Finn And Jake Go To The Food Court

WARNING: Rant alert. Proceed with caution.

I try to avoid rants because they tend to spiral out of control quickly. But a few weeks ago I got the green light to let loose.  Our writing class homework was to write about the thing we hated the most. And I had the perfect story. It went a little something like this.

Of all the things I hate the most, the mall food court is at the top of my list.  Just saying the words out loud, “food court” makes my stomach turn. The noise, the chaos and the smells launch an assault on my senses of epic proportions.  Despite my best efforts to avoid it, I inevitably end up there. It's a price I'm willing to pay to indulge my regular retail therapy sessions, but a costly one for sure.

One Saturday I spent the morning helping my sons, Charles and Max, get ready for their soccer games to be played later that day. After much searching for cleats and uniforms, and some pleading with the almighty soccer gods for help, we located enough pieces to assemble two dapper soccer stars.  

Max played first. Then we made our way to Hamilton or Wenham or one of those other small, North Shore towns, where Charles would meet his team. It wasn't long before I realized I had no idea where we were, meandering through heavily wooded roads. Focused on finding the playing field, I was suddenly startled when Charles hollered, “Mom I’m gonna miss my game!” Then Max, timing his contribution perfectly, “Mom, I'm hungry. Can I have a juice box and a snack?” Charles fired back, “Max this is serious!” The fighting continued.

Feeling the mood rapidly devolve I resorted to an age-old parenting technique that I hoped would bring some sanity back into the car. That's right, bribery.

"Please guys I'm begging you. If you can both chill for the rest of the ride I'll take you to Newbury Comics after the game." Suddenly it dawned on me. I had spoken too soon. Newbury Comics used to be conveniently located in a strip mall just off route 114. We'd pass it on the way home from school every day. With a Starbucks two doors down it was a win win. But those days were gone. I sank into my seat remembering it's new home, inside the North Shore Mall.

Even worse, the chaos of going from game to game left little time for lunch. I fed the boys snacks along the way but in the back of my mind I started to accept my fate. I was going to have to take them to the food court.

We shook off the loss to Hamilton-Wenham and drove to the mall. As soon as we entered, the boys bolted to Newbury Comics, almost knocking over a lovely woman who was casually strolling along. “Boys!” I screamed to disappearing flashes. “Stop running!” and then a meek, “I’m so sorry.” to the startled woman. She smiled and said, “Not at all.” Clearly, a fellow mother of boys.

30 minutes later we emerged with two Adventure Time DVD sets, each with “complimentary” Finn and Jake hoods. Having donned their alter egos, Finn the Human (Charles) and Jake the Dog (Max) slayed evil doers and saved princesses all the way to the food court.

Finn (Charles) and Jake (Max) take the North Shore Mall by storm!

As we neared the end of the mall, I felt the pulsing heart beat of the beast. We rounded the corner and there it was. A throbbing, menacing creature waiting to chew me up and spit me out, leaving nothing but a pile of quivering, frazzled nerves. I readied myself for battle.

Echoes of metal chairs scraped the tile floor. I commanded Finn and Jake to find a table suitable for two brave knights and one damsel in distress. Heading for McDonalds, I dodged the minefield of strollers filled with screaming children along the way. I grabbed the "un-Happy Meals" and found the boys, their eyes gazing at the ceiling. What are they looking at?

The North Shore Mall has the added horror, I mean pleasure, of big screen TV’s placed high above, broadcasting the latest videos at 10,000 decibels, to combat the screeching chairs and children of course. The effect makes it impossible for the boys to focus on eating their fried cholesterol fingers and E-coli burgers, further prolonging our stay in the belly of the beast.

My stomach growling, I scour the perimeter for an establishment that might offer something sort of healthy. I settle on Au Bon Pain. At least they assemble your sandwich in front of you instead of hiding behind a bank of microwaves and fryolators. God knows what really happens back there.

After 30 minutes I’ve had enough. Senses frayed, I pry Finn and Jake from the latest Robin Thicke video and prepare to take on the final battle before breaking free. Buzzing and humming with kids who seemingly communicate telepathically, Game Stop is a parent's worst nightmare. Fearful of provoking an attack, we huddle in the corner, none of us daring to poke the hive. The swarm systematically collects games and pelts parents with pleas one by one. Ultimately, they wear us down and emerge victorious, prizes in hand. 

Knowing my fate, I pull Finn and Jake aside and lay down the law. “You have 5 minutes. We are NOT buying anything today. Your time starts…. Now.”

Flash forward 20 minutes later to me arguing with Finn about why he is not buying a new Pokemon DS game to replace the one he lost even IF he uses his own allowance money. So much for the rules. My only saving grace is knowing there’s a Starbucks on the way out where I can get my daily fix of salted chocolate covered almonds and a grande non fat chai chaser. It makes everything better.

Spilling out into the parking lot, we pour our weary bodies into the car. Charles and Max plug into their iPods, listening to The Beach Boys and Macklemore respectively. I launch the latest Terry Gross "Fresh Air" podcast, and her silky, soothing voice eases me home.

With our adventure behind us, I thought back on the day. My little knights fought valiantly, with a heavy dose of fun and excitement. And while I'll never be a fan of the mall food court, it was worth every second.  Because I got to spend the day with my boys.  

Paths

This is a story about two South Shore girls who lived in two different towns and attended two separate high schools. They shared one friend.  The two girls became friends and spent the mid 80’s hanging out.

After graduation both girls attended the same college. They lived in separate dorms and had different friends, but maintained their connection throughout the four-year journey. They graduated together in 1990.

After college the girls met from time to time for drinks or movies or chats. Their busy lives took over and sent them in separate directions. The girls lost touch.

10 years passed. In March of 2002, two pregnant women, formerly South Shore girls, recognized each other in a North Shore supermarket.  They had new last names, new lives and new families. They lived in separate towns, 15 minutes apart.

One shared a birthday with the other’s sister. One was a Scorpio, just like the other’s son, their birthdays only one day apart. 

Both have 11-year-old sons.

Both have sons named Charlie.

Both have names that start with the letter “J.”

They have been friends for many years.  And will be for many more.

We are the VACATIONEERS!!!

Winding our way along Beach Road to the Vineyard Haven ferry it hit me.  Our annual summer vacation on Martha's Vineyard was over. We spent the first half of the day powering through the dreaded packing and cleaning that bookmarks the end of every vacation.  But after our last Giordanno's coconut battered shrimp, pasta and pizza hurrah, we loaded our sated, sun kissed bodies into the car and made our way up island, leaving the summer behind.

Those of us who have braved family vacations and lived to tell know it's not always the relaxing, blissful experience we hope for.  Often loaded with long restaurant lines, screams from over-sugared little bodies who've saving their tantrums for the most crowded venues, and thinning patience from hungry, exhausted parents trying desperately to keep it together.  But now that the boys are older we seem to be able to tackle these vacation assaults head on.  For the first time, we were stronger as a team than as individuals and were able to weave in some of those relaxing, recharging moments that all families crave. We were a team of vacation super heroes, each using our unique super powers to achieve the ultimate goal of vacation nirvana. 

And so, without further ado, I proudly present to you the Vacationeers. 

The Crusher (aka Max)
This self proclaimed "crusher of anything" gains strength from a secret recipe known to only a select few.  To ensure the safety of humankind all ingredients cannot be revealed.  Let’s just say that a daily dose of chocolate soy milk, a dollop of Rabbids Invasion, a sprinkle of Gravity Falls and a dash of Minecraft make up a small portion of this powerful potion.  The Crusher is a fierce competitor, almost bringing down the house Monopoly champ, Sir Daddy-o, in a grueling 2-hour battle.  He also holds the title for most seagulls chased 

Aqua Boy (aka Charles)

Able to withstand a Long Point 2-wave hold down, come up laughing and head back into the breakers for more.  He communes with animals of land and sea.  From body surfing with seals to befriending any dog that crosses his path and even communicating daily with his pet Guinea Pig via FaceTime (thanks to Grandma).  In addition to his love of animals, he’s also a born entertainer.  Always ready to bust-a-move or belt out the latest Imagine Dragons hit on demand.  

Sir Daddy-o (aka Jeff)

This long-time Monopoly champ is also the house storyteller, providing much needed entertainment and laughs for the insatiable Crusher and Aqua Boy.  Topping last year’s series, “The Foot”, Sir Daddy-o introduced the boys to the adventures of his new character "Garry the Gallbladder." His performances are only delivered while swimming, floating or paddling in oceans, bays or ponds.  Sir Daddy-o is THE master of suspense. 

The Anterminator (aka Jen)
There is no bug too small, too buzzy or too jumpy that is a match for this “Lady of the Flies.”  A squirt here, a swat there, a quick swipe and toss.  All executed with swift precision and confidence.  From giant spiders and grasshoppers the size of golf balls to hoards of minute sugar ants swarming the kitchen sink, The Anterminator never gives up.  She gets her power from the collective energy of Crusher snuggles, Aqua Boy hugs and Sir Daddy-o kisses.