Manly Camping (warning- this post contains gross photos)

Now that all our imported teens have left the nest, it's time to start raising our own. That's right, my oldest son is now thirteen! To celebrate, he got a tent, a hatchet, and a bunch of other camping gear. And a camping trip with dad.
They took off to some beautiful but rugged land about an hour away known for it's massive waterfalls. And steep slidey trails, and cliffs, and rattlesnakes. They had a ball hiking, swimming and fishing. To get down to the bottom of the falls, they took a trail about 18 inches wide with loose rocks that tilted down off a cliff. See those little ledges? That's the trail. So yeah, they were on this trail with a cliff on one side, and certain death on the other. The memory of it still makes my husband shudder. As he tells me about it, I fluff up like an angry hen. "Do you remember how hard I worked to GET him here?! It's a good thing we PRAYED for your SAFETY while you were gone!!" Well, he's learned his lesson, I can be sure of that. When he got home, he had what looked like a scrape the size of a nickel on his shin. It was curiously black. And his leg itched. By the next day he was itching like mad and blisters were popping up and oozing all over. Yep, it was poison oak. He was a regular ooze factory. Then it got worse. He worked all week on these legs, then on Friday finally gave in and went to urgent care. He got a steroid shot in the rear, antibiotics and some more steroids. They'd never seen anything like his nasty, oozing festering legs. It was like Christmas in July, nurses were knocking on the door for a peek and asking if they could help wrap him up (it helps that he's cute). They kicked themselves for not taking pictures before they got him all bandaged up. He was that much of a curiosity there. He's very slowly recovering now. I think he's learned his lesson.

34 Years

That's right folks, thirtyfour years ago my completely unmedicated mom (she hates needles) pushed out her second daughter. This new baby entered life as a porky affair with coal-black hair parted neatly down the middle. She had a blue line on the bridge of her nose shaped exactly like the number four. (If you look closely enough to this day, you can still see it.) Her mom brought her to the home of her grandparents (the house next door to me now), where they were living while her newly-graduated father awaited orders for his first assignment in the Air Force.

This little fire cracker learned to talk in the deep south, and said goodbye and "Bah, bah!" Crayons were "crowns". She was home schooled for part of kindergarten because the schools there worked on a lottery system and it wasn't her (un)lucky day. She craved adult conversation and had her own visiting teaching route at the age of four. She would ring the door bell, enter, sit on the couch and ask, "So, how are you feeling? How are your children?".

She had an overwhelming thirst to learn. She used to sit in her little rocking chair poring over Mormon Doctrine willing the characters to make sense. She moved and moved until she was in North Dakota and lived a block from school. She was chronically late. She was also chronically in trouble. Her mom had to escort her home one day for bringing her hamster to school in her bag. She was a sassy little thing that thought she knew everything. Her father was called upon to sit with her in Sunday school more than once.

She grew and grew and by the seventh grade looked exactly as she does now. She was more boy crazy than should be allowed by law. She lived on an historic military base and was only kept from trouble by her excessively tender conscience. She lost her sister at the age of twelve and it changed her life. She moved again and learned a lot from loneliness. She settled in and learned that to make friends, you just need to look around you to see that people are as lonely as you are.

After graduating, she went off to school and had to find out who she really was, and what she was worth. She came home and fell in love with a handsome prince that convinced her she was worth even more than that. They got married and then she was pregnant for the rest of her natural life. This sent her so far 'round the twist that she's never came back and doesn't regret it for a second. She says it's way more fun 'round the twist. Those 34 years have had a lot of living, and that's definitely worth celebrating!

Gender Bending

I was putting on my makeup, and thought I'd scare up some fun. My 13 year-old was in the room, and I asked him if I could put some makeup on him. He didn't even dignify my request with a response. He just gave me 'the look'. The "there's no chance of that. Are you crazy, woman?" look. I called the middle boys in and asked them. "Sure!" they chirped, bouncing up and down.They enjoyed it a little too much.

When the younger one said "I wanna wear a bikini!" I decided it was time to put an end to all their fun.
I told them it was time to take it off, and they begged to be able to go prancing around the neighborhood first. We took some pictures and then we washed off what their oldest brother called the "desecration". They'll always have the memory though.

A Family Planning Conspiracy

I was in my backyard today, inspecting my garden and fruit trees. All the fuzzy fruit babies are coming right along. The apricots are starting to blush with color. After a lousy harvest last year, the grapes are plentiful. I suspect they have some kind of 'every other year' thing going on. The apples are getting heavy, and are worm-free this year! Wah-hoo! The blackberries are getting black.But all was not well in the garden. It was here that I discovered something shocking. A family planning conspiracy!!! Yes, you read that correctly. Do you remember in the news a few weeks ago, a story of a pregnancy pact a bunch of girls made in a high school back east? They all apparently decided to get pregnant and raise their kids together? Well, the same thing has happened in my garden, except in reverse.

That's right. These girls decided that the whole 'multiply and replentish the earth' thing didn't apply to them. I don't know if they wanted more time, maybe they didn't feel ready. Perhaps they didn't want to be burdened with fruit while they were still so young. Whatever the reason, eight tomato plants decided to abstain. I did everything I could to set the mood: manure, plenty of water, a little mulch here and there, to no effect.
Thank goodness this gal didn't get the memo in time. She let one lone tomato squeak by. Thankfully, the rest of their neighbors haven't been swayed by the tomato gang's dangerously radical example.
The zucchini family are really cranking them out.
The peppers are expecting twins!The eggplant family haven't announced anything yet, but I think I see a little swelling there, a little bloat. What do you guys think?
The Tomatillo's have been having a fiesta over their good news.I wasn't going to say anything, but Mrs. Spaghetti-Squash is getting bigger by the day! Do you think that's all baby?
Who knew my garden would supply so much juicy gossip?

106.8

That's how hot it's been over here. No, I'm not talking about the weather. I'm talking about the core temperature of this little guy.

On the 4th, he started to get a bit warm, and by Saturday he was doing the whole fever thing with gusto. When I felt his head, I knew this was no ordinary fever. He was pretty delirious with bright red patches on his neck and chest. When I saw the numbers on the thermometer, I couldn't believe it. I called the ER to find out if this was an ER problem or an urgent care one while my husband bathed him. The ER lady wasn't fussed at all, and told me to save money and go to urgent care. The Dr. there wasn't very worried either. "Can't find anything wrong with him but the (insanely high) fever," he shrugged. "Probably a virus." I sounded a bit shrill when I asked him about the danger of hearing loss and brain damage. "Nah, don't worry about that. Just keep him hydrated. He'll be fine in a couple of days." Huh?
Huh?
The couple of days passed and he was far from fine, he was only getting worse. Today I finally followed my instincts and took him straight to the ER. He was burning up, and no one there told me it was no big deal. They ran some simple tests and found a raging infection that was easily treatable with antibiotics. I felt so vindicated! He's already feeling better too.
Lesson for the day: If someone tells you it's no big deal, but your gut tells you it is, it is.

Ick, Ick Ick!

In this heat, I've been trying really hard to stay hydrated. I'll keep a giant glass of water on the counter so every time I walk by it's there waiting for me. This evening I walked by and took a swig. As I lifted the glass and the water filled my mouth, I noticed an object in the bottom. A round, walnut-shaped object. I really didn't want to know what it was, I just spit the water in the sink and found another glass with which to drown my thirst. I'd forgotten about the surprise in the glass until my husband walked out of the kitchen with a brown walnut-sized object between his fingers. What was it?






Are you sure you want to know?






I didn't. But now I do.

A LIVE freshwater clam one of my kids brought home from camping.

What are you laughing at?!

My six year old giggled and squinted up at me. "Your fat stomach."
"What? Fat stomach? Baby, this isn't fat, this is love. This is sacrifice! These stretch marks are proof of what I went through to get all you boys here!" He just rolled his eyes. Then I regaled him with stories of my six pack from bygone days. I could out-crunch my husband in a contest. He would crumple in defeat and I would quit when I was bored. I sure wish I'd taken pictures.
Sigh. Anyway, back to my story.

We were camping. In paradise. Isn't this strip of grass between asphalt beautiful? We'd had a traumatic 2 1/2 hour drive in search of a campsite in 106 degree heat. The tip we'd been given of a fantastic place to camp didn't pan out, so we'd wasted half a tank of gas and we were grouchy. So we tied the boys up high in a tree to protect them from predators, and turned in. Just kidding, this guy rigged himself a cool pulley system. After a rough night's sleep, we were anxious to salvage the trip. My husband proposed an adventure. "Put on your shoes, boys, we're taking off!" And he walked out into the bush. And cactus. I didn't know we even HAD cactus here. But we do. And rattlesnakes. This was their home we were walking through. I coped with my fear by serenading them, announcing my presence. "Oh, snakies, stay away from me!" I got the silly tune stuck in everybody's head. Nothing bit us though, so it works. We found our own private beach. The water was so shallow, you could walk out 100 feet and it would only be up to your knees! I watched all this, fully clothed. Sweat ran down my neck. The sun beat down on my head. I tried to roll up my jeans, but what I really wanted to do, was swim! Luckily, my husband had packed some swim trunks, and he graciously lent them to me. The boys were riding driftwood, trying to balance on it and screaming with laughter when they rolled in the water. My husband took driftwood and built a raft.

I watched as long as a could, then I'd had enough. I went to the bushes, stripped off my shirt and hit the water with just my bra on top. Only my oldest looked twice, with a little suppressed grin. No one else batted an eye. That is, until my little six year old came up close for some sun screen. Then he couldn't help but stare and the beauty that is my wrinkly white stomach.
I guess this trip will live on in his memory for a long, long time.