Harry Potter in Chicago — CMB Post

This was originally posted on the now defunct Chicago Moms Blog.

After my mini-bash of Chicago events in my last Chicago Moms Blog Post, I'm happy to do a little Windy City ass kissing boostering for the Harry Potter exhibit at the Museum of Science and Industry. We recently reupped our membership for the sole purpose of seeing it. I wasn't that excited, even though the Stars Wars exhibit a few years ago was a lot of fun, but my kids could could hardly wait for the Hogwarts Express to come rumbling into town.

Moms everywhere should be Harry Potter fans. First, the books got kids reading. Then the movies came along to keep them entertained. Now, there's an exhibit to lure them to the museum — a place where actual learning may occur. So, some of the marketing and product pimping has gone a little overboard — OK, a lot overboard. What mom among us wouldn't love to use a few of the spells found in the pages of Harry Potter?

How about Accio binky — when the baby is screaming and you don't have a free hand to pick up the pacifier; or Episky leg, to heal that skinned knee after a bike-riding mishap; or maybe Geminio, the duplication charm, for those times when two kids want to play with the same toy at the same time.

I admit it — I have loved the films almost as much as the books, and not just because they are fun to watch. Three of the first four Harry Potter movies were released in November, within days of my boy/girl twins' birthday, and they helped avoid a great deal of birthday party angst. Thank you, Warner Bros.

I think the casting directors and set/costume designers did an amazing job of recreating Rowling's world. Could anyone else except Rupert Grint have played Ron? (BTW, the actor is apparently recovering nicely from his bout of H1N1 flu). Every detail seems to have been carefully observed, and many of those same detailed props and costumes comprise the museum exhibit.

If you are a fan of the books or the movies, don't miss the chance to see a life-sized Buckbeak, sit in Hagrid's giant chair and even, if you're as lucky as my son, have the sorting hat confirm whether you are a Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw or Slytherin (he was a Ravenclaw). If you haven't read the books or seen the movies, however, maybe you should skip it and hang out by the model trains. I'm not sure the exhibit would mean much to you.

We also got our tickets for the latest movie, Harry Potter and the Half-blood Prince, which will be shown in the museum's Omnimax theater between the July 15 release date and the conclusion of the museum's HP exhibit on September 27. Fair warning — these movies are really scary. If your children are too young for the books, they are definitely too young for the film. I'm not even sure I want to see He-who-must-not-be-named in the huge IMAX format. Hmmm, maybe I should wait for the DVD.

This is an original Chicago Moms Blog post. When Susan Bearman isn't haunting the halls of the Museum of Science and Industry, she can be found writing at Two Kinds of People and The Animal Store Blog.

I am a Bad Chicagoan — CMB Post

This was originally posted on the now defunct Chicago Moms Blog.

I've lived in Chicago or its immediate surrounds since I graduated from college, more than 20 years ago. Chicago is, by far, the best big city in the world (with no apologies to the Big Apple). We have a vibrant arts community, from richly endowed museums, to wonderful public art to a whole panoply of street artists. The city is clean, welcoming and accessible by public transportation. And, we're nice.

Chicago proffers a steady flow of activities, from pricey season tickets for the Lyric or the Cubs, to the graciously free beaches, parks and gardens of our unsullied, unparalleled lake front. The architecture alone stimulates peace, wonder and lively debate (hate the spaceship on top of Soldier Field; the Sears Tower will always be the Sears Tower; and there's still no consensus, at least in my family, as to whether Trump belongs here). We have celebrations every 10 minutes and the melodrama of Chicago politics provides daily (pardon the pun) entertainment.

Even though we live in Evanston, the first suburb north of Chicago, I consider us a part of the City of Big Shoulders, more like the sleeve than one of the collar counties. I admit I've lost some of my urban edge since drifting north. It takes me a while to pick up the rhythms of both foot and car traffic when I venture downtown, but the muscle memory kicks in pretty quickly. I love taking the Metra — it's fast and efficient, a sophisticated mode of transportation. I love taking the El — it's young and alive, a little gritty, a little sweaty, a little slower, but you get to see the city from the inside out. I love the museums and concerts, the restaurants and street scenes. And though I'm happy with our chosen community, I'm occasionally rueful that I was too practical (or too chicken) to raise my family right in the city.

Here comes the confession:

I find myself a little afraid of the city these days. It started when my twins were in kindergarten and a classmate of theirs was shot in a drive-by while visiting his grandmother on the south side. I had never been afraid of the city before, and I know that shootings happen everywhere, but the story of this little boy (who thankfully survived) really shook me up.

Then, last year, we were sitting on the lawn of the Museum of Science and Industry, waiting for the fabulous laser light show that celebrated the museum's 75th anniversary. It was a festive occasion, with hot dog and ice cream vendors hawking their wares as our family sprawled across a blanket, waiting for the skies to darken. At one point, I heard my husband say to some passing children: "Hey, kids be careful. Watch where you're stepping." It was a gentle admonition, said without rancor. He simply did not want them to step on him or one of us. Suddenly, their dad turned around and kicked my husband with the toe of his boot — hard! — in the arm. Had my husband's arm not been there, the boot would have landed right in his kidney. As it was, he sported a bruise the size of a small pancake for weeks. My youngest son was hysterical and begged to go home, but we stayed and enjoyed the show. The guy, whose dinner had obviously been 80 proof, did apologize at his wife's insistence.

It's these huge public gatherings that truly terrify me. One of Chicago's most venerated traditions is the Taste of Chicago, held annually the week prior to and through the Fourth of July weekend. I'm ashamed to admit it, but I hate The Taste. It's crowded, it's expensive and it's invariably too hot. Years ago, the last time I went, we were standing amid the crowd when there was a sudden surge, like the seiches that are sometimes found in Lake Michigan. People pressed in on me from all sides. I lost my husband's hand. I couldn't move. I could barely breathe. All I could think about was that there are a lot better ways to die than being crushed by a mob. I've never been back.

This year, The Taste ran from June 26 through July 5. On the morning of the 4th, my kids woke up and asked if we could go. I made up several lame excuses: it's too late to go now; the fireworks were yesterday; it looks like it might rain. The truth is, I really didn't want to go, and I really didn't want to have to worry about keeping track of four kids in that crowd. I feel like a wuss, like I'm depriving them of a vital Chicago experience, something that is their birthright. But I won and we didn't go. If that makes me a bad Chicagoan, so be it.

This is an original Chicago Moms Blog post. When Susan isn't avoiding crowds (other than her crowded family), she can be found writing at Two Kinds of People and The Animal Store Blog.