Butterflies Are The Coolest

Last fall we went to the American Museum of Natural History for the first time and fell in love with it. My dad, because he is awesome, got us a family membership for Christmas. Yesterday, we finally got there again. My original post here was going to be about the top ten things to see there, or how to help your kids enjoy museums or something to that effect.

That was before we went to the Butterfly Conservatory.

Now you are stuck with an entire post about how freaking cool butterflies are and how you should get to the museum before June 22nd, when the exhibit closes (though it's apparently an annual exhibit, so you can always go next year.)

We met the guy on the right immediately upon walking into the vivarium. 

"Vivarium" means indoor enclosure for raising live plants and animals. I feel like I should have known this already, but I didn't. 

Hot Guy would like a butterfly vivarium in our dream house. This one was like a very hot

greenhouse filled with tropical butterflies. I could handle that. Especially if I could make up names for all the butterflies, since I failed to retain any of that information from today. 

I tried to photograph them flying around. I failed, for which I'm blaming my camera and not

my inability to capture action shots. Thankfully, for as many as there were flying over head, there were almost as many pausing to rest. I want to call this butterfly "Ebony and Ivory". Is that song in your head now? 

I want this  butterfly to be called, "Darthfly", but I would settle for "Gothfly".  

They had a bunch still in their pupal stages, we got to see one emerge. 

We all had butterflies land briefly on our heads, but then this one landed on Hot Guy and would not leave. The butterfly kept using her (it could have been a boy, I have no idea) proboscis to poke at Hot Guy like he was a fruit to be eaten. Because butterflies do not do something as potentially gross as chew food, they just drink liquid through their proboscis. Like I imagine supermodels do. 

And then ANOTHER one landed on Hot Guy. He is like the butterfly whisperer. Or he used magical butterfly attract-er soap in the bathroom. Or something Poor Ironflower wanted one to land on her hand so badly. But they just wouldn't. They only loved Hot Guy. 

Well, Hot Guy and my butt. One landed on right in the middle of mine, I was kindly informed by people behind me. Hot Guy took a picture, but I'm not sharing it with the internet. Anyway, what would you name this butterfly? I keep thinking "Pucci", like that designer that made all those colorful outfits in the '60s. 

Staycation Planning: Madame Tussaud's

As we all know, I've been a little disappointed that we couldn't go away this spring. But the kids will still get a vacation from school (and their activities) in April, which means I do get to plan a staycation. One place we're finally going to visit is Madame Tussauds in Times Square.

Not only do they have over 200 wax figures of celebrities and historical figures, they have tons of interactive exhibits. And there's a 4D Marvel Superheroes theater, where we will be spending A LOT of time. I think Ironflower will be into the Music Experience, where she can pretend she's Katy Perry. Lovebug will probably like the Sports Zone, where somehow you can box with Evander Holyfield. I'm assuming he goes easy on children. Hot Guy will be all about the Gallery, where he can sign the Declaration of Independence with Ben Franklin. I'm curious about the working Newsroom, myself. And Lovebug will get to see all of his favorite superheroes.

I love going new places with my family. And Hot Guy and I will have so much fun explaining all of the famous people that the kids don't recognize. I have a feeling it's going to take us a long time to get through the Gallery, that's for sure.

Click here if you'd like 15% off your visit to Madame Tussauds!



I'm receiving tickets to Madame Tussaud's as compensation for this post. This has not influenced my opinion, just made it easier for our family to go to Madame Tussauds. 

Our Camping Adventure (Sort Of)

It's not that I don't enjoy the outdoors, it's that I don't enjoy going to the bathroom in the outdoors. That's my excuse for avoiding camping for the first 41 years of my life.

Well, there was also that time at Girl Scout Camp, where we stayed in a cabin, but it was wet and drippy and clique-y and scary. Plus, years of 1980's horror movie viewings assured me that the serial killer would go after me first in a camping situation. And there always seemed to be a camping situation in those movies.

But mostly, it was the bathroom issue.

Hot Guy assured me that we would stay in place with a bathroom building. But if I have to walk more than 10 feet? And share it with other people? Almost as bad as no bathroom at all. But Ironflower REALLY wanted to go camping.

And then Lovebug REALLY wanted to go camping.

And Hot Guy has been wanting to go camping for years, because he used to be really into camping.

Then our friend Scott  gave us a whole bunch of lovely camping gear.

So we went to a campground in Harriman State Park. Which, according to the website, is half an hour from our house.*

Things started off auspiciously.

 Our campsite. Pretty, huh?

View from my camp chair. Hot Guy and kids doing campy set up stuff. 

I only had to help a little bit with set up. Which was good, because one of my other prejudices against camping was that, well, it seems like a lot of work. But Hot Guy enjoys that work, so it all worked out. He and the kids even got a great fire going.

Then the thunderstorm came. Now, we knew there were supposed to be some random thunderstorms and Hot Guy had already put the rain thingy over the tent. So we sent the kids into the tent, finished cooking our hot dogs and hamburgers, and ate inside the tent. 

That part wasn't so bad. The kids were so happy that we weren't forcing vegetables on them that they were pretty cheerful. Especially since the rain thing worked so well. Also, we let them play with electronic devices after dinner. That's always popular. 

Finally the rain stopped and the big kids came out to make s'mores. HugMonkey refused to leave the tent as soon as the storm started, but he did consent to standing in the opening to eat a s'mores. Lovebug decided he didn't like the dark, or the wet, or something, and also returned to the tent. Ironflower, for all her desire for camping, did not want to go to the bathroom building. So I showed her how girls can pee outside, but that necessitated a clothing change which turned into a decision to stay in the tent. 

When it started raining again, Hot Guy and I also gave up. After trying to let the kids tell ghost stories which all seemed to revolve around poop, we all went to sleep. I figured the rain would stop soon, as we weren't supposed to get torrents of rain or anything. Naturally I was totally wrong. I woke up a few hours later because there was water dripping on my face. 

I slid closer to Hot Guy and watched as Ironflower also woke up. She seemed to be okay, just awake. Then Lovebug burst into tears. He was soaking wet. Our rain thingy had failed and the tent was leaking. It was pouring rain, so we knew it would only get worse. So we put on our wet shoes (they had been piled near a leaky spot) and ran for the car. 

We got home at 3:30 in the morning. We were back at the site by 11am, cleaning up our sodden tent. Hot Guy and I were too exhausted to contemplate doing the activities we'd planned for Saturday and the kids were too tired to protest. 

But we're going to try again. We'll be a bit more prepared next time. And we'll put a tarp over the rain thingy, just in case. 

And then I get a vacation in hotel. 

*The website lied, BTW. It also gave us bad directions (which I had actually copied accurately). Fortunately a nice man took pity on us and gave us good directions. The campground is an hour from our house. The ladies in the camping office were impressed that it only took us a few tries to get there. 

Swimming and Other Natural Disasters

On Saturday, I tried to take my kids swimming. It sounds so simple. But, much like keeping a clean house or resisting bagels, things that are simple for other people are kind of challenging for me.

My first challenge was getting Hot Guy up and going. Unless Hot Guy has a pressing reason to be up early, he is a night owl. But we had to go early, because Hot Guy had a pressing reason to be somewhere in the afternoon (this should have been my first clue to delay the whole enterprise, but it was such a perfect pool day). So there might have been some snapping and grumbling.

Then I had to assemble the troops and get bathing suits, sunblock and water shoes on them. Then I had to pack the car with noodles, snacks, towels, sand toys, beach chairs and the new kick board. There might have been some reminders that whiny children don't get to go swimming.

Then we had to drive to our local pool. Now, we are not members of our local pool, which is really a very large pond. It's not cheap and I don't know anyone who goes there, making it unappealing for times when I might consider taking all 3 kids myself (which - spoiler alert! - is never going to happen now.) But as residents, we have been able to buy day passes in the past.

Not, apparently, anymore.

We could not swim in our town's pond without paying a full family membership. So I called my parents, who are members of their town's pool, by virtue of being senior citizens (but for us to join that pool would be even more expensive, FYI). My Dad agreed to meet us at his town pool so that we could be his guests, because after all that build up and preparation we couldn't possible tell the kids that we would be skipping the pool altogether.

By the time we got settled at my parents' town pool, the whole thing had taken almost 2 hours.

We could have driven to the shore and gone to a real beach (that doesn't demand several hundred dollar membership) for that amount of time.

I am reasonably sure that Lovebug and Ironflower had fun once we got there, but I can't be positive because sandbox loving/ wading pool adoring ChunkyMonkey hated the whole experience.

And as soon as Hot Guy went to get himself some food, ChunkyMonkey decided to let me know how much he hated the experience. He was mad that I didn't have snack packs. He was mad that he couldn't eat the crackers he'd thrown in the sand. He was mad that I wouldn't let him head butt me. He was mad that I wouldn't let him hold the open bottle of apple juice. It was like all the tension of the morning exploded out of him in the world's longest, loudest tantrum. Eventually Hot Guy took him to the car while I watched the older kids from the beach chair where I'd collapsed.

Not exactly the fun family day I'd had in mind.