Penne Margherita, both solid sides. The Lemon Thyme Shortbread Cookies are delightful. I love the sophistication of the thyme but not noticeable to the kids. I thank Melissa for the heroic effort on dinner and we drink our new favorite drink, San Pellegrino Limonata and Vodka at the pool.

You would think that this crazy mom would call it a day--but no. We head back to the room change clothes and grab a cab for Navy Pier. We can watch TV at home. The carful of kids take their first cab ride. As a former NYC resident, this is a treat for me. The kids handled it like champs. The kids are all eyes as the cabbie takes the corners a bit faster than Mom. We get to Navy Pier a few minutes later and the experience costs me $10 plus tip. The Navy Pier is the Chicago's number one attraction. It was constructed in 1914 as a commercial pier and entertainment area and was named after the Navy personnel that stayed there in WWI. It is 50 acres of parks, gardens, shops and restaurants as well the departure point for many sightseeing boats. The carful of kids take a stroll down the pier. My youngest decides to take a ride on Thomas the Tank Engine. The carful of kids really want to try the ferriswheel but the adults decide to take a sail on the tall ship Windy, a 148-foot four-masted gaff topsail schooner. Since it was the last departure of the night, it has a pirate telling ghost stories. The kids love the stories and Mom loves staring at the lights of the Chicago skyline. We spend an hour sailing before we head back to shore. After our trip we head back to the hotel. No problems getting the kids to go to sleep tonight.