Yurt Camping With Friends

Our friends have a tradition of camping at the coast one weekend each summer. This year we joined them, as did about seven other families. We pretty much took over the campground with a group of about fifty--most of them kids. Our yurt was booked exactly nine months in advance, five minutes after the phone lines were open. That is how fast the yurts sell out. Camping at the coast is a chilly adventure, and having some thicker walls, a heater, and pseudo-mattresses are a real plus for those of us nearing age forty. Yes, we are wimpy and old, and have no shame in admitting that.

The temps in Portland were in the high 90s and triple-digits during the weekend we were gone. Generally, the temps are 20 degrees cooler at the coast, which we figured would be perfect. Unfortunately, I didn't take into account The Wind, which is always present at the coast, and lowers the temps even farther. Let's just say the one pair of pants and one fleece I had packed for each person got worn plum out over four days. I had no idea we could get as dirty as we did. Hello, camping.

Besides being a bit cold, we had a great time and the kids pretty much ran for three days straight. We stayed for three nights and four days, which was the perfect amount of time. Long enough to make the packing worth it, but short enough to not need a full chiropractic exam upon arriving home.

And now for the pics.

Here's our yurt site, which comes with a yurt (duh), picnic table, and a fire pit. The hammock is ours. Yes, we packed our hammock.

Inside the yurt, there was a futon, which could sleep two of the kids:

Plus a bunk bed for the parents on the bottom and one kid on top:

It's not camping until hot dogs are cooked over the fire. Everything tastes better when cooked outside. Especially when I'm not the one doing the cooking.

We picked up a couple of "pudgie pie makers" especially for this trip. This is a memory from Pa's childhood. It's basically a cast iron sandwich maker. We buttered some blueberry streusel bread and stuck blueberry pie filling in between. Nummy samwidge.

With nine families attending, there was no end of things for the kids to do. They mostly made up games based on whatever things were on hand. Here they had one of our parachute guys and a whole bunch of kids went running, throwing, and catching. 

Friday was the sunniest day, so we headed to the coast to play. Here were are walking towards Fogarty Creek. Complete with Pa wearing long pants and the boys wearing fleece.

This was our view as we all enjoyed a picnic lunch. The whole group had ventured to the same beach, which was about a 20-minute drive from the campsite.

First critter we saw was a starfish. The water was its typical self--cold, cold, cold. This particular beach didn't have a very big shallow area, so we didn't hang out at the ocean's edge for too long. 

This spot along the coast had a big-ol' wall of sand the kids could climb. Campers is the one in the gray fleece.

See?

This is what the boys looked like after playing on the wall of sand:

We also took some walks to see the waves roll in:

The temps were warm enough that day to make the sand feel hot. Yay! 

We picked this spot along the coast because it had water for the kids to play in that was not the cold and dangerous ocean. The group of kids spent a long, long time in the creek.

They also spent some time covering themselves with sand:

  

The boys were the biggest fans of the creek. Building dams, digging for clay, making castles. They were a delight to watch, so industrious and happy.

We had tried to pack our kite, as the windy coast is a great spot to fly one. Unfortunately, one of our kids had dragged the thing through the garage, getting its string in knots and tied around a chair. I tried (in vain) for about an hour to get it undone. Fortunately, someone in our group brought a kite and the Suz was ever-so-excited to try it out. One thing she has going for her is energy--which means that kite was up in the air in no time. One thing she doesn't have is control, which means that kite nose-dived to the creek about three seconds later. Wheeee!

Here's the Suz in the creek, about to give me the what-for for not letting her wear her uncomfortable swim suit. Yeah, it stinks to be a girl sometimes.

Back at the campground, the kids played several rousing games of Skill Ball:

And the Suz got to join in on a fun round of Sequence:

Two of the nights we shared a potluck supper, with half of the families supplying one meal and the other half supplying the second meal. Handy! Plus, it was a nice way for all of us to connect at least one time a day. We'd talk, and play, and follow that up with some talking and playing.

On Saturday, the whole gang went to a nearby playground where the kids did more of the same--running and playing and then running some more:

The Suz was in her element. All people, all the time.

The introverts of the crowd headed to the campsite early to take in a little peace and quiet. The five of us spent some time resting and cleaning up and playing games at the table.

You can see that the kids are starting to wear down! I'm pretty sure they haven't spent that much physical energy ever before in their short, youthful lives. 

We all had a great time, though Pa and I pretty much collapsed once we got home. Our bodies haven't been that tired since who knows when. As for my voice, it has recovered enough that I could converse like a normal person, at least for most of the day. I still can't shout or sing or talk for long periods of time. But it was a joy not having to whisper or sit quietly. 

Anyway, the kids are already begging to go again, which I'm sure we'll do at some point. In the meantime, Pa and I are reacquainting ourselves with such luxuries as "comfortable chairs" and "TVs." Ahh, the good life.

The Summer I Couldn't Talk

Back in late June, I decided to be "the fun mom" and carry my girl via piggy-back. She soon decided to kick that fun up a thousand notches and drop her legs from around my waist, thus holding on with only her hands. Her hands happened to be around my neck and once she realized that was a really bad plan for her safety, she held on even more tightly and it took a great deal of effort to pry her arms off of my throat. Immediately I thought, oh yeah, that hurts, but I'll be fine tomorrow.

Well, that was over four weeks ago and I'm still not able to talk. And the "pain in the neck" is still there, which affects my eating and sleeping and what position I sit in while watching TV. 

I went to my doctor and she proclaimed that everything was functioning (swallowing, breathing) and nothing was broken, but I'd need to keep whispering while my voice box healed.

Next stop was to the ENT (ear, nose, and throat doctor) where I had the joy of getting a scope sent down the nose. I knew what was coming, so I'd spent a good two weeks dreading that experience. Fortunately, they numbed my airway (brought on by some snorting on my part) so I didn't feel much of the scope. Unfortunately, they numbed my airway, which felt a lot like suffocation with a side dish of Bad Taste in the Mouth. My ENT took a close look at my vocal cords, all while I got to "heee" and "hum" and contort my face into awkward positions. I should also mention there was a mirror right in front of me, so I had to spend the whole appointment averting my eyes. Really, whose idea was that? Anyway, my doctor saw from the scope that one part of my vocal cord area is pulled from the side. She said that could be normal for my voice box, or it could be from the injury. I now have to get a CT scan of my neck so they can look more closely at that issue. That's happening a week from now.

In the meantime, I've been whispering when it's necessary to talk, and writing notes when whispering can't work. Yeah, that's not odd at all at the bank / grocery store / library / pizza store / gas station / community center! For those who thought I was anti-social before--well, I'm reaching new heights of introversion now. It's impossible for me to talk on the phone, and socializing is pretty much out of the question. You'd think I'd be overjoyed, but really, solitary confinement has its downside. Thank the heavens above for Facebook and e-mail!

The kids are "ecstatic" that Mom can't talk. After all, they're not getting nagged and yelled at every ten minutes. However, it's amazing what can be accomplished with simply A LOOK. I am honing my non-verbal communication skills, FOR SURE. And we're all learning to walk up to one another when we need to "talk." Who knew we had it in us?!

My voice works, but barely. I have to speak very quietly, and about one minute of Real Speech earns me an hour of additional swelling and pain. So! Not talking. I have no doubt (and my ENT agrees) that I'll need to see a vocal coach to ease me back to normalcy. See what I get for trying to have fun?

I have no guess as to when I'll be back to normal, but as you can see from the title of this post, I have my hopes set on talking LIKE A NORMAL PERSON before August is done. So, there you have it. This is hereby been named, "The Summer I Couldn't Talk."

Snippets From The Week: The July 28, 2012 Edition

We have a bunch of Dum-Dum suckers lying around, and the Suz came up to me and asked, "Mom? Could I have some of those um... popsi... no, um... LOLLYSTICKS?

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The Suz put two sticks together in the shape of a "t" and said to me, "This is the cross that Jesus died on. He was put there by the Indians. You know, the BAD GUYS."

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Campers to his sister:  "Have you ever seen a dinosaur?"

Suz:  "Noooooooo, of course not! We've not even been to the zoo!!!"

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Suz:  "Mom? Why are you making all this food?"

Me:  "It's for a little Olympic party we're having tonight."

Suz:  "Right! Well, the cat needs a birthday sometime."

Hot Pads For Sale, Hot Pads For Sale

Recently I got to telling the boys how I used to make hot pads as a kid. You remember the ones--the loops and the weaving and the loops, loops, loops, loops. I used to make those by the hour, and my mom still has the (unused) hot pads to prove it. I realized that my kids were at the right age to enjoy the craft, so I've been keeping an eye out for a kit at the stores. Finally found one at Stuff Mart and all three kids have been making hot pads like they're going out of style. I'm keeping them all but not using them, because that's what a good mom apparently does.

 

Sure, You Can Each Have One

On the way out the door of buying our washer, the kids flew to the mowers and begged us to buy one. They said that their uncle owns one, so why shouldn't we? Well, maybe it's because we couldn't turn the machine around in our yard without doing a ten-point turn. But it would be mowed in two minutes or less, by golly!

 

Best Washing Gig In Town

On Memorial Day weekend, I stuck a load of laundry in my washer (that came with the house--no great deal there!) and it soon sounded like a 747 was landing at the door. Pa immediately said, "You will NOT use that washer. Ever. Again." The washer has squeaked and danced like a salsa girl since we first moved in, so we knew it was just a matter of time before the thing went kaput. 

Fortunately, the stores were having great sales during the holiday weekend, so we flew out the door the next day and had a new washer picked out and bought within five minutes. Easy come, easy go. 

I had to think for a minute or two if I wanted to spend the extra money to get the pedestal that sits under the machine. But when I went over to the salesman to see about the price, I couldn't think of the word "pedestal," so I simply said, "Hey, how much is the.... booster seat that sits under the washer?" Well, I wasn't really trying to be funny, but the guy got to laughing and said that was the first he's ever heard it called that. What can I say. I was channeling my mom.

Anyway. Because everyone and their mother had the same idea to shop the holiday sales--it took a few days for the washer to arrive. You should have seen our pile of laundry. Wow. Mt. Washmore, for sure. As soon as the helpful, handy men got the washer hooked up, I had that thing on super-test and got us all caught up. The kids were fascinated by the machine and watched it spin *the entire fifty-eight minutes* the first load ran. And at the end--the washer does not buzz--it jingles a little tune. I still catch them dancing to that music. Cute one, Samsung.

I'm very glad to have a front-loading machine now as our water bill is *insane.* Hundreds, people, hundreds. According to the internet, which is never wrong, my new washer will cut water usage by 63%. To which Pa replied, "Great! I can now take longer showers." 

Even the cat loves the washer. He'll sit and watch the front-loader spin til he can't watch it spin any longer. You're welcome, cat. I bought it just for you.

 

Cello, Is That You?

The summer concert season has started in certain parks around town. I love to pack sandwiches and get out of the house in the middle of the day while the sun is actually shining. Recently, we went downtown to listen to a cello duet--two women who played Beethoven as well as the Beatles. The kids weren't embarrassed by my singing of "Michelle, My Bell," of course they weren't.

Since the concert was outdoors and the cellos weren't mic'd, the sound was a little on the quiet side. I mentioned to Campers that I was having trouble hearing the cellos and he said, "Probably cuz they're not blowing hard enough."

I love that kid.

We wrapped up the outing with a trip to a fro-yo place, because really, that's how I got the kids to the concert in the first place. Bribery. It works.

 

The Middle One Is Eight

Back in early spring, we all attended a silent auction where the Zig bid on a model airplane, and won. I'm not sure why he chose that particular thing to bid on, but he's always looking for things to love. Pets, bugs, stuffed animals, telephone poles, small planes. Soon after that, he read everything he could get his hands on concerning the P-51 Mustang used in WWII and quickly decided he wanted his birthday cake with that theme.

We joked for a while about Pa making a big ol' airplane out of cake, but when it was all said and done, the cake was decorated with fondant and frosting in the theme of the P-51 Mustang. Sounds simpler, but Pa and I likely put hours into that cake. Heh heh, our poor aching backs.

Regardless. My boy is eight, which is good, because I've been saying he is eight for a few months now. It's just easier. I like it when my kids' ages are all two years apart because my memory, MY POOR AGING MEMORY cannot handle so many numbers at one time!

We had a small party at home with the five of us. Pa had taken the day off of work and Zig got to spend the bulk of the day playing with his presents, which is his idea of perfection. Low stress, low on the human interaction. We did make a little outing to Sweet Tomatoes for dinner, because no matter how introverted the majority of us might be, we still can't resist The Call Of The All-You-Can-Eat Buffet.

Ziggy's presents were Legos with a side of Legos, with some plane-themed gifts in there too. Each kid got a small non-tangling parachute man--great fun for all of us in the front yard. Took Pa about five minutes before he was rigging up a contraption to make the guys soar up even higher. And I'm not saying I nearly threw my arm out of joint trying to make mine fly highest--but I might have.

Happy eighth birthday, Zig!

Snippets From The Week: The June 9, 2012 Edition

We were working out in the garden one day, and I noticed that some dill had voluntarily come up all over the place. The kids wanted to know what dill was, so I explained it was the flavor they knew from dill pickles. A week or so later, the Suz was looking at the garden and asked, "Hey, Mom! Where'd you plant the pickles?"

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I keep a couple of drawing books around for the kids to use. Lately the Suz has been drawing animals, and today she brought me a picture of a "drwa tiger." I spent some time trying to figure out what a "drwa" tiger was and then it dawned on me--each page in the book is titled "draw a _____" with the animal listed after that. Ah. "Draw a tiger." The Suz had merely copied what she assumed was the animal's name.

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We're big fans of Subway around here, and recently the Zig asked if I'd buy some sub sandwich bread so we could replicate our favorites at home. I had the special sandwiches all made one day, and when the Suz saw them, she started jumping up and down and yelling "We're having BUNdles? BUNdles? Like when we have hot dogs?"

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No surprise, as we drive around town, I've got the Suz a babbling and singing, and Campers asking logical and tech questions galore. Zig sits in the back by himself (who can blame him?!) and I almost always have to double-check to make sure he's there because he's just. that. quiet. 

I asked him the other night about his time in the van. 

Me:  "When you're sitting all quiet in the back of the van, what are you thinking?

Zig: (thoughtful pause)

Zig:  "Happy thoughts."

Me:  "Like what?"

Zig:  (another pause)

Zig:  "Like how I'll see the cat when we get home."

In all my days, I have never met anyone who lives life with such quiet content. Can I bottle that up and SELL IT?!?

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Our local grocery story is Fred Meyer, which everyone refers to as "Freddy's." I was headed there this past week, and here's my conversation with the Suz right before I walked out the door.

Suz:  "Where you goin', Mom? Fred Meyer? Or Freddy's?"

Me:  "Fred Meyer and Freddy's are the same thing."

Suz:  "Which one?! JUST! TELL! ME! Freddy's or Fred Meyer?!?!"

Me:  "Freddy's."

Suz:  "Oh, okay!"

Me:  "And then I'm going to Fred Meyer. And back to Freddy's. It'll be a long night."

[Neither one of us can stand to not have the last word.]

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Suz:  "I saw the mainian debbil!"

Me:  "The what?!"

Suz:  "The MAINIAN DEBBIL!!"

After twenty questions, followed by a lesson on how to tell a story, I finally figured out she was talking about the Tasmanian devil, which she saw on TV. Of course.

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Suz:  "I really liked San Francisco. When can we trabbel there again?"

Me:  "It's travel."

Suz:  "I know! TRABBEL TRABBEL TRABBEL!!! That's what I said!!!"

Blessings

My babies are now 10, 8, and 6--and each day I feel blessed, blessed, blessed. Occasionally we're stressed, and usually a mess, but when I see them all cleaned up and being BEST FRIENDS, well, there is nothing quite like it.