Saturday night, we headed downtown for Venetian Night with the kids and a couple we have gotten to know here who don’t have children (but like them). Taking four kids out to a packed downtown event is pretty much always nerve-wracking; doing it with other people, especially newish friends, is even more so. What if the kids act up? What if we have a meltdown on the El platform or in the middle of a busy street? What if somebody takes off or screams bloody murder? What if our crew is totally overwhelming and noisy?

As it turned out, we took two busy trains, walked through hordes and throngs and crowds of people, dealt with a deli that was almost completely out of food, walked many more blocks to find a spot on the grass, watched 20 minutes worth of (fantastic) fireworks, and then went home–and, besides a little whining, the kids were totallly fine through it all (perhaps shocked into cooperation due to all the chaos). Though we were, of course, somewhat distracted by trying to keep tabs on everyone, we were able to enjoy the gorgeous summer night and the company of our friends, who turned out to be very cool about handling the downtown chaos with all our kids in tow, (even though I think sometimes they weren’t sure how we could possibly be keeping track of them all).

Sometimes we avoid taking them downtown because it seems like such a hassle overall, but even just getting there is part of the experience for the kids: the “twain” ride, which thrilled my two-year-old; the crowds of people downtown, which intrigued the olders:

Isaac: Mom, this looks just like a scene out of a movie about New York City!
Me: Maybe you could say that New York City movies look just like a scene out of Chicago!
Isaac: Good point.

And boy, did they all sleep well that night.

Yesterday was my birthday. We went out to breakfast at a local diner, then headed home for me to start my day of doing absolutely nothing–the ultimate gift. My kids and hubby gave me a sweet little gift package with some lotions and balms and things (I am a sucker for little bottles of lotions and balms and things!) and, drumroll please, season 2.5 of Battlestar Gallactica. (As a general rule I don’t watch a ton of sci-fi, but one of the first shows I remember loving was Dr. Who, and so far the two dramatic series I’ve been most addicted to were the X-Files and BSG. I guess I’m a sucker for a good storyline and drama. And aliens and robots.) And then we wound up watching eight episodes in a row, because OMG, how can you stop when there’s a half-Cylon baby on the way and political unrest and cliff-hanging battle scenes and flashbacks that you aren’t really sure are flashbacks? Reluctantly, we turned off the TV at about 2 AM, vowing to watch the remaining four or five episodes this week.

Too late a night, too early a morning. Off to try to wrangle lunch and maybe take a trip to the grocery store. And then come home and come up with some story ideas to pitch. It can’t be all fireworks and sci-fi around here, after all.