I am NOT a Happy Camper

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September 29, 2017

I’ve been known to worship at the altar of climate control. It’s not something I’m proud of, but it’s true. I don’t like to be uncomfortable. I am Claudia, From the Mixed-up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, who doesn’t like picnics because the sun melts the icing on the cupcakes. When it comes to first world problems, I’m the queen. Thankfully, there is grace enough even for a temperature worshiping mama like myself. Sometimes it takes witnessing a tragedy like the devastation caused by recent hurricanes Harvey and Irma to remind us how much we actually have…and sometimes it just takes a camping trip. I use the term camping loosely here to describe how my family spent Labor Day weekend. My husband’s stepsister (stepsister-in-law?) married her long time boyfriend in the Berkshires. The ceremony was beautiful; the reception was worthy of Pinterest. But there was one major things that separated this wedding from the thousands of Dream Wedding boards flooding the internet: it took place at a summer camp, and we were the campers. That’s right; all of the attendees, bride and groom included, spent two nights roughing it summer camp style. Bunk beds and mosquito bites are not really my thing, but this wedding wasn’t about me and I’ve seen The Parent Trap before. This will be fine. When I found out the campground was only 30 minutes away from a sourdough bakery I had been dying to try I even started to look forward to it!

By the time we packed our Mazda 5 with clothes, bedding, towels, formal wear, a small TV & Blu-ray player (I’m not kidding, I told you we’re not outdoorsy!), our children, and a partridge in a pear tree, my optimism was waning. Thankfully, our first stop, Berkshire Mountain Bakery, did not disappoint. I savored every morsels of their chocolate chunk sourdough ciabatta – the sweet tangy, decadent calm before the storm -or before the frost, as fate would have it.

not happy camper Providence Moms Blog — Berkshire Mountain Bakery: Worth the day trip Rhode Islanders!

So there we are on a lake, in the mountains, the smell of pine all around us, and everyone is having fun the night before the wedding, drinking beers and making s’mores. Only we’re not doing any of that because we have three very young children with 7 o’clock bed times. Being in a one room cabin, our whole family just turned in early, and then our whole family just woke up at 2 AM when the temperature dropped to 40 degrees in our unheated cabin. I’d like to remind you that we are city people. We have ‘recreational sleeping bags’ and ‘all season’ cotton blankets. Let’s just say we were ‘uncomfortable’ because 40 degrees is the temperature it should be inside of your refrigerator right now. Very little sleeping actually too place after that. The following night got all of the way up to 50 (which is actually still a lot colder than it sounds like), and by the time Sunday rolled around, I was ready to get back home to our, sweet, sweet insulation…

I learned two things that weekend. 1) I have no business camping, under any circumstances or to any degree, for any reason, whatsoever, ever again. And 2) My first world problems are so, so small. While I sit here and complain about my all expenses paid trip to the Berkshires there are millions of Americans without electricity, or who have completely lost their homes, because of that Son-of-a-Butcher Harvey and his witch of a sister Irma. Texas and Florida need our support a whole lot more than I needed heat in our cabin. Will that stop me from turning up our heat the second we get a fall day that drops below 65? Nope! But it does remind me to be a little more thankful for the crazy-wonderful life I live, even when it gets a little bit uncomfortable.
“You can complain about anything, “one of my best friends told me. “You’re a Grumpy Cat.” She’s not the first to notice. I’ve also been called Grumplestiltskins by multiple people, and other less flattering names in the same vein. Even my kids are starting to pick up on it.
“Mommy,” they ask, “are you grumpy?” And after one miserable night in the wild, I want to start answering ‘no’ to that question a whole lot more. I don’t actually have much to be grumpy about. I’m always so much better than I deserve. I have an amazing husband, three beautiful kids, decadent chocolate sourdough bread, and a house with an A/C in every window. So starting now I’m going to try to hold onto gratitude, instead of giving in to grumpiness. But please don’t make me prove it by going camping again, because I am not a happy camper.

About to Add Baby Number Two to the Mix? Why it Might Not Be as Tough as You Fear

By

Laura Tancrelle

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September 27, 2017

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I was both thrilled and terrified when I found out my second baby was on the way. Becoming a mom had been the biggest transition of my life. One day I was just hanging around, taking long showers and lots of naps. The next I couldn’t even find two minutes to brush my teeth. This tiny human took up so much of my time, brain, and heart that it just didn’t seem possible. How was I going to care for another one of those tiny humans and my now toddler at the same time?

Flash forward ten months or so and things were going much smoother than I had anticipated. Although adding another kiddo to the mix had been far from seemless, it was certainly not the insanity that I had feared. Of course there’s the fact that this newborn thing was not entirely foreign to me, but there were also a few things in my life that were different the second time around.

I’d already trimmed the fat

And by this, I do not mean those last few pesky pregnancy pounds (they’re still hanging around, unfortunately). I mean that I’ve cut out all the extras that I can do without. I used to wash and dry my hair daily. Now it’s every three days, and braids and cute headbands are my best pals. Daily eyeliner? Gone. Weekly grocery shopping at different locations? Hello Peapod, and, while we’re at it, hello precut veggies and fruit. This stretch of your life is challenging and tiring. If there’s any time to cut yourself some slack, it’s now.

The key is not cutting EVERYTHING out, but picking what’s not important to you personally. I flat out refuse to give up getting my hair cut and colored and date nights with my husband. But that other stuff? Buh-bye. If you’re waiting for baby number one now, I highly recommend figuring out what you can live without and preparing to chuck it out the window.

I know my body

One of my most vivid memories of my older son’s first days is sitting in my kitchen at 4 am, eating everything and anything I could get my hands on, as my husband and son snoozed peacefully upstairs. My milk had just come in and I have never been so ravenous in my entire life. Other moms have told me that their body will cut down on milk production if they don’t get adequate nourishment. Mine did not get the memo on that. If I don’t eat and drink enough, my breasts are still chock full of milk, but I can get dehydrated and starving to the point of nausea. Super fun when you’re recovering from childbirth!

Needless to say, this time around I started packing it in during every meal they fed me at the hospital. I brought my own water bottle which I constantly had my husband refill. I told anyone who asked how they could help after baby came home to please bring food. Actually, I didn’t even wait for my mother-in-law to ask; I just begged her to bring me her signature pasta salad. I guess I figured I was giving her a grandchild, so why not? Knowing how my body was going to react to breastmilk production allowed me to head off the tough part at the pass. Same thing with the major crying spells for no reason exactly 48 hours after delivery. When you’re pregnant no one mentions these and other fun parts of postpartum life. The whole experience was much chiller when I was prepared for how my body was going to act.

Mom friends

Nothing eases a transition like talking to someone who’s been there before. By the time my second son arrived, I had met a whole collection of mom friends through story hours, moms’ groups, and other activities. One friend sent me hand me downs from her son who had also been born in winter. One told me about contraction timing apps. Another I texted when I was not quite sure if I was in labor yet and wanted a second opinion. One sent me a sweet text in the hospital about remembering to care for myself while I had a newborn. Yet another invited me for a play date at her house as my first solo outing with my boys. And pretty much everyone commiserated with me about middle of the night feedings. I felt like I could get through this because of the community that surrounded me.

So if you’re expecting number baby number two and terrified, remember that you got this mama. It’s not your first experience in the newborn trenches and you’re better prepared this time. With a little bit of luck, it can be less stressful and more joyful this time around.

Keeping Little Hands Busy: An Easy Guide to Toddler Busy Bags

By

Jessica Johnson

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September 26, 2017

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We are gearing up for another school year here in our homeschool. This year I will be officially teaching third, first/second, and preschool. Unofficially, we still have a sweet little toddler to try to contain during our time of learning. As I was lesson planning and preparing for this school year, I mulled over this problem. How do I keep little hands busy, and a growing mind stimulated enough while teaching her older brothers? How do I do this in a way that communicates to her that she is an important part of family learning time, while entertaining her enough to not need constant one on one attention from me?

Of course! Busy bags!

I’ve seen these all over Pinterest and my favorite creative mommy-blogs. Busy bags are perfect for road trips, restaurants, or quiet time. They are filled with little (often inexpensive) activities to keep kids quietly engaged. The key is to only bring them out during a specified time so that the goodies inside remain new and intriguing. Here are some tips to get started:

Decide how many bags you want to utilize. For our needs, I decided on five: one for each weekday. If this is for a longer road trip, you may just want to assemble two, or have just one for restaurant waiting time.
Decide on your themes. Since Samantha will be doing her bags while I teach her siblings, I wanted an educational theme to her boxes. I decided on letters & numbers, shapes, colors, in & out (putting objects inside of a homemade piggy bank of sorts), and pretend play. Some other theme ideas include art, textures, things with buttons or clasps; really anything you can think of.
Shop the Dollar Store and Target’s Dollar Spot. Seriously, this does NOT have to be expensive. I spent less than $30. You can probably assemble these with a lot of household items too, but I really wanted an excuse to go to Target.
Think outside of the box. Get creative with your boxes. I bought a giant game of checkers just to use the tokens for our in & out container. I also found rainbow colored hair ties and pill containers for our color themed box. Giant cookie cutters lent themselves nicely to our shapes box. Look around the entire store, not just the craft or game section. You’ll be thrilled with what you find.

Now it is time to assemble and store your boxes or bags. Like I mentioned before, I think the magic of these is in saving them for a special time. Here is what our busy boxes look like:

And now, the moment of truth. If you have a toddler you understand that just because YOU think that something is a great idea, doesn’t mean you child will. Please don’t make me relive the nightmare that was the sensory bin of 2011. Beans and rice everywhere.

Anyway, I am happy to report that the busy bags (or boxes in our case) have been a delightful success. So much so that my preschooler joins right in to “teach” her while I am busy teaching math and reading to my two older boys. Excited to add this one to the “#momwin” column! Hopefully it is a win for you too!

Camping: Then and Now

By

Carol-Ane Woodard

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September 25, 2017

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Camping: Then and Now

We all sat around the campfire checking our phones. (Well, now, not then.)

Then, which was about 50 years ago, my maiden aunt took me and my younger brother, ages 8 and 6, on our very first camping trip. He had a slight fever, just about 100.

“Don’t cancel!” My mother exclaimed. “Just put him on a blanket in the back of the car; let him sleep it off; and he’ll be fine.”

I think it was my aunt’s first camping trip too. She was a mathematician, a world traveler, and a career woman. Nothing fazed her. At least not a child with a fever. After all, my mother said he would be fine, and my mother was always right about that kind of thing. But the tent, or perhaps the cooking, did prove to be a challenge. My brother was fine, but my aunt wasn’t. At least not until someone from the next campsite took pity on a confused lone woman with two children in tow. Miraculously the tent went up, and then, they made us the best hot chocolate I have ever had. Then, or now.

The next camping trip I remember was a trip to Mount Monadnock. This involved my mother, the mathematician aunt, my other aunt, my three brothers, my two cousins, and my grandmother. The husbands had all apparently demurred. But my mother was prepared for anything. After all, she had the foresight to bring a foursome for bridge.

When they arrived at the campsite, they promptly lost the youngest child. And there were rumors of thunder storms. We all desperately wanted to go up the mountain, and they could hardly disappoint us. So they put me, age 12, in charge of the 10 year old and two 8 year olds. And we set on up.

I remember it pretty well. At some point, in my 12-year-old wisdom, I decided that we should just leave the trail and strike out straight for the summit, so we would get there before it started raining. But we were quite a ways from the top when we heard thunder.

The two eight year olds whimpered, and begged me to head down.

“The lightning will get us,” they cried. “We’ve got to stay out of the open.”

But we had already lost the trail.

“The only way down is up.” I proclaimed. “We have to go to the top of the mountain to find the trail.”

(My cousin, one of the two 8-year-olds, is still a bit bitter about my part in that adventure.)

We felt pretty triumphant, if a bit wet, when we finally made it back to the campsite. Or at least I did.

But once there, we discovered that our mothers and aunts had problems of their own. During their search for the missing child, the rain caved most of the tents, and everything was soaking wet. There wasn’t a single surface dry enough for a bridge game.

“Well. It’s a good thing the guys aren’t here,” my mother declared. “Right now, they would probably want to do something stupid, like pack up and head home.”

Some of us slept in the station wagon that night. But the next day the sun came out, the tents dried and the bridge game commenced. We may have even gone up the mountain again.

With that heritage, I obviously had to take my own kids camping.

Camping in the 1980’s was not quite like camping in the 1950’s. Or I wasn’t. I was a nervous mother, terrified that my children would wander from the campsite in the dark and be eaten by wolves. I certainly did not send them up a mountain alone with a thunder storm pending. And I brought my husband because he knew how to put up tents and cook and stuff. But what I clearly remember was sitting around the fire, sipping adult beverages, and discovering that my children knew every single line of every single song of the Teddy Bears’ Picnic and Peter Pan. They entertained us with dance numbers for several hours.

Now I was always sure, in a general, unproven sense, that my kids were terrifically talented. But, that night, I was rather surprised to learn that it was actually true. We camped a lot, and I always dreamed that, one day, I would go camping with both my children and my grandchildren.

And this summer, I did. My life turned full circle. I was now the grandmother on the camping trip.

I was not as game as my aunt, or my mother, or even my grandmother, (who was always the most unflustered of all.) I wasn’t even as game as my own younger self. This summer my husband and I rented a cabin with electricity, and let the parents and kids do the tent stuff. But, we sat around the campfire, sipped adult beverages, and helped the grandchildren cook s’mores. And, of course, it being the 2010’s, we all periodically checked our cell-phones. After all, Twitter and Facebook wait for no man, or woman…

I guess at this point, I should comment on how much better it was in the old days. Or, alternatively, how much better it is now.

But.

Really. Camping is camping. Even in the 2010’s.

The cell phones don’t ruin it for me. After all, children still sit in laps. Adults still talk. S’mores still fall tragically into the fire. Or, less tragically, get smeared though-out a toddler’s fingers, face, and hair. Babies pick up bugs. Little boys are allowed, under careful supervision, to poke at the fire with a stick. Children impress their parents.

This trip the group decided to keep me occupied and out of trouble by insisting that I “teach” the boys how to cook biscuits on a stick. In their wisdom, the boys then decided that their job was to put the biscuit on the stick and supervise me while I cooked it. Actually cooking it in the fire stuck them as either too dangerous, or, too hot, or too tedious. But they kept careful watch on me, and told me precisely when to turn it and when to take it out.

“OK. It’s done now.” they nodded seriously. “Good job, grandma!”

And then, they washed those biscuits down with the best hot chocolate that they will ever remember drinking.

‘We should do this all summer long…’ I thought dreamily… ‘This is how all people should all live…just sitting around a fire…it’s who we’ve been for like…the last two hundred thousand years…Yeah…this…just this…’

But that is not the whole truth about camping.

The whole truth is that, for me, the very best part about camping is – the day that I get back home.

‘Yeah. Two days camping is enough…’ I’ll nod sagely, running around my big, empty, bug-free, house, thinking…’Hello, refrigerator! Hello microwave! Hello washing-machine! Hello hot shower!’

And, to the best of my recollection, my aunts, and my mother, and my grandmother, back then, some 50 years ago, felt exactly the same way.

A Mother’s Hopes for a New School Year

By

Ashley Lint

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September 22, 2017

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“What if I fall? Oh, but my darling, what if you fly? – E.Hanson

A few weeks ago, my oldest daughter went back to school. This year she started 3rd grade. There was less hype around the first day, the outfit was simpler, the lunchbox was the same as last year; but this year was a whole new start. While this may not seem like a big deal to some, in my eyes this will be one of the most formative years of her school career.

This is the year where there is no ‘just getting by.’ There are MCAS, new subjects and lots of accountability, and milestones that I’m not sure my girl will handle well. Don’t get me wrong, I have full faith in her ability to achieve; this is after all, the child who taught herself how to cook at 4 years old. While I know she is smart and I know that she can do it, I sometimes find myself wavering in my surety that it will get done. Without excessive tears and foot stomping, on both our parts, that is. When it comes to school and traditional forms of education, her drive is not her strongest suit. I now find myself trying to figure out how to encourage her and inspire a love of learning without breaking her spirit, a trait I adore ever so much in my girl.

She gets the extra push at school and does well when guided; but when left to her own devices, she does the bare minimum required, and soon that won’t be enough to not fall behind. School has just begun, but already I find myself worrying about how this year will pan out. Will a love of learning eventually kick in, will she always require that extra push, or will she fall somewhere in the middle? Our school is spectacular and her teacher is wonderful, but that doesn’t make me any less anxious.

As a mother it’s hard to watch your child struggle, but I know in the long run it will only benefit her to work hard for something. I remind myself that the feeling she will have when she gets over that hurdle will far outweigh the tantrum that preceded it. I’ve come to the conclusion that, for now, all I can do is be her biggest cheerleader. The more I push, the more she will push back; I’ve learned that the hard way with her (she is her mother’s daughter in that respect).

Tomorrow I will walk her to the bus stop, send my girl on her way, and hope that maybe that will be the day when the education bug gets her. It may not be tomorrow, it may not even be this school year, but her day will come. Until then, I will sit with her day after day, commiserate with her over a simple homework sheet or a list of vocabulary words and remind her that she is capable of changing the world. But she needs to pass 3rd grade first.

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Reflecting on the First Year

By

Amelia Sugerman

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September 21, 2017

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Reflecting First Year Providence Moms Blog — Photo credit: JCPenney

As we embark on our son’s first birthday, I’m realizing the importance of reflecting on a year of transition, change, growth, survival, and loss.

The first year has been a giant roller coaster of excitement, suspense, thrill, and a whole lot of tears (someone, please tell me that I’m not the only one crying over here) that are mostly irrational. Being a mom is a rush of emotions that I wasn’t prepared for.

I remember the first time I really didn’t think I would “make it” as a mom. He had woken up for the fourth time that night and I walked into his room and just stood there in a daze. I considered walking back into my room and getting under the covers and just turning it all off. I didn’t think I could do it anymore. I was sick of pumping, washing parts, and making bottles.

I was grieving my old life and transitioning to this confusing new life at exactly the same time. I wanted to give up. A mother’s instinct (something I didn’t even realize I had) propelled me to keep going each day until it became a little bit easier. There were nights when putting him to sleep just couldn’t come soon enough and other times when I just wanted to hear that giggle a little longer, read one more story, give him one more kiss.

Everyone talks about having a baby as being the hardest and best thing you’ll ever do. The problem is that no one tells you that it’s okay to mourn the loss of your old life while celebrating this amazing blessing. No one tells you that it’s okay to break out the wine after a rough day or to call your friends and just sob. No one tells you that breastfeeding isn’t the be all end all. No one tells you to trust your instincts and to pat yourself on the back for a job well done. No one tells you that it’s all normal and that everything really is okay.

It’s not easy to flip a switch and completely change your life, but that’s exactly what you do when you have a baby. All of a sudden our little family of two became three and we’re still adjusting. Our weekends of sleeping in and dining al fresco are over for a bit. We’ve traded trips to Austin and New York City for Storyland and Edaville, and it’s actually been a blast. A year ago, I didn’t know what to expect, but this is far better than I could have even imagined. We’re making new memories as a family and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

The Fears and Hopes of Raising a Deep-Feeling Child

By

Robin Barton

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September 20, 2017

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From the moment he arrived, my younger son made it clear he was his own person. We discovered his dimples within hours of birth, when he did that subconscious newborn smiling thing. When he started smiling with purpose, they were big, toothless smiles. His giggles were infectious, and became more boisterous as he grew.

And when sad, he would put on the biggest pout he had. At 3 years old, he still rocks that pouty bottom lip when he’s sad. Combine that with his baby blues, and I melt.

As he grew, it was apparent he’s incredibly caring and concerned for others. His teachers say he’s perceptive and the first to approach a distressed classmate to comfort them. If his brother is upset, he’s typically by his side supporting him with a hug (even if he is the reason for his brother’s current state of unhappiness). If I am sad, he will rub my shoulder and say: “Everything will be okay, Mom.”

We were recently traveling together when I missed my highway exit. Unsure how to reach our destination, I took the following exit to turn on my GPS. “What’s wrong, Mom? Are you okay?” I heard from the back seat. I hadn’t uttered a word about being slightly lost. At 3 years old, I was impressed he could read an emotion on my face that I had not expressed verbally.

“He’s so smart,” I’m told by others. “And not just in a ‘he-knows-his-ABC’s’ kind of way.”

The flip side of his empathy and emotional intelligence is that he feels his emotions so deeply. You know the sad parts of Disney movies? He’s the kind of kid whose eyes well up and needs cuddles during them (Frozen was especially tough).

His strong emotions make some days harder than others. The simple task of sharing a toy can produce tears. A request to stop playing because it’s bedtime is met with sadness and a healthy dose of stubbornness. At school, transitions from one activity to another can prove challenging. Is this normal 3 year old behavior? Yes, to an extent. But a 20 minute meltdown because his brother wanted to borrow a yellow crayon can be trying, not to mention a bit heartbreaking.

I don’t want to paint my son as wholly uncooperative. It’s just that it’s often hard for us not to meet his frustration with our own. Sometimes that means we have to provide him a generous amount of heart-to-heart talks to help him process his emotions. We try, however, to work with him, not against him. I never want to quell his right to his feelings. They are a part of what makes him caring, loving, and perceptive.

Which takes me right to one of my concerns for him as he grows. It’s no secret that our society says it’s okay for a woman show emotion, but not a man. Will he try to dull himself one day to please others or to fit into some perceived societal mold?

Turn on the news, or, read through comments on some Facebook posts and it’s obvious many in this world lack compassion. At just 3 years old, my son has embraced a level of emotion and empathy beyond his years. I hope this quality of his doesn’t crumble in an effort to fit the “norm.” He is not perfect; no child is. But if he can be this good of a human at 3, he has the potential to be a a great grown up.

So for now, we’ll deal with the days that are harder than others. We will recognize his emotions; we won’t stifle them. We’ll try our best to help him harness the greatness inside of him to better himself and the world around him. And we’ll always encourage him to be true to himself.

The 5 Stages of IKEA Acceptance

By

Jessica Johnson

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September 19, 2017

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I look around my chaotic house and there are (too many) things that don’t have a place. It’s suffocating me. I am certainly not the most organized person, but there is no denying that my mood is affected by the clutter and disorganization surrounding me. I feel defeated and frustrated as I utter the six words my husband hates most:

“We need to go to IKEA.”

I know it will take him some time to work through the emotions that those six words bring. Hopefully we will get to the actual store in the next month. My husband, like so many other people in the world, has to work through the stages of IKEA acceptance.

In my experience, the IKEA acceptance looks a lot like Kubler-Ross’s stages of grief. Maybe because a part of your soul dies a little every time you walk the pristine showroom or tour a perfectly organized 200 square-foot apartment. Whatever the reason, my husband goes through the same five stages in order, like clockwork.

Stage 1: Denial – Whoa whoa whoa — let’s not get drastic here. I know we need a little help with organization but we DEFINITELY don’t need to go to IKEA. Look, we have book shelves; we just need fewer books. We have a toy box — just need fewer toys. Let’s purge everything first to make sure we are holding onto necessities only.

Stage 2: Anger – Alright, we just spent three days purging our house. We are now certified purging machines. WHY DO WE HAVE ALL OF THIS STUFF? I’m cancelling our Amazon Prime. Oh, actually we do need those snow shoes. And those extra blankets are good to have in case everyone gets the stomach flu again like last year… these books will all be read again and again. UGH!!! Okay, so purging didn’t completely solve the problem like I hoped it would have.

Stage 3: Bargaining – We really don’t have to drive all the way up to IKEA though, do we? I’m sure Walmart has something comparable. Let’s try Savers. Oh, maybe we can type “IKEA” into Craigslist and hope we get lucky. Listen, I will take you out to dinner anywhere you want if we don’t have to go to IKEA.

Stage 4: Depression – I’m just going to lay in bed all day and hope my spouse forgets all about our need to go to IKEA. Where are the Cheetos?

Stage 5: Acceptance- Alright, they do have the most reasonable prices, so let’s get this over with. But let me tell you, this is the LAST TIME we are going, and I’m going to be grumpy the entire time we are there.

There it is, folks. I haven’t even touched the stages of following the ever-so-helpful instructions that are included in your purchase, but that’s for another time.

Why We’ll Be Back to Hasbro’s HasCon Next Year

By

Rhode Island Moms

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September 17, 2017

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Providence Moms Blog was provided tickets at no cost to experience HasCon. And we're really glad we were, because it was awesome.

If you’re anything like me, you spent the whole summer seeing signs for HasCon and wondering what the heck it was all about. Having never been to a convention myself, they conjured images of costumed adults waiting for hours in line to get Buffy the Vampire Slayer’s autograph. And while there were certainly adults waiting in line to get Stan Lee’s autograph, HasCon was so much more than I expected. I shouldn’t have been surprised of course–it’s Hasbro. They are THE toy brand, so it stands to reason that they understand children and would put together a fantastic event. But still. I was more impressed than I expected to be.

The convention floor was a sort of magical children’s paradise. If you can imagine what it would be like if you mixed together a children’s museum and a toy store, you can begin to imagine HasCon. As far as the eye could see were activity stations centered around all of my children’s favorite brands: My Little Pony, Transformers, Littlest Pet Shop, Play Doh, Baby Alive, Trolls, Nerf — each with an activity that the kids could do. All set to the background of giant Trolls, a several story high Optimus Prime, and a life-size Bumblebee walking and leaving my children slack-jawed and awestruck.

As a mom, I particularly liked that once we were in we did not have to pay for every single extra thing. Don’t get me wrong; there were some ticket upgrade options that were enticing (I got a behind the scenes peek at the My Little Pony sit down dinner event and the 10 year old in me wanted to go SO. BAD.), but the events included in general admission ticket were great. So often, I go to an event advertised as “family friendly” and find myself being charged for every bell and whistle. At the end of the day, my children are exhausted and frustrated at being told “no” all day and I’m frustrated with all the whining. HasCon, to the contrary, really was family friendly. My kids did leave exhausted, but in the way that leads to passed out children and a successful car-to-house transfer. And since that’s basically the life goal of every parent I know, I’m going to go ahead and call HasCon a win.

Photos courtesy of Ashley Antonellis.

The Air Force One Experience on Display in Rhode Island for a Limited Time

By

Tracy Slater

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September 15, 2017

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Ever wanted to hop aboard Air Force One and see what all the fuss is about? Well, for the next seven weeks you can do just that with The Air Force One Experience, an educational exhibit temporarily on display at Quonset State Airport in North Kingstown, RI.

The Air Force One Experience is the brainchild of the Children’s Democracy Project , which is a group aimed at teaching children about democracy. As of today, September 15th, Phase 1 of the project has been completed and 3,000 free tickets are being released to Rhode Island residents on a first come, first serve basis. An additional 6,000 complimentary tickets have been released to residents of Massachusetts and Connecticut, respectively. Through the end of October, this limited preview will be open from 10am to 6pm daily.

I took my kids down today to check it out, and it was pretty spectacular. Up close, the Boeing 747 is massive, and the inside is really tremendous. It was like we were in the set of a movie, and it felt both very familiar and unlike anything I’d ever seen. My kids are young and were as impressed with the helicopter they saw taking off as anything else, but for an older child with a bit more understanding of the history behind what they were seeing, it would be pretty cool. Meant to be an intimate sensory experience to excite children about presidential leadership, the Children’s Democracy Project worked with Air Force One Stewards from the Nixon, Ford, Carter, Reagan, H.W. Bush, Clinton, and W. Bush administrations to ensure that no detail has been missed to make this truly a one of a kind experience. On board, the Air Force One replica has a variety of presidential artifacts from past presidents like John F. Kennedy, Harry S. Truman, Abraham Lincoln, and George Washington.

Tickets are required to access the exhibit and can be booked by time slot and must be reserved in advance by visiting www.airforceoneexperience.com. This is the only time the Air Force One Experience will be in New England before it embarks on a national tour, so don’t miss your chance to see an interactive piece of history with your family!

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