The week is not yet over, and already it has been an insightful one. This week, I learned...
...that when you are limited to drawing stick people, drawing a mermaid is a definite challenge.
...that zucchini butter is a real thing. And it is good, nay great. Slathered on toast, studded with fresh mozzarella and cherry tomatoes (if one is so inclined, and hey, 'tis the season...), it is a humble feast yet a delightful one.
...that Target has a hold on me second to none. It's like that Jim Gaffigan bit about cake: (paraphrasing) "Hey, it's Joe Smith's birthday...I don't really know the guy...There's cake in the conference room...Well, I should at least say hello." Target does that to you. "We need dish soap...That means I have to wash dishes...I can get it at Target and then wander aimlessly through the aisles, amassing a small fortune of vital but discounted merchandise in my cart...Well, those dishes do need to be washed." I already knew about my attraction to Target, but it doesn't hurt to admit my affection for the old place every now and again. Keeps me honest in my addictions.
...that the maternity bathing suit I own fit well neither when I was pregnant nor when I am not pregnant.
...that 1 box of strawberry cake mix, 2 lbs. of baking soda, and some pink tinted water when mixed together does indeed make a lovely scented Play dough-ish compound, but it also makes a mess that surpasses understanding. And then we added sprinkles just because.
And to close, it always tickles me purple when the girls use "big" words in conversation. Big A as we are leaving the driveway about an hour before lunch to go to a local water park, when she saw me stash some lunch snacks in the car for them to munch on to both start their lunch and keep them awake on the way home: "Good thing you brought those along. We might get drowsy on the way home." Good thing we're prepared.
Thursday, July 31, 2014
Wednesday, July 23, 2014
The little one
Prologue: Camping Adventure 2014 episode 2 has come and gone, again more successfully than not. This was even a longer trip (2 nights!! Are you gasping in shock yet?), but all survived. Because I'm sure my devoted fan base (???) is wondering based on Camping Adventure 2014 episode 1, the answer is YES. It was again far, far too cold at night. In July. It's not like we haven't made an honest effort at sweltering; Mother Nature hasn't gotten that memo.
I want to take a moment and talk about the little one. The peanut. Our sweet baby cakes.
First of all, she's almost all the way potty trained, and that's pretty great. This turn of events led me to "deconstructing" the changing table...with a rubber mallet. It was hauled away in the garbage truck this morning. Why such brute force? Well. Surely by now I've made this point, but just in case--WE'RE ALMOST DONE WITH DIAPERS FOREVERRRRRR. We're not excited about that. A couple of days ago, she was working on a #2 on her potty seat when she suddenly ducked her head and covered her eyes. When questioned, she responded "I'm hiding...from the poopy." Aren't we all.
The little bean is good for 7-8 word sentences, which is fun. She's also a crazy little mimic, mostly of big sister. This results in all sorts of hilarity. She also just told the boy to "Hey...take your hands off of me!" when he was helping her onto his lap. I wonder where she heard that before.
Sweetness is also good for memorizing her favorite books after a couple of read-throughs. It's always good to let the kid do all of the work at story time. That let's me start my own nap time that much earlier. (Anyone want to hear a variation on Boo Boo or Brown Bear, Brown Bear? She has a whole repertoire.)
The nugget still insists on a very specific set list for "cuddles" before sleep: Silent Night, then ABCs, kiss, lay down and tuck in (including animals), then Peace be Still, and finally Jingle Bells. But you can't smile during Jingle Bells. That's a crime in toddler-ville. And you dare not cut in for the "hey!" and the "ha ha ha" parts of the favorite Christmas song. You get a serious tongue lashing for that.
Sweet pea is turning into my baseball buddy. As she climbed up in my lap yesterday while I had a game on, she told me that she likes baseball. However, she repeatedly tells my boys on the senior circuit to "Don't run! Walk!" Who said that baseball is too slow? Apparently, it's not slow enough.
All of this is to say that I'm thoroughly absorbing as much of the little one's incredible toddler-ness while it lasts. For here's the thing--she's my girl. Truly, truly, I'm her favorite, her world. I have never, ever ever ever, had this with her sister, and this devotion working in conjunction with she's our final little homemade confection that I'll ever bake, it's my IT right now. It's the highlight of many a day. It's the way I thought #1 would be.
We made a good choice to make a kid that likes me for a change.
I want to take a moment and talk about the little one. The peanut. Our sweet baby cakes.
First of all, she's almost all the way potty trained, and that's pretty great. This turn of events led me to "deconstructing" the changing table...with a rubber mallet. It was hauled away in the garbage truck this morning. Why such brute force? Well. Surely by now I've made this point, but just in case--WE'RE ALMOST DONE WITH DIAPERS FOREVERRRRRR. We're not excited about that. A couple of days ago, she was working on a #2 on her potty seat when she suddenly ducked her head and covered her eyes. When questioned, she responded "I'm hiding...from the poopy." Aren't we all.
The little bean is good for 7-8 word sentences, which is fun. She's also a crazy little mimic, mostly of big sister. This results in all sorts of hilarity. She also just told the boy to "Hey...take your hands off of me!" when he was helping her onto his lap. I wonder where she heard that before.
Sweetness is also good for memorizing her favorite books after a couple of read-throughs. It's always good to let the kid do all of the work at story time. That let's me start my own nap time that much earlier. (Anyone want to hear a variation on Boo Boo or Brown Bear, Brown Bear? She has a whole repertoire.)
The nugget still insists on a very specific set list for "cuddles" before sleep: Silent Night, then ABCs, kiss, lay down and tuck in (including animals), then Peace be Still, and finally Jingle Bells. But you can't smile during Jingle Bells. That's a crime in toddler-ville. And you dare not cut in for the "hey!" and the "ha ha ha" parts of the favorite Christmas song. You get a serious tongue lashing for that.
Sweet pea is turning into my baseball buddy. As she climbed up in my lap yesterday while I had a game on, she told me that she likes baseball. However, she repeatedly tells my boys on the senior circuit to "Don't run! Walk!" Who said that baseball is too slow? Apparently, it's not slow enough.
All of this is to say that I'm thoroughly absorbing as much of the little one's incredible toddler-ness while it lasts. For here's the thing--she's my girl. Truly, truly, I'm her favorite, her world. I have never, ever ever ever, had this with her sister, and this devotion working in conjunction with she's our final little homemade confection that I'll ever bake, it's my IT right now. It's the highlight of many a day. It's the way I thought #1 would be.
We made a good choice to make a kid that likes me for a change.
Thursday, July 17, 2014
By special request
Red alert, red alert, everyone...I'm going to write about cats (by special request). That opener was also a small nod to a certain science teacher in my life who used to have a Starship Enterprise alarm clock whilst a young(ish) lad, and the alarm part was actually the RED ALERT, RED ALERT sound. It has never entered my home, nor will it ever. I prefer not to wake up by sounds that induce pulse-stopping fear. Also, it's not my style.
From about the middle of June to just a few days ago, I didn't have much of anything to say. My well of inspiration was (actually, still is) strongly resembling much of California and the Southwest as a whole. Dry, baby, dry. But I got a request during that yawn-inducing stretch of nothing to write about cats. Well. I've been there sometimes when I have waxed poetic about sweet, diabetic Leo (who's off his insulin but will forever be expensive-food-dependent for the rest of his kitty life). But I can't remember writing about the general topic of "cats" before, so that is kind of new. And I have actually been thinking about what I would say. It's come down to this: stop dissing cats, people.
In all honesty, I don't get it. Why the hatred towards cats? Why not a hatred towards birds or rabbits, both of which I argue are far dirtier and more useless as a pet. Cats seems to be the scapegoat for all that many in our society deems as deviant, problematic, or evil. Shouldn't we kind of admire cats for their I-don't-care-no-matter-what-you-think-of-me attitudes? They do have some amount of grit and self-loving that many of us could use a little more of.
Perhaps I should offer the disclaimer that we do adore our two kitties, and I have always had at least 1 cat in my life since I was quite young. But I also think that it's more than that. I admire others' cats much like I admire dogs. They're nice, but they're not mine (not unlike my thoughts about children in public). I don't want scads of them. Qualify me if you must, I probably am what you would call a "cat person," but in actuality, I'm much, much more so an "animal person," one who admires that which is in God's creation.
Animals are stunning elements in our world. Really, truly stunning. More than once, I have been witness to someone disparaging animals in the manner of "We shouldn't care about saving animals because we don't save ourselves first." I hear the argument; I understand the emotion and gravity of this statement. Yet, I don't believe it to be at all this simple. These are not and will never be the same issue. How, and why, do we compare them as if they are? I have a love of animals, true. I also have a deep appreciation for the value of a human life. Why must I feel guilty about promoting the care for animals even though there are still humans on our Earth who are not adequately cared for? Must we ensure that every human is safe, fed and provided for before we care a whit that animals the world around have their natural habitats protected so that they may live as God intended? Are we to be so compartmentalized that we cannot care for both elements of creation at the same time?
I lose some faith in humanity when I hear the either/or ultimatum. We can and quite often do open our hearts to care for God's world in total. Perhaps the human life that we need to sacrifice, just a little, is our own in order to do so.
From about the middle of June to just a few days ago, I didn't have much of anything to say. My well of inspiration was (actually, still is) strongly resembling much of California and the Southwest as a whole. Dry, baby, dry. But I got a request during that yawn-inducing stretch of nothing to write about cats. Well. I've been there sometimes when I have waxed poetic about sweet, diabetic Leo (who's off his insulin but will forever be expensive-food-dependent for the rest of his kitty life). But I can't remember writing about the general topic of "cats" before, so that is kind of new. And I have actually been thinking about what I would say. It's come down to this: stop dissing cats, people.
In all honesty, I don't get it. Why the hatred towards cats? Why not a hatred towards birds or rabbits, both of which I argue are far dirtier and more useless as a pet. Cats seems to be the scapegoat for all that many in our society deems as deviant, problematic, or evil. Shouldn't we kind of admire cats for their I-don't-care-no-matter-what-you-think-of-me attitudes? They do have some amount of grit and self-loving that many of us could use a little more of.
Perhaps I should offer the disclaimer that we do adore our two kitties, and I have always had at least 1 cat in my life since I was quite young. But I also think that it's more than that. I admire others' cats much like I admire dogs. They're nice, but they're not mine (not unlike my thoughts about children in public). I don't want scads of them. Qualify me if you must, I probably am what you would call a "cat person," but in actuality, I'm much, much more so an "animal person," one who admires that which is in God's creation.
Animals are stunning elements in our world. Really, truly stunning. More than once, I have been witness to someone disparaging animals in the manner of "We shouldn't care about saving animals because we don't save ourselves first." I hear the argument; I understand the emotion and gravity of this statement. Yet, I don't believe it to be at all this simple. These are not and will never be the same issue. How, and why, do we compare them as if they are? I have a love of animals, true. I also have a deep appreciation for the value of a human life. Why must I feel guilty about promoting the care for animals even though there are still humans on our Earth who are not adequately cared for? Must we ensure that every human is safe, fed and provided for before we care a whit that animals the world around have their natural habitats protected so that they may live as God intended? Are we to be so compartmentalized that we cannot care for both elements of creation at the same time?
I lose some faith in humanity when I hear the either/or ultimatum. We can and quite often do open our hearts to care for God's world in total. Perhaps the human life that we need to sacrifice, just a little, is our own in order to do so.
Sunday, July 13, 2014
Speaking of miracles
The boy has an odd habit of starting many a conversation thread with the phrase "Speaking of..." You might be reading this with confusion right now, wondering "Why is this odd?" Because, friend. His "Speaking of..." comments usually refer to random crumbs of dialogue from six minutes ago. You have to be on your toes to follow his line of thought many a time.
Speaking of being on your toes...
We took our first vacation with children this past week, and that took a lot of planning. It didn't have to be as time consuming as it was, but the fruits of my labors, we did reap. It was a week of small miracles.
Speaking of miracles...
This isn't really a post about the vacation itself. It wasn't flashy, exotic or jealousy-sigh-inducing. But, frankly speaking, it was just right for our family right now. If A + B = C, then I'm going to go out on a limb and say that my family isn't flashy, exotic or jealousy-sigh-inducing either. That is an accurate statement. And, that works for our family right now, too. Living the life, my friend.
Here's my effort to reign it in here; I know you want to hear about the miracles. Ask and ye shall (maybe) receive.
*Five days. Hours in the car, including a stretch of 4 hours (a new high score for this bunch) to start the trip. Nary a whine. Nary a complaint. Nary a weep. I call that a miracle when sometimes I can't make it fifteen minutes across town without flailing and gnashing.
*Food. I was soaking up some HGTV early in the week, and one of the participants on the show was talking about his love of airplanes. He admires them so much to the extent that his self-proclaimed hobby is to buy a round trip cross-country ticket, say D.C. to San Francisco, and then fly the route just to fly. He doesn't stay in the destination city, doesn't sight see. He just enjoys what he calls the relaxation of the flight. It was something of a light bulb moment for me. If he can get away with calling that a hobby (though his partner definitely argued against the use of that term), then why can't I enjoy visiting new grocery stores as something of an odd hobby? I can. I did. I hit up 3 upscale, even swanky, little spots along the way, and managed to seemingly bring home more food than we ate for the week. Popcorns. Coffee. Vanilla macaroon granola (oooooooohhhhhhh, I love this). Roasted coconut chips. Coconut cashews. One place had a make-your own trail mix bar. One had three unique restaurants in it. One had a line of flavored vinegars and olive oils that you could sample before filling a jar with your preference. One had a little child care situation at the front of the store. Finding grocery stores isn't really a miracle, but it was a miraculous bit that they were all so accessible to where we were and that I walked through all of them sans-kids. It's hard to enjoy a good vinegar and olive oil bar when a small fry doesn't have the same interest. So...miracle.
*Ice cream. Prior to the trip amidst all of my hours of researching/planning/detail checking, I happened upon 3 ice cream/frozen yogurt places that were must try spots for me. And, in two days, I did. We hit up Jenni's, which is arguably one of the best in the country. We found a Graeter's with a playground in the store. I slipped into Bad Frog for some coconut (I see a theme emerging) froyo. They all live up to the hype, and I basically still fit into my clothes. Miracle.
*Accommodation #1. We tried the VRBO route for the first time, and it did not disappoint. Bedrooms for all. A stocked kitchen. Space to play and then veg after the kidlets were tucked away. Cheaper than a small hotel room. I wasn't sure how this was going to play out having never used this site before, so I'm going to label this a miracle.
*Accommodation #2. I found a cute-as-a-button bed and breakfast cottage for the 2nd leg of our tour de force, which frankly means knicknacks everywhere. Kitsch is one thing. Kitsch with young kids in tow is another. And nothing broke, which from any mother-of-young-children's point of view is a huge miracle.
*Prove me wrong. One big reason why we haven't really taken a vacation before is that I haven't been convinced it wouldn't be torture. Our kids generally don't ride well for long distances, and the boy isn't about to buy plane tickets for everyone. So we've been at something of an impasse for a while. Finally, we (mostly I) pushed aside our misgivings for the sake of a zoo and a couple of children museums that hit a good balance between child-friendly and adults-will-have-fun-too. My parents have a lake cottage that is easily accessible to us, and that has always sufficed to be our getaway spot for the last few years. But now, I already caught myself thinking about the next trip. And not only has my mind blazed that new trail, but also I found myself looking forward to another trip soon with the brood. I interpret this as all of the other small miracles adding up to this big one.
Speaking of being on your toes...
We took our first vacation with children this past week, and that took a lot of planning. It didn't have to be as time consuming as it was, but the fruits of my labors, we did reap. It was a week of small miracles.
Speaking of miracles...
This isn't really a post about the vacation itself. It wasn't flashy, exotic or jealousy-sigh-inducing. But, frankly speaking, it was just right for our family right now. If A + B = C, then I'm going to go out on a limb and say that my family isn't flashy, exotic or jealousy-sigh-inducing either. That is an accurate statement. And, that works for our family right now, too. Living the life, my friend.
Here's my effort to reign it in here; I know you want to hear about the miracles. Ask and ye shall (maybe) receive.
*Five days. Hours in the car, including a stretch of 4 hours (a new high score for this bunch) to start the trip. Nary a whine. Nary a complaint. Nary a weep. I call that a miracle when sometimes I can't make it fifteen minutes across town without flailing and gnashing.
*Food. I was soaking up some HGTV early in the week, and one of the participants on the show was talking about his love of airplanes. He admires them so much to the extent that his self-proclaimed hobby is to buy a round trip cross-country ticket, say D.C. to San Francisco, and then fly the route just to fly. He doesn't stay in the destination city, doesn't sight see. He just enjoys what he calls the relaxation of the flight. It was something of a light bulb moment for me. If he can get away with calling that a hobby (though his partner definitely argued against the use of that term), then why can't I enjoy visiting new grocery stores as something of an odd hobby? I can. I did. I hit up 3 upscale, even swanky, little spots along the way, and managed to seemingly bring home more food than we ate for the week. Popcorns. Coffee. Vanilla macaroon granola (oooooooohhhhhhh, I love this). Roasted coconut chips. Coconut cashews. One place had a make-your own trail mix bar. One had three unique restaurants in it. One had a line of flavored vinegars and olive oils that you could sample before filling a jar with your preference. One had a little child care situation at the front of the store. Finding grocery stores isn't really a miracle, but it was a miraculous bit that they were all so accessible to where we were and that I walked through all of them sans-kids. It's hard to enjoy a good vinegar and olive oil bar when a small fry doesn't have the same interest. So...miracle.
*Ice cream. Prior to the trip amidst all of my hours of researching/planning/detail checking, I happened upon 3 ice cream/frozen yogurt places that were must try spots for me. And, in two days, I did. We hit up Jenni's, which is arguably one of the best in the country. We found a Graeter's with a playground in the store. I slipped into Bad Frog for some coconut (I see a theme emerging) froyo. They all live up to the hype, and I basically still fit into my clothes. Miracle.
*Accommodation #1. We tried the VRBO route for the first time, and it did not disappoint. Bedrooms for all. A stocked kitchen. Space to play and then veg after the kidlets were tucked away. Cheaper than a small hotel room. I wasn't sure how this was going to play out having never used this site before, so I'm going to label this a miracle.
*Accommodation #2. I found a cute-as-a-button bed and breakfast cottage for the 2nd leg of our tour de force, which frankly means knicknacks everywhere. Kitsch is one thing. Kitsch with young kids in tow is another. And nothing broke, which from any mother-of-young-children's point of view is a huge miracle.
*Prove me wrong. One big reason why we haven't really taken a vacation before is that I haven't been convinced it wouldn't be torture. Our kids generally don't ride well for long distances, and the boy isn't about to buy plane tickets for everyone. So we've been at something of an impasse for a while. Finally, we (mostly I) pushed aside our misgivings for the sake of a zoo and a couple of children museums that hit a good balance between child-friendly and adults-will-have-fun-too. My parents have a lake cottage that is easily accessible to us, and that has always sufficed to be our getaway spot for the last few years. But now, I already caught myself thinking about the next trip. And not only has my mind blazed that new trail, but also I found myself looking forward to another trip soon with the brood. I interpret this as all of the other small miracles adding up to this big one.
Thursday, June 19, 2014
Camping in the Arctic circle
The title is pseudo-tongue in cheek. I assure you.
Normally, I don't choose the play-by-play route about our weekends/big events/every day minutia, though I often enjoy others who do. The everyday-is-the-sameness happens more often than not, and I, rightly so, feel that those kinds of posts get old quickly, like after I would do it twice. And then I'll lose 80% of my readers...I know who you are. And sometimes, I write for you, my friend.
Today, I feel like devolving into something of a weekend timeline from our first TENT camping experience with the girls. This was our 5th annual family camping trip (on the boy's side), and up to this point, we have loved our cabins, since we began this venture (foolishly?) when #1 was only 15 months old. Admittedly, the 3rd annual camping trip turned into a let's-stay-home-and-pretend-that-we're-camping-but-really-it's-just-a-family-get-together-in-the-in-law's-back-yard when #2 was just a few days old. Even cabin-ing wasn't going to cut it for us that year, though there are those among us who would have slung the little one on their backs along with about a week's worth of provisions and ventured forth to the Appalachian Trail without flinching. I am not that person.
So tent camping. It's been a few years since we have endeavored in a vacation of this nature, about 5 years actually. One summer, pre-kids, we did what every other member of the family seems to do and spent a week camping in New York-Cape Cod. That probably won't happen ever again. Not in tents. Maybe a Winnebago someday, just for kicks. But there are these cunning little places called bed & breakfasts scattered around the country, virtually everywhere in fact, and we have fallen in love with them. I'm good for a lovely little camping weekend, but beyond that, I'm willing to dole out the riches for a bit of space that I don't have to stoop in or while entering and exiting.
And, hey, did you know that tent camping can be mighty inconvenient when it's hot? And when it rains? I did (from experience, of course!). Now, after this past weekend, I have also become intimately acquainted with camping in the Arctic. Apparently, we moved there last weekend. But now we're back in the Midwest because the humidity tells me so.
I knew!!! that it was going to be cool at night. And I still packed short sleeved pajamas for the kids and myself because who's to say what a tent-turned-oven will be like at night? To my benefit, I also packed some (pitifully little) long-sleeved/legged things for us. But this doesn't keep my nose warm, and as it turns out, I can't sleep well/at all with a cold nose. And, I also abhor sleeping with my head under things, like a sleeping bag. Even better, I really just hate sleeping in the cold. When you can see your breath in the tent while you're adding on the layers, it gives you something of a negative mind-set heading into an attempt at sleep. Perhaps this isn't true for everyone, but it does for me. When it's coooold, other elements have to be perfect for sleep to find mine eyes. That means that the exuberant group at the next campsite needs to go find their quiet voices before 12:30. And their unnaturally bright lights need to be unplugged before dawn. And my tent needs to be warmer than my car.
I've gotten in this nasty habit of reading before going to sleep so much so that I have trouble falling asleep, even when very, very tired, without doing so. But I was sharing a tent with #2, and I'm betting that she wouldn't have understood my need for a lantern in the tent at 11 o'clock. So that started my night. And it was cold. And the neighbors were noisy. And bright. And #2 was having trouble sleeping. And I was worrying about whether she was warm enough. And I ended up grabbing her at 3 am along with my sleeping bag and cuddling with her in our car. She slept pretty well then. I dozed until about 6. And others in our camping party, who were farther away from the noisy neighbors and without children of their own to worry about at 3 a.m., found little to be bothersome from the night, to which I say "Good for you, but my story is better."
Tent camping with two littles was pretty successful overall. And this family knows how to bring delicious food on camping adventures, so there was (as always) a whole lot of that going on. Doesn't everyone have red quinoa/barley salad with feta and grape tomatoes, homemade apple/grape/ginger/lemon juice blends, and homemade pita bread as part of their camping fare? And, some new iteration of the classic S'more has become a must. This year, there were fresh shortbread cookies and waffle cone versions as well as pineapple upside down cake foil packets for good measure.
We hiked (moderately), we camp fired it up, we listened to stories from when my husband and his siblings were younger. We did all the camping type things that you can fit in to a brief 24-hour experience.
And because I'm on top of things, I still don't have several things put away; it's only been 4 days now. The boy has been gone all of the week prior and all of this week at a graduate/continuing education class, and I turned a blind eye to the after effects of a weekend away and took the girls to the zoo the day after we got back. Then life started again, and we've been away essentially for another two days, but I can see the plastic dishes sitting on my counter still and I know that there are some boxes in the garage that need to be cleaned and sorted. But, we're going camping again in about a month. Now I know to bring our winter gear for sleeping because camping in the Midwest in July gets cold at night. Maybe not?
Normally, I don't choose the play-by-play route about our weekends/big events/every day minutia, though I often enjoy others who do. The everyday-is-the-sameness happens more often than not, and I, rightly so, feel that those kinds of posts get old quickly, like after I would do it twice. And then I'll lose 80% of my readers...I know who you are. And sometimes, I write for you, my friend.
Today, I feel like devolving into something of a weekend timeline from our first TENT camping experience with the girls. This was our 5th annual family camping trip (on the boy's side), and up to this point, we have loved our cabins, since we began this venture (foolishly?) when #1 was only 15 months old. Admittedly, the 3rd annual camping trip turned into a let's-stay-home-and-pretend-that-we're-camping-but-really-it's-just-a-family-get-together-in-the-in-law's-back-yard when #2 was just a few days old. Even cabin-ing wasn't going to cut it for us that year, though there are those among us who would have slung the little one on their backs along with about a week's worth of provisions and ventured forth to the Appalachian Trail without flinching. I am not that person.
So tent camping. It's been a few years since we have endeavored in a vacation of this nature, about 5 years actually. One summer, pre-kids, we did what every other member of the family seems to do and spent a week camping in New York-Cape Cod. That probably won't happen ever again. Not in tents. Maybe a Winnebago someday, just for kicks. But there are these cunning little places called bed & breakfasts scattered around the country, virtually everywhere in fact, and we have fallen in love with them. I'm good for a lovely little camping weekend, but beyond that, I'm willing to dole out the riches for a bit of space that I don't have to stoop in or while entering and exiting.
And, hey, did you know that tent camping can be mighty inconvenient when it's hot? And when it rains? I did (from experience, of course!). Now, after this past weekend, I have also become intimately acquainted with camping in the Arctic. Apparently, we moved there last weekend. But now we're back in the Midwest because the humidity tells me so.
I knew!!! that it was going to be cool at night. And I still packed short sleeved pajamas for the kids and myself because who's to say what a tent-turned-oven will be like at night? To my benefit, I also packed some (pitifully little) long-sleeved/legged things for us. But this doesn't keep my nose warm, and as it turns out, I can't sleep well/at all with a cold nose. And, I also abhor sleeping with my head under things, like a sleeping bag. Even better, I really just hate sleeping in the cold. When you can see your breath in the tent while you're adding on the layers, it gives you something of a negative mind-set heading into an attempt at sleep. Perhaps this isn't true for everyone, but it does for me. When it's coooold, other elements have to be perfect for sleep to find mine eyes. That means that the exuberant group at the next campsite needs to go find their quiet voices before 12:30. And their unnaturally bright lights need to be unplugged before dawn. And my tent needs to be warmer than my car.
I've gotten in this nasty habit of reading before going to sleep so much so that I have trouble falling asleep, even when very, very tired, without doing so. But I was sharing a tent with #2, and I'm betting that she wouldn't have understood my need for a lantern in the tent at 11 o'clock. So that started my night. And it was cold. And the neighbors were noisy. And bright. And #2 was having trouble sleeping. And I was worrying about whether she was warm enough. And I ended up grabbing her at 3 am along with my sleeping bag and cuddling with her in our car. She slept pretty well then. I dozed until about 6. And others in our camping party, who were farther away from the noisy neighbors and without children of their own to worry about at 3 a.m., found little to be bothersome from the night, to which I say "Good for you, but my story is better."
Tent camping with two littles was pretty successful overall. And this family knows how to bring delicious food on camping adventures, so there was (as always) a whole lot of that going on. Doesn't everyone have red quinoa/barley salad with feta and grape tomatoes, homemade apple/grape/ginger/lemon juice blends, and homemade pita bread as part of their camping fare? And, some new iteration of the classic S'more has become a must. This year, there were fresh shortbread cookies and waffle cone versions as well as pineapple upside down cake foil packets for good measure.
We hiked (moderately), we camp fired it up, we listened to stories from when my husband and his siblings were younger. We did all the camping type things that you can fit in to a brief 24-hour experience.
And because I'm on top of things, I still don't have several things put away; it's only been 4 days now. The boy has been gone all of the week prior and all of this week at a graduate/continuing education class, and I turned a blind eye to the after effects of a weekend away and took the girls to the zoo the day after we got back. Then life started again, and we've been away essentially for another two days, but I can see the plastic dishes sitting on my counter still and I know that there are some boxes in the garage that need to be cleaned and sorted. But, we're going camping again in about a month. Now I know to bring our winter gear for sleeping because camping in the Midwest in July gets cold at night. Maybe not?
Saturday, May 31, 2014
Two lives
Snapshot of a life #1:
We have (presumably) 2 baby doves, freshly hatched today. I haven't glimpsed them yet, though I've been looking hard today. I did get to sit beside the nest this afternoon and spend a while alternating between a book and watching Mama Dove feed the babes, from whom I could hear the very smallest of cooing sounds.
While I'm not a "baby person," not one to go nutty over newly minted infants, I still greatly appreciate and am continually awed by the progression of and sudden understanding of new persons. One moment the world is complete and the next there is a new presence, which will forever be a name, a body, a potential.
Snapshot of a life #2:
A teacher friend/acquaintance of ours is devastatingly and suddenly diagnosed with a brain tumor. While I did not have the luxury of teaching with this man for longer than a few months, I knew of him and about him for several years. Like so many others who have been through his classroom or have worked alongside him, I think of him as an honest representation of all that is good in education.
He is yet another representation of a person who has been touched by all that is unfair. In my time with this school, I struggled with reading my co-workers, what my role was in the school dynamics and how I could or should approach others. Tim, however, has always been a good memory of those rough months. I remember two distinct conversations with him quite vividly not because of what we talked about (though I do remember that as well) but because of the acceptance with which he treated me. I was not, somehow, an outsider to him trying to break through and find a place. His conversations were seamless, which I suspect is true for all whom he comes in contact with.
I heard of Team Strand 4 days ago at which time $6000 had been raised to help off set the cost of Tim's treatment goal of $97,000, which at the time seemed an insurmountable sum to crowd source. As I write this, over $64,000 have been raised, including many many donations from former students. Goosebumps. What a perfect testimony to the power of an individual, one who embodies truth and the pursuit of good, one who treats others with purpose and acceptance.
One moment his world was complete and the next, there was suddenly a new presence, which will forever have a name, a mass, a potential.
We have (presumably) 2 baby doves, freshly hatched today. I haven't glimpsed them yet, though I've been looking hard today. I did get to sit beside the nest this afternoon and spend a while alternating between a book and watching Mama Dove feed the babes, from whom I could hear the very smallest of cooing sounds.
While I'm not a "baby person," not one to go nutty over newly minted infants, I still greatly appreciate and am continually awed by the progression of and sudden understanding of new persons. One moment the world is complete and the next there is a new presence, which will forever be a name, a body, a potential.
Snapshot of a life #2:
A teacher friend/acquaintance of ours is devastatingly and suddenly diagnosed with a brain tumor. While I did not have the luxury of teaching with this man for longer than a few months, I knew of him and about him for several years. Like so many others who have been through his classroom or have worked alongside him, I think of him as an honest representation of all that is good in education.
He is yet another representation of a person who has been touched by all that is unfair. In my time with this school, I struggled with reading my co-workers, what my role was in the school dynamics and how I could or should approach others. Tim, however, has always been a good memory of those rough months. I remember two distinct conversations with him quite vividly not because of what we talked about (though I do remember that as well) but because of the acceptance with which he treated me. I was not, somehow, an outsider to him trying to break through and find a place. His conversations were seamless, which I suspect is true for all whom he comes in contact with.
I heard of Team Strand 4 days ago at which time $6000 had been raised to help off set the cost of Tim's treatment goal of $97,000, which at the time seemed an insurmountable sum to crowd source. As I write this, over $64,000 have been raised, including many many donations from former students. Goosebumps. What a perfect testimony to the power of an individual, one who embodies truth and the pursuit of good, one who treats others with purpose and acceptance.
One moment his world was complete and the next, there was suddenly a new presence, which will forever have a name, a mass, a potential.
Friday, May 23, 2014
Poking, prodding and collecting...doesn't everyone do this?
Pee-se be seated unless urine a hurry. (There's something about being an adult and/or a parent that makes your normal inhibitions take flight, hence the punny foreshadowing. Feel free to stop reading really at any time if this isn't your thing.)
Well, obviously, this is about that liquid gold that doctors love so much. Not love in the normal way, mind you but more in the favorite-lab-test-don't-know-what's-wrong-with-you-let's-get-a-urine-sample-and-see-what's-happening kind of "love." This post is also not about me, cause, you know...why would I be writing about this if it were about me? Well, I wouldn't. Instead, it's about my kid, so that's fair game, right???
It's a story of trying to get a quick, easy little urine sample from a non-toilet-trained child. Apparently, we have discovered the medical crux for #2. With our oldest, she only has to look at another kid who has the sniffles and that child's cold magically seems to morph into an ear infection in my own. For the majority of her first 3 years of life, my child was only around 1 other kid for child care. The odds of avoiding mass sickness were in her favor. It practically gives me the vapors to think of what would have happened if she were in a more traditional child care situation for those years. We're just doing our part to help create a new Amoxycilin resistant superbug. (Remember when I wrote about the time I had to physically restrain her by laying over her upper torso while two kind but perfunctory nurses gave her painful shots in her thighs because the traditional antibiotic route had been exhausted...on her birthday. I do.)
To her credit, #2 scoffed her way through a couple of small ear infections. No big deal. She doesn't let those get in her way. Which is fan-tas-tic given her turbulent relationship with Amoxycilin. However, she does seem to have a procilivity for UTIs. This leads us to the most recent bout with collecting "a sample." It has been something of a 3-day saga involving
*2 juice boxes
*a 2-hour visit to a walk-in clinic
*the happiest, most amenable kid I could possibly imagine in an exam room
*songs...lots of songs
*careening across town to get our almost-5-year-old (!!!)'s closing program for pre-school
*20 minutes massaging (manhandling? probing? palpating? all of the above) the little one's lower abdominal, e.g. bladder, region so as to lead to "a sample" while she merrily ignored my urgency and continued to play with the tie on my shirt in an imperturbable manner
*cookie bribes
*a couple of collection cups hanging around the house...nothing brings back memories of pregnancies like those
*putting things on backwards
*spilling things
*going through a whole explanation with the med office about how, well, my child can't really potty on the potty on demand given that she has never done this before...no, it doesn't matter that there's a special little "hat" for her to sit on (hat??? why in the world would we call it that?)
*and more!
Though she might disagree, this is happening to the right kid. Our youngest is unflappable when dealing with matters that the rest of us cringe, cry and curse from. Watching the doctor poke around on her little body, my first thought was "Wow, this child will have no problem with her annual OB/Gyn visits." I'm sympathetic like that, apparently.
Finally, here's a shout out to out babysitter, i.e. my mother-in-law who will never read this, who takes it all in stride. She ended up waiting at our house for about 1/2 an hour by herself until I came back from the "quick" visit to the doctor, only to throw a hungry kid at her an hour before the child's bedtime with brief instructions to feed/brush/dress the little one, and, oh, please get a urine sample from her as well. Then I rushed out the door for the frantic, aforementioned dash across town to catch at least a couple of songs that only a 4 and 5-year olds would sing so enthusiastically (and with motions!) in front of a couple of hundred people.
I'm not a big proponent of starting potty training before a child turns 2, no matter the gender. But this situation, admittedly, has given me the slightest urge to start the training post haste. We're all hoping to get this mess out of the way so that the birthday celebrations (plural!) can commence because in this family, when you have kids, you bunch the birthdays all together, which makes for a good amount of present wrapping, cake and ice cream all at once. In a mere 2 1/2 weeks, we'll have not only a brand new 5-year old but a newly minted 2-year old as well. These are good times that make up for a lot for those moments that are less than ideal.
Well, obviously, this is about that liquid gold that doctors love so much. Not love in the normal way, mind you but more in the favorite-lab-test-don't-know-what's-wrong-with-you-let's-get-a-urine-sample-and-see-what's-happening kind of "love." This post is also not about me, cause, you know...why would I be writing about this if it were about me? Well, I wouldn't. Instead, it's about my kid, so that's fair game, right???
It's a story of trying to get a quick, easy little urine sample from a non-toilet-trained child. Apparently, we have discovered the medical crux for #2. With our oldest, she only has to look at another kid who has the sniffles and that child's cold magically seems to morph into an ear infection in my own. For the majority of her first 3 years of life, my child was only around 1 other kid for child care. The odds of avoiding mass sickness were in her favor. It practically gives me the vapors to think of what would have happened if she were in a more traditional child care situation for those years. We're just doing our part to help create a new Amoxycilin resistant superbug. (Remember when I wrote about the time I had to physically restrain her by laying over her upper torso while two kind but perfunctory nurses gave her painful shots in her thighs because the traditional antibiotic route had been exhausted...on her birthday. I do.)
To her credit, #2 scoffed her way through a couple of small ear infections. No big deal. She doesn't let those get in her way. Which is fan-tas-tic given her turbulent relationship with Amoxycilin. However, she does seem to have a procilivity for UTIs. This leads us to the most recent bout with collecting "a sample." It has been something of a 3-day saga involving
*2 juice boxes
*a 2-hour visit to a walk-in clinic
*the happiest, most amenable kid I could possibly imagine in an exam room
*songs...lots of songs
*careening across town to get our almost-5-year-old (!!!)'s closing program for pre-school
*20 minutes massaging (manhandling? probing? palpating? all of the above) the little one's lower abdominal, e.g. bladder, region so as to lead to "a sample" while she merrily ignored my urgency and continued to play with the tie on my shirt in an imperturbable manner
*cookie bribes
*a couple of collection cups hanging around the house...nothing brings back memories of pregnancies like those
*putting things on backwards
*spilling things
*going through a whole explanation with the med office about how, well, my child can't really potty on the potty on demand given that she has never done this before...no, it doesn't matter that there's a special little "hat" for her to sit on (hat??? why in the world would we call it that?)
*and more!
Though she might disagree, this is happening to the right kid. Our youngest is unflappable when dealing with matters that the rest of us cringe, cry and curse from. Watching the doctor poke around on her little body, my first thought was "Wow, this child will have no problem with her annual OB/Gyn visits." I'm sympathetic like that, apparently.
Finally, here's a shout out to out babysitter, i.e. my mother-in-law who will never read this, who takes it all in stride. She ended up waiting at our house for about 1/2 an hour by herself until I came back from the "quick" visit to the doctor, only to throw a hungry kid at her an hour before the child's bedtime with brief instructions to feed/brush/dress the little one, and, oh, please get a urine sample from her as well. Then I rushed out the door for the frantic, aforementioned dash across town to catch at least a couple of songs that only a 4 and 5-year olds would sing so enthusiastically (and with motions!) in front of a couple of hundred people.
I'm not a big proponent of starting potty training before a child turns 2, no matter the gender. But this situation, admittedly, has given me the slightest urge to start the training post haste. We're all hoping to get this mess out of the way so that the birthday celebrations (plural!) can commence because in this family, when you have kids, you bunch the birthdays all together, which makes for a good amount of present wrapping, cake and ice cream all at once. In a mere 2 1/2 weeks, we'll have not only a brand new 5-year old but a newly minted 2-year old as well. These are good times that make up for a lot for those moments that are less than ideal.
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