A Camping We Must Go.

I have often said that I could live the rest of my life in an airlock in outer space and never miss going outside. Needless to say, I’m not really an outdoorsy person. I like my air – conditioned. My bathrooms – indoors. My showers – hot. And my bed – high off the ground. But this coming Saturday, nature and I have a date with destiny: I am going camping with my family. Outside. In a tent. All night long.

Why, you ask, would I do such a thing? In a heavily ironic twist of fate, I find myself the co-leader of my ten-year-old son’s Cub Scout den. I, along with my sister-in-law, are responsible for helping seven boys learn a variety of nature-related skills on their way to becoming Boy Scouts. Though I could not be less qualified for this work, I was willing and available to help, so I got the job.

For most of the skills we have to teach the boys, we can either call in a professional to help (knot-tying, wood whittling, or CPR) or we can do a quick-study and teach them ourselves (baking soda volcanoes, recycling projects, and bicycle safety). But this year, the boys have to earn their Outdoorsman Activity Badge and this requires – you guessed it – spending time outdoors. So we are all going on a Cub Scout Family Camp this Saturday. Outside. In a tent. All night long.

I had actually hoped never to go camping again. I went once when I was nineteen and living in Colorado for the summer with three friends. We, or rather, they decided it would be fun to go camping for a night. We, or rather, they were wrong. I don’t remember all the details, but I do remember a few important lessons I learned that night:

  1. Building a fire is harder than it looks.
  2. Cold hot dogs do not taste good.
  3. Never underestimate a 30% chance of rain.
  4. Not all tents are waterproof.
  5. One can never wear too much bug spray.
  6. Fear of a bear attack will keep a girl up all night.
  7. Any activity in which you have to “watch out for snakes” is not for me.
  8. It is not possible to “hold-it” all night when you’ve had a certain amount of diet coke.
  9. Going to the bathroom outside in the dark when you’re a girl can be tricky and upsetting.
  10.  You can get poison ivy anywhere on your body.

I survived my one night of camping, considered it a victory that I didn’t go sleep in the car, and checked it off my to-do list forever. But here I am, too many years later, and there Camping is, on my list again.  And this time I can’t even comfort myself by complaining about it. As a den leader, I have to show enthusiasm and excitement about camping! I have to model for the kids a positive attitude, a willingness to jump in, and if not show a love for nature, then at the very least hide my contempt for it. And I’ll have to do it all outside. In a tent. All night long.

I’d like to say that maybe I will learn to enjoy communing with nature this time around, but I am too old for that kind of naïve optimism. My only real goal is to make it through the experience without the boys picking up on my aversion to great outdoors. Second to that, I’m hoping for a dry forecast, a snake-free tent, and a personal state of semi-dehydration that will allow me to make it through till morning without needing a potty break. Because whatever else I will be this weekend – itchy, scared, cold, hungry – I will definitely be outside. In a tent. All night long.

Wish me luck.


We’re Having Fun. Quit Your Whining.

Sometimes, having fun with my kids can be a lot of work. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a worthwhile pursuit – but there are times when it just plain wears me out. And I know I’m not the only one. I recognize the same weary look in the faces of moms and dads all over the place – at zoos, at museums, at parks, and always, always at Disney World.

I’ve been thinking a lot about why Family Fun isn’t as “fun” as it should be and I’ve come up with a new theory: Family Fun is composed of only 10% actual fun. The rest of Family Fun consists of complaining, whining, sibling rivalry, snappish comments, over-priced snacks, long waits, temperatures that are too hot, temperatures that are too cold, over-priced souvenirs, lines that are too long, rides that are too short, museums that are too boring, cars that are too small, planes that are too bumpy, food that is too different, and one too many requests to ‘say cheese.’

Inexplicably, when you combine all these factors together and look retrospectively through the lens of a proper cooling off period, (length of cooling off period will vary) more often than not, you are left with what passes for fond memories. Go figure.

I’m still waiting for the fond memories to replace my actual memories of my most recent Family Fun adventure. Yesterday, my husband and I decided we would take our kids on a family bike ride. The weather was perfect – a cool 68°F with overcast skies and a light breeze. We had nothing else to do that day and we figured the kids would be overjoyed. Here is a transcript of our discussion prior to our Fun activity:

Mom & Dad: “Hey kids, how would you like to go on a family bike ride?”

Son: “Maybe.”

Daughter: “Will there be food?”

Mom & Dad: “No –what? We thought we would go on the trail and just enjoy this nice day!”

Son: “How far will we go? I don’t want to go as far as last time.”

Daughter: “Can we bring snacks?”

This lukewarm reception should have served as a warning. But we ignored whatever alarm bells were going off in our collective parenting brain and spent what felt like five to six hours getting out the bikes, filling up tires, getting on the proper attire, gathering helmets, stuffing the 4 bikes into our minivan and yes, packing snacks. Exhausted already, but undaunted in our quest to for Fun, we headed out. Here is a transcript from the beginning of our Fun ride:

Mom& Dad: “Ready, guys?”

Daughter: “It’s freezing out here.”

Son: “It looks like it’s going to rain.”

Daughter: “What will happen to the snacks if it rains?”

Son: “I don’t want to get wet.”

Mom&Dad: “A little rain never hurt anyone. It’ll be an adventure.”

Son: “I don’t want an adventure.”

Daughter: “I don’t want to eat wet snacks.”

Son: “My bike seat is too hard.”

Daughter: “My helmet itches my chin.”

Mom&Dad: “Quit your whining. This is supposed to be FUN!”

Son: “Yeah – real fun.”

Daughter: “It isn’t fun when you yell…”

Dedicated-to-Fun parents that we are, we went ahead and took our Family Fun bike ride anyway, despite the fact that no one seemed to want to – not even us by that point. Here are some of the highlights from the event itself:

  • We went a total of 7 miles in an hour and a half (that felt like four).
  • We stopped eight times for water.
  • We stopped six times for snacks.
  • My son cried on four separate occasions. (We were going to fast; we were going too slow; his little sister passed him, he got rained on.)
  • We stopped three times to adjust my daughter’s helmet, that incidentally never stopped feeling itchy.
  • We stopped to look at a snake, gently prod him with a stick, and take his picture to identify what kind he was later.
  • We got yelled at by a passing biker for blocking the trail while we looked at the snake.
  • My husband snapped at me for being too negative.
  • I snapped at my husband for being too cheerful.
  • The leg of my yoga pants got caught in the gears on my bike, tearing my pants and causing me to fall –inexplicably in slow motion – off my bike.

In keeping with my theory, only one of the ten things that happened on the bike ride was actually fun. (And FYI -it wasn’t me falling off my bike.) Finding the snake was for sure the highlight of the whole experience – and was in fact, the turning point of our afternoon. We were all mysteriously buoyed by finding that snake and the ride back (we were on our return by that point) was pleasant – or at least not as miserable as the ride out had been.

I said to my husband, as I did the Sunday before when we went on a family run/walk, “Why do we keep doing things like this? No one likes this. This isn’t fun.” He agreed, as he does every week. But we both know that at some point between last Sunday and next Sunday, the memories of the Bike Ride From Hell, will be magically transformed into The Time We Found That Snake and we will all look back on the experience with fond, if distorted, memories as we set out on our next quest for Family Fun.

 

 

 


When Good Words Go Bad.

Please, or more accurately, “peas,” was one of the first words both my children learned to say. I remember being at Sam’s Club one day picking up a case of diapers and a 20lb tub of mayo (as one does when at Sam’s Club), when my little sweet thirteen month old boy pointed at the white-haired lady grilling up samples of TastyMex Chipotle Burrito Rolls and said in his little baby voice, “Peas?” The white-haired lady smiled, clearly impressed, and gave me an approving nod. “What a polite little gentleman you have there!” she said. It was, and continues to be, my crowning achievement as a mother.

Ten years later, I’m happy to report that my children continue to use the word please on a regular basis. Most of the time, this is a good thing. But sometimes it is not.  Sometimes this otherwise wonderful word can go rogue. And when it does, it usually means someone is getting “a consequence” and someone else is getting a headache.

Thank You, Please’s alter-ego, also suffers from this tendency to stray from the straight and narrow. In the overwhelming majority of the time, it is a lovely expression of gratitude. But there are times when Thank You, along with Please, throw on their black leather jackets, pile on the heavy eyeliner, spike up their hair and strut around throwing themselves in everyone’s face. The effect can be a little unsettling the first time you hear your child employ one of these rebel words. But, fear not. I have translated the insurgent Please and Thank Yous most often abused by kids and outlined their definitions and common usages below. Use it well.

  • Please: The traditional usage. Otherwise known as “the magic word.” Straight forward. Nice, polite, always appreciated.
  • Pleeease?: Often used when a parent is wavering on the fence of some major decision like allowing a sleepover or abandoning the leftover meatloaf for a trip to Pizza Planet. Not an out-and-out whine, but heading that direction. Frequently accompanied by jumping up and down, big, cheesy grins, and gratuitous showers of affection should the request be granted.
  • Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease: This is the sinking-ship of please’s. An odious, whining sound, and almost always a last-ditch effort on the part of the child to extort candy, a toy in the check out lane, or a third cookie. This please is often repeated, increasing in duration and frequency, until the user is led away (often kicking and screaming) from whatever captivating object has evoked its usage. Appears often with tears, stomping of the feet, and the instantaneous conversion to “boneless.”
  •  PLEASE!!!: This is when the meaning changes from a politely asked question to menacing statement implying, “Do it or else.” This is the bully of please’s. The aggressive please. The threatening please. Rarely should a request be granted if accompanied by this please.
  • Please. (Note: this please is used in conjunction with an eye roll and/or a “talk to the hand” gesture.): This is insolence, plain and simple. This one word phrase comes into play usually in late tween-hood, or the early teenage years, and continues to be a staple word for years to come. It can mean anything from, “Are you kidding me?” to “I wouldn’t be caught dead in last year’s jeans.” It is best to squash usage of this word as soon as it begins, as it tends to grow in a vocabulary like a sarcastic little weed, strangling the life out of the other more vibrant and agreeable pleases.

THANK YOU 

  • Thank you: Traditional usage is polite, multi-purpose, often replaced with the less formal version, ‘Thanks.’ Cannot be overused by the young; always well-received.
  • Thank you?: Asked rather than declared. This is the thank you of the shy and self-conscious young child. Usually said without looking the person in the eye and shifting nervously from foot to foot. Still acceptable, but only for ages 3 – 6.
  • THANK you: Bordering on surly. Largely used after a child has been reminded that they haven’t yet properly conveyed their gratitude. Also used when what the child really wants to say is that they are not at all appreciative and wish you would just leave them alone. In my house, this thank you is always sent away – often to its room – until another, more polite thank you can make an appearance.
  • Thankyouverymuch.: This is the aging spinster aunt, the miserly neighbor, the bitter lunch lady of thank yous. Always sarcastic. Often used by the cynical, the resentful, and those who are just about to be grounded. Oh, and Elvis. But he was an exception. He made it work.

Why Coffee is the Vampire of Hot Drinks.

I have a bit of a love-hate thing going on with coffee. On an unrelated note, I also have a bit of a love-hate thing going on with vampires. But as nothing is completely unrelated when you are searching for a topic about which to write, I allowed these two seemingly random facts to commingle in my thoughts and came up with what I am certain is a fairly brilliant conclusion (or at least more brilliant than my alternative topic of: What I Ate For Lunch Today). And that conclusion is that coffee is the vampire of hot drinks.

To help you understand my shiny new hypothesis, let me first explain my feelings on both the subjects in question. My love-hate for coffee is fairly straight-forward: Love the smell, hate the taste. The only kind of coffee I can stomach is one to which obscene amounts of chocolate and/or milk & sugar have been added, giving it the taste of coffee ice cream. Which, incidentally, I think delivers much more accurately on the promises made by its smell.

As for my love-hate with vampires, well, on that score, I defer to the immortal words of Joan Jett: I hate myself for loving them. Disclaimer: As will become painfully obvious in the paragraphs to follow, almost everything I know about vampires I learned from reading Twilight and Charlaine Harris’s Sookie books.

Here is my rationale for why coffee and vampires are kindred spirits of the night.

Coffee and Vampires Both…

1.    Are Masters of Seduction.

Vampires take the form of ultra-beautiful, witty, sexy, and charming creatures- all to entice and draw their prey near. But they have nothing on coffee when it comes to seduction. The smell of freshly brewed coffee is intoxicating in its own right. It is at once strong and sweet, swarthy and verdant, rich and luscious.  Now, I hate the taste of coffee like poison, but that smell gets me every time. I always think that this time it’s gonna be different -better – this time the taste will match that heavenly smell. I pour myself a cup, like a moth to a flame, only to be bitten by the nasty dark liquid within. It’s a cruel, soul-sucking letdown. And who else delivers cruel, soul-sucking punishments? Yep. You guessed it. Vampires.

2.    Have Serious Bite.

I know that some of you reading this will disagree, but for me taking a sip of black coffee is like having my tongue scrapped with a metal instrument dipped in a combination of rubbing alcohol and pure vanilla extract. Bitter in the extreme. And while I can’t be 100% certain, I truly believe that being bitten by a vampire would be a more pleasant experience. At least Sookie seems to enjoy it.

3.    Have Celebrity Status.

Coffee and vampires have been around forever, but only relatively recently have both been elevated to legendary pop culture status. These days, you can’t swing a dead cat without hitting a designer coffee shop or a vampire book/movie/tv show/dvd/poster/t-shirt/anything-else-that-can-be-screen-printed-with-Robert-Pattinson’s-face-on-it.

4.    Seek Metamorphosis.

Both coffee and vampires strive to make converts out of their victims. Vampires feed off people’s life-force in order to add them to their blood-thirsty ranks. Coffee companies have a similar goal. Read the above sentence again, replacing ‘Vampires’ with ‘coffee companies,’ ‘life-force’ with ‘hard-earned money,’ and  ‘blood’ with ‘macchiato.’ I think you will see the undeniable symmetry.

5.    Keep You Up All Night.

Self-explanatory. (And don’t try to talk to me about decaf. I’m pretty sure “decaf” is a sham. I’ve always secretly believed that the word decaffeinated must be an anagram in some ancient language for “See you at 3am, sucker.”)

6.    Leave You Feeling Drained.

While I’ve never personally been sucked dry by an unholy creature of the night, I can only imagine the feeling is similar to what I feel like about two and a half hours post venti mocha latte: Drained, tired, irritable… and much to my dismay, hungry for more.


Family Game Night: A Survival Guide

Everyone talks about wanting more family time. But, let’s be honest -not all family time is created equal.  Just like sushi in the Midwest, family time can be surprisingly good or monumentally bad.

For example…

  • Good family time: An hour spent taking the kids out for ice cream on a warm summer’s night.
  • Bad family time: An hour spent stuck in traffic while your four-year old plays a marathon game of “I’m not touching you,” with her unwilling older brother.
  • Good family time: An afternoon strolling around the zoo looking at animals, eating over-priced snacks, and riding the carousel.
  • Bad family time: An evening in the ER explaining to your children why throwing a belt over a ceiling fan, does not make it “just like the carousel at the zoo.”

But there is one family activity that usually falls firmly into Good Family Time territory and that is having a family game night. It’s easy, it’s cheap, and it’s not likely to end you in the ER.

Just follow the principal: If you plan it, they will come. Set a date, pick a game, and play. It’s pretty simple.

But sometimes, it isn’t.

Those of us who have children of an age where the art of sportsmanship is still being developed, know of whence I speak. For this segment of the population, I offer a few tips that may help avoid some potential family game night pitfalls.

Cheating will probably be an issue.

Look, I don’t know you and I don’t know your kids. Maybe your kids would never in a million years even consider withholding their 4’s in Go Fish or pretending they didn’t ‘understand’ what the Community Chest card said. But there are some kids out there who will. I’m not here to judge. But it’s best to decide beforehand what your policy on cheating is so that when it happens you are prepared to deal with it in such a way as not to ruin the entire evening.

And it isn’t just kids who cheat. We adults often bend the rules while playing games with our kids – not usually to win, but to either allow the kids to win or to make the game shorter. This is understandable given that a well-played game of Chutes and Ladders can last longer than a round of golf. Just be aware that if you decide to move your red plastic gingerbread man ahead a few paces down the candy trail, you may get caught. So have you’re answer ready for this one too.

If you insist on following the rules, you may have a nervous breakdown.

Children, especially those under the age of seven, don’t like to follow the rules. They forget. They misunderstand. They simply do not care. This is a battle you can choose to fight or you can wave your white flag and let them make up some creative rules of their own. You may even find a way to make the game more fun – or perhaps if nothing else, shorter.

Someone at the table will have a meltdown if they don’t win.

Try not to overreact. My blood pressure goes up when my son cries after losing at Sorry because I’m picturing the twenty-year old version of him doing the same after a game of intramural soccer (thus signifying my complete failure as a parent). Better to stay calm and use the opportunity to teach your kid that all games have a winner and loser. Painful, though it may be, sooner or later we all have to learn that lesson.

My advice is to let them have their little tantrum, but when it’s over, make them shake hands and say “good game.” This accomplishes two important goals: It helps build your child’s character; and it allows you to spend the rest of the evening feeling smug and self-righteous as you mentally check-off “Teach life lesson” from your day’s to-do list.

You will want to win.

Traditionally, this scenario presents itself as your kids get older (after all, there is no glory in beating your five-year old at Memory).  But there may come a day when you are playing Monopoly with your darling son or daughter and you will enjoy, a little too much, watching them go bankrupt as they land on Boardwalk with your three hotels. It may be ugly, but it’s true.  Yesterday, I won a game of Apples to Apples we were playing as a family. I’ll admit – I wanted that ‘W.” I worked for it. I deserved it.  And when it was over, I may have forced them to call me The Apple Queen. (But only for like 15 minutes.)

Monkey see; Monkey say, “Too bad, so sad – I sank your battleship!”

I am referring here to trash talk. I realize that not everybody feels compelled to taunt their child during a game of Connect Four, but my husband certainly does and I’m here to tell you – it’s catching. My husband has always engaged our kids in good-natured, G-rated trash talk during games and as a result, whenever one of my kids beats me in anything from checkers to the bathroom first, they instinctively look at me and say, ‘Wa-wa-waaaaaaaa.” I’m not gonna lie – it stings a bit. So be prepared: if you start with the trash-talk, your child will be rubber and you will be glue and anything you say will bounce off him and stick to you.

You will have more fun than you think you will.

I can practically promise you that. Sitting around a table playing a board game with your family is almost retro in its simplicity, but therein lies its beauty. It is good, simple, inexpensive fun that not only holds possibilities for teaching your kids life lessons, but it also brings the family closer in ways you might not expect. So silence your cell phone, turn off the TV, shut down the computer, and plan an old-fashioned family game night. There will be lots of laughter, there may even be a few tears – but the best part is that if you’ve done it right, there will most certainly be a re-match.


Freshly Stressed

I’m sure it is indicative of a deep and multifaceted neurosis that the minute some unexpected bit of good fortune befalls me (like getting my second-ever blog post featured on Freshly Pressed yesterday), my immediate reaction is to stress out.  But there it is. And here I am: stressed.

Here’s a sampling of why such a happy event is causing me worry:

  • Perhaps I have no knowledge of some very important blog-etiquette and have therefore alienated all the nice people who read, liked, commented, or subscribed to my blog by inadvertently doing or not doing something.
  • Perhaps I will never again write anything worth reading and that everyone who subscribed to my blog will delete me (with extreme prejudice), tell all of their friends how they’ve been duped, and somehow find a way to have me blacklisted from the internet forever.
  • Perhaps I will die, mid-post, and as I fall lifelessly onto my keyboard, I will accidentally hit the Publish button, leaving my last legacy of written words something like, “I’m stressaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.”
  • Perhaps those of you who took the time to view my post- not to mention those who made comments – will never know just exactly how much I appreciate the boost of support.
  • Perhaps I am not enjoying this enough.
  • Perhaps I am enjoying this too much.
  • What am I going to make for dinner tonight? (This is an everyday worry.)

I know this is not normal. I know I have serious issues to work out – not the least of which is dinner – and I know that confessing my worries won’t make them go away. But I’m hoping, at the very least, this post will convey my gratitude – leaving me one less thing to worry about.

Now… anyone have any suggestions on dinner?


Holding Court.

This is my blog.

It’s about ME.

I actually can’t believe I’m blogging. But… here I am, holding court.

I’ve been resisting creating a blog since I first learned what a blog was – which was about six months to a year after everyone else found out. I thought to myself then that I’d never heard of such a narcissistic form of expression in all my life. (This was before Twitter.)  It seems, however, that I was wrong and that blogs are not simply self-absorbed know-it-alls espousing their views solely for the gratification of their massive egos. Some are, of course. But many are informative, timely, well-researched, well-written, thoroughly considered, entertaining online resources. Not to mention, they are apparently a necessity for anyone who aspires to be (among other things) an author. Which brings us to why I’m here.

I am a writer. I write for a local magazine in Columbia, MO where I live – but I would like to expand my career, and I’m told in order to be taken seriously as a writer, you must have a blog. Check. But if you have a blog, you must also have something to blog about. On that score, I’m afraid, I am limited to the goings-on in my own circumscribed life as a wife, mother, writer, volunteer, sister, daughter,  and friend living in a small, midwestern college town. Riveting stuff – I know. But that’s all I got, folks. It is my hope that there will be some common thread, some kernel of universal truth that weaves its way between my experiences and your own, so this doesn’t end up becoming a glorified soap box – and I don’t end up becoming the very thing I was afraid of becoming. I promise to try to keep the pontificating, preaching, lecturing, and moralizing to a bare minimum. But I’ll admit that might be a bit difficult because this blog is, at its most basic, written by and about ME. Narcissism by any other name…