Saturday, March 19, 2022

Maple Syrup Festival

 


We went to the Maple Syrup Festival @Cunningham Falls State Park today. The weather was *gorgeous* and the crowds not horrifying. 



We started off on the "Storybook Trail" that talks about the process of making maple syrup. It goes around a loop and back towards the demonstration area. I think Jim and I were the only ones to read the whole story. I had the boys read a few pages, but mostly they were mostly like cats and wandered wherever. As we headed back towards the syrup demonstration area (with all the people), Rae asked to cross the stream down off the bridge. The water was cold, but if you didn't stay in it too long, you were not going to be hypothermic. Sure, I said. 



Off we go. 


We started to look for a place to cross the stream. Joe was very eager to participate and didn't want to be excluded. 




We all still had dry shoes at this point. It didn't last. Cay slipped on some algae and became the first inductee of the Wet Shoes Club. Joe and I soon followed, rounded out by Rae, who then decided that he didn't want to wear his shoes and continued on with only his socks. 



Joe got halfway across the stream and decided that he would rather throw rocks from his tiny little island. 


Lord Josephius Graffius carefully selecting stones for his island palace. 


Cay had wandered farther upstream than the rest of us and had officiated his own baptism into the Wet Bum Club. We cheered. He liked the full body, immersive experience, which he repeated frequently. 


(Cay up in the culvert; Rae with his arms in victory; Joe creeping along the side of the creek.)


We all made it up to the culvert and despite my concerns about fast moving water, only Joe slipped and only slightly, getting one hip wet. Another child of the creek went through the culvert at the same time as us and he got a thorough dunking, but we were on hand and helped fish him out. 

By this time, Jim had finished watching the maple syrup demonstration and wandered back to find us. 


He helped Joe cross the stream while I acted as paparazzi. "Could you do that just a bit more photogenically?" The only time I tripped and fell was while taking this series of pictures (yes, every picture I post here is part of a series; I have to take a half dozen of each shot) because a tree root had the audacity to be present while I was photograffing the wildlife. I am probably going to have a colorful bruise. 

So, Maple Syrup festival is probably pretty cool, but the stream and water were even cooler. 

And someone fell asleep on the way home: 


I got a sunburn; all of our shoes are drying in the garage; and we got to play in water. 

It was a good day. 

Just not really about maple syrup. 



Monday, January 17, 2022

Gingerbread Houses

Our Little Middle developed a fascination with gingerbread houses this year. We went to Five Below to shop for sibling Christmas presents and as we were about to leave, Little Middle planted his feet and refused to leave without a gingerbread house kit. 

Well. What was I to do? 

I put the kit back and pulled Little Middle bodily from the store. He was not happy. I was not happy. 

I related all of this to Jim, who then went out and bought a gingerbread house kit with Little Middle a few days later. 

Little Middle was thrilled with the gingerbread houses. He picked the smallest and plainest one for himself, assembled it, and dumped sprinkles all over it. 


I got home after construction was underway, so I missed out on all the candy and frosting in the kit. So I put on berries, Andes Mints, and sprinkles and constructed my house with peanut butter. Incidentally, peanut butter makes good construction glue.

Jim assembled his house and promptly left the construction zone... giving his house a very minimalist appearance. 


Raeford neatly constructed his house and fastidiously placed his candies in rainbow order. 


Caleb went at his house with all the enthusiasm of a pig in mud. He loves textures and got as least as much on him (and in him) as he did his house. 


Awhile later, Jim found another, witch-ier, gingerbread house---which we knew would be a big hit with the boys, again. [Rae helped photograph this one, so I am in a few of the pictures. La!] 


Also, because I *might* have bought a ridiculous amount of holiday sprinkles this year, we have had to find creative uses for them, like gingerbread houses. And sugar cookies. And fairy toast. 


This German gingerbread house (which tasted a whole lot better, fwiw) had a witch, a bat, Hansel, and Gretel all posing in front of the witch's house with a Christmas tree. However, unlike the fairy tale, Hansel and Gretel didn't escape the witch, absconding with her food and treasures. 

This year we ate them. 


And they were delicious. 

 

Monday, December 27, 2021

Tampon Tales

To understand the rest of this post, you need context.

So, let me begin at the beginning. I grew up in a very conservative home with very conservative parents and attended a very conservative religious university. As a child I was not allowed to watch The Simpsons---too crass, or Captain Planet---too environmentalist-wacko. My parents opted me out of sex ed in elementary school, but didn't teach me themselves. I remember asking my dad what "well-endowed" meant, watching him become very awkward and gesture with cupping hands at his chest. I was highly embarrassed and learned at that tender age to not ask my parents about anything even remotely sex-adjacent again. 

This didn't stop me from reading Jean Auel's Earth's Children series (which includes rape and sex scenes) in middle school, or from trying to understand my body; I just had fewer resources and many, many roadblocks.

I didn't reach menarche until I was fifteen and a half---rather late for a child. My mom had explained the basics to me when I was ten years old with a Childcraft encyclopedia, but that explanation left far more questions than answers and I didn't know how to ask questions. By the time I was fifteen and a half, there was no discussion of menstruation in my house---there was hardly any discussion about anything, ever---so I was left to reading information on and in tampon boxes as an entrance to womanhood. 

I will mention here that tampon boxes could do a better job explaining how to use their products. I was playing water polo when I reached menarche, and thus needed to use tampons so I could play during my period. The first time I used one, I left the cardboard applicator inside myself overnight because the directions were too vague. I eventually figured it out, but it took me awhile and would have been much better for me if I could have just asked someone. 

One of the things that drew me to Jim, early on, was that Jim never seems to be embarrassed to ask a question when he doesn't know the answer. I really admire frankness in others, and I aspire that kind of open transparency in my own life. I feel that if my child is bold enough to ask a question, I can be brave enough to answer it honestly. 

So, now that you have some background, let me take you to my first semester freshman year (at my very conservative universtiy) early morning Anatomy and Physiology lab class. The light is barely coming in through the basement windows; the walls are tiled, the room echo-y; it is cold, and everyone is half-awake; except for my TA who exudes alertness and enthusiasm. He strides confidently into the middle of the lab; everyone (mostly female nursing students) sits on stools circling him. 

"This is a penis," he says, cupping his hand and holding up a brown chunk of cadaver soaked in 
formaldehyde. 

"Repeat after me: penis." 

"...penis..." my horrified/awe-struck classmates latently whisper. There are nervous isolated giggles. Remember, most of these people have not ever said "penis" out loud. 

"Penis," he says louder. 

"penis," we quietly repeat. 

"I can't hear you," he cups his other hand, the one not containing shriveled cadaver junk, next to his ear and yells, "PENIS!"  

"Penis," we say. 

The TA repeats continues his call and repeat sequence until the whole class enthusiastically shouts names of various genitalia. For a crowd of extremely conservative co-eds, this was *radical*.

And I could not have loved it more. 

Anatomy & Physiology was my favorite class of my entire college experience. It's a bummer that I took it my very first semester because---honestly---nearly everything after that was a let-down (except for Women's Health Issues my senior year). It's been seventeen years since that class, and I still love to study anatomy. I love the body and how it is so absolutely weird and wonderful, and I have extremely few scruples when discussing bodies and various bodily functions. 

This comes in handy in my day-to-day life. 

One morning, Rae runs to me aghast and indignant, sputtering and fuming with too many feelings of injustice. It was rather early for so many feelings from such a small person. I barely had both eyes open. 

"MOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMmmmmmmm," he wails. 

I really was not awake enough for this. 

Not waiting for a response, he launches into his complaint. 

"YOU. HAD. ICE. CREAM. WITHOUT ME!" 

At this point, I am rather baffled. One, my eyes are blinking, trying to lubricate themselves and get ready for sunshine; two, I feel like donating my uterus to science (again) because menstruation; and three, my brain can't register the words Rae is saying. 

"What ice cream?" I ask. 

Rae rushes to the trash can, grabs the offending pint, and stomps back to me. 

My brain fog is clearing, and I glimpse the pink container. 




I can't help it---I laugh when I recognize the pint of not-ice-cream. 



I explain that is a tampon box and because we have regular discussions about menstruation and bodies; Rae immediately grasps the situation and his anger deflates. 

He and I would both rather have had ice cream. 

~~~~~~

Recently, a friend recommended organic cotton tampons, so I tried them. Turns out, I like them a lot. If you have to stick something there, it might as well be organic. Everything else is. 

Menstruation happens regularly (one would hope 🤞🤞). Jim, bless him, lacks any embarrassment picking up sanitary supplies for me when he goes shopping. Because the feminine hygiene aisle is dauntingly complex, Jim asks for specific instructions, which I appreciate. 

Recently, the instructions have been:
-get [this brand],
-definitely do not under any circumstances get [that brand],
-and if [this brand] is unavailable, just find one that says organic cotton. 

Jim is adept at following instructions. He came home with organic tampons that worked just fine. Yay. 

Because I am still that person, I read the tampon box and all the pamphlet information---almost every time, and definitely when switching brands. I am not entirely sure why, but I haven't outgrown the habit. Perhaps I read it so I can remind myself of all the symptoms of Toxic Shock Syndrome. 

However, TSS was not the most interesting part of this box. 

This was:




 So, of course I *had* to read it to Jim. 

"Huh," he says, "...ghosts told me to stick herbs up there is their marketing strategy." 

My humans-without-vaginas make me laugh. 


Wednesday, December 15, 2021

Keeper of the Zoo





 Of my kids, Caleb is most similar in temperament to me. He cannot sit still long enough to watch a movie; he doesn't like to sit still to eat, and he is endlessly organizing his brothers to do things with him.  

Like random face painting after school. 

Joe wanted a heart, and then he wanted gold glitter on his heart, so we got craft-herpes everywhere. Caleb wanted to appropriately dispose of the glitter (yay), so I told him to shake it out at the garbage can. I neglected to tell him to take the lid off the garbage can first



Based on the first picture, you'd conclude that Cay was putting on rouge. Not so. I didn't really get a good picture of the final face paint job, but this is close-ish: 



He told me that the black above his eyebrows was to make him look fierce, like a warrior. The blue on his chin reminds me of Mel Gibson in Braveheart. Cay also told me that he was going to wear his face paint to school the next day to show his friends. Nope. Not happening. It took six attempts, but he finally washed all of it off his face before bedtime. 

I've been volunteering at the school. Right now, I am mostly working with Rae's class (making copies and doing math facts), but I've started helping out in Caleb's class, too. 

One of the small people in Cay's class told me that I look like a zookeeper. 

I laughed. 

Why, yes, I am the keeper of the zoo. 

Friday, December 3, 2021

Dear Goodness, What Happened to November?

 

November is a historically difficult month for me. My body shuts down and tries not to feel anything until mid-January-ish. Which is disappointing because I wind up missing out on three holidays and two kid birthdays. Like I just can't muster up the enthusiasm. 

I think that I *finally* acknowledged that this-is-a-thing for me last year. I think acknowledging that there is a problem is probably the best first step to doing anything about it. Even if that first step is just saying, "Hey, there's a problem." I think talking about it helps, too. I think medication definitely helps. 

[Sidebar: Can we talk about how hard it is for people with mental health issues to reach out and get help? First, I have to be able to acknowledge that there is an issue; second, I have to know what the resources are; third, those resources have to be actually helpful. Any misstep along the way derails my ability to get help for myself.] 

Speaking of medication, mine had a hiccup. The script was not written correctly, and I ran out. So, I went from maintaining somewhat normalcy to sobbing on the phone to a stranger trying to figure out the logistics of getting my prescription refilled. It was overwhelming. I know logically that I just need to keep pressing forward to figure out a solution, but I just didn't have the spoons to do it---which left me frustrated and sobbing to strangers. 

So---instead of pressing forward for a solution--- I just waited it out. Fortunately my prescription refilled yesterday and I got my first good night's rest in awhile; hence, I have enough spoons to blog. I really enjoy blogging, but it is very hard to do when my brain feels like it is circling the drain. 

This morning, Rae saw the pharmacy bag for my prescription medication on top of the garbage. 

"What's that?" he asked 

"It's medicine to make my brain feel better."

"How does it do that?" 

"My body doesn't make enough neurotransmitters, so this medicine keeps the ones it does make in circulation longer." 

"Why is that important?" 

"Without those neurotransmitters, I tend to sleep too much, cry, and be easily irritable. I lose interest in things I enjoy, stuff like that. I need my brain to function well, so I can feel good enough to function." 

"That makes sense." 

I have this bizarre, boot-strapping desire to make myself function well---no excuses! Like, it is a moral failing if I can't make myself be better. I've come to realize, it is not a moral failing. It is just what it is. I got a set of conditions and circumstances that I manage, and those conditions/circumstances don't inform my character. It is rather a relief to separate who I am from what I deal with. 


So, November, here are my birthday boys: 



Joe got a mommy dog with a zipper pouch on her belly and four puppies inside, among other things. Wouldn't that be easier? #zipperpouchenvy

Cay got geodes which he smashed with a hammer and a foam stomp rocket (I highly recommend this one, but when the pieces need to be glued together, don't use super glue. It doesn't work, and I wound up gluing my fingers together. Use a hot glue gun, instead. #lessonlearned) 



I don't have pictures from Thanksgiving, on account of my body surrendering to two four-hour-long daytime naps because 1. booster shot; 2. Aunt Flo; and 3. lack of brain medication. The collision of those three things together was like Dante's ninth circle. Fortunately, Caleb also napped with me for my second nap. 

Speaking of my booster shot, the boys got their first dose! We went to the county health department, and there was a news crew who asked to film/photograph my three kids getting their shots (I have no idea if that actually made it to the papers), and I said, sure! It'll be a circus. 

I was right; it was a circus. 🎪 🎪 🎪

Cay went first and was arrogantly stoic about the whole thing, telling his bigger brothers, "
I did it; it was soooo easy." 

Joe was inelegantly sandwiched between me and Jim, squirmed like a caught fish, more or less subdued, and quickly shot by an expert. He howled indignantly for ten seconds then promptly forgot about it when handed a sticker.

Rae, dear Lord, bless his heart. He was all kinds of panicked about getting his shot, even after watching both his brothers (maybe especially after watching his brothers). I don't want to know what the health department workers or the news crew filming us thought of my parenting after listening to me word-grapple with Rae, which ended abruptly when I promised to sit on him with cold-hearted sincerity and a three second countdown. 

I honestly thought that Joe and Cay would more difficult. Nope! Not this time, anyway. 


When we got outside, the railing had round, colored stickers that the health department used to quickly identify who needed what, where. Apparently, everyone took off their stickers after walking out the door and decorated the rails, the signs, and the lamp post nearby. It was actually quite cute, so I needed a picture. 

As for post-shot reactions: Rae's arm was warm and sore; Joe seemed to have no reaction; Cay needed very long naps.



Since Cay never slows down, we were quite thrilled with this side effect.

Goodbye November. Onward, December, ho! 

Wednesday, October 27, 2021

Carpenter bees and Ceilings


Projects, projects, projects. 

Okay, it's just two projects. One, smooth (and paint) the dining room ceiling; and two, stain the deck. I set an arbitrary deadline of end of October, but the more involved I get in these projects, the less likely it seems that I will finish them in ... the next four days. 

Several months ago, when I was full of ambition and infallibility, I removed the texture from the dining room ceiling. As my kids were extra fond of telling me---and anyone else they talked to---, "Mom, it looks WORSE now than it did before."

Harsh.
 
Also, true.
 
And, it was a ginormous pain in the ass. I wet the ceiling with a pump sprayer thingy and scraped off the texture with a putty knife. It took *forever*. YouTube made it look so much easier.


Hubris, thy name is Icie. 

I started to patch the ceiling with mud. Mudding also made the project look decidedly worse, and I left it again for several weeks while I thought on it. 

Eventually, I went back and finished the first coat of mud; let it dry, then sanded the ceiling. It wasn't perfect, but it was significantly better. So, I put on another coat of mud---just for the spots that needed it; let it dry; sanded it again. Third time was the charm and I've finished smoothing out the ceiling with mud, letting it dry, and sanding. 

Sanding was the worst! I was covered in dust and it took hours for the dust to fully settle around the house so I could then clean every surface in the house. If I ever get a wild hare to do this again, I will seal off the room and restrict the sanding dust to ONE PLACE. 


I think the hard part of projects is all the ugly not-yet-finished stages where you can't quite visualize how this horrible mess you are making is going to actually turn out okay. 

But, I've needed to put a pin in the ceiling project (again), while I hurry to get the deck stained before it gets too cold. You see, there are carpenter bees and they are inactive in the fall, so I have to get it done now, as my previous strategy involves murder.

The best way to protect against carpenter bees eating your deck is to stain it...or, the second best way is to kill the bees with a tennis racket. We may have bought a tennis racket for the express purpose of killing carpenter bees (which I may keep in my kitchen). I may have killed 87 bees two summers ago; 50-something the previous summer; and a few dozen this summer. I may have kept a hash mark tally next to the sliding door to the deck. May have, hypothetically. But, the guilt catches up to you, you know? So carpenter bee abatement strategies needed something more refined than vigilantism. 

Before I can stain the deck, I need to clean it. Today was my third day of pressure washing the deck, and it is mostly done. You know, ...*twelve hours* of pressure washing later, it is only mostly done. I had no idea it would take that long. Also, there is a learning curve for using a pressure washer. [Use a wide spray, go along the wood grain, and get close-ish to the surface---you're welcome.] Also, I did not chop off my fingers when I accidentally shot a line across my hand. Go me. 
 
I am well on my way with both projects, but there is still so much more to do. It's weird to write a post where I am still in-process. No cool before-and-after pictures.

Weird, but fitting. 



Meanwhile, a cute picture of Joe and me snuggling in my hammock chair yesterday: 
































Wednesday, October 6, 2021

It's OCTOBER, witches!

 



Jim called this my low-key goth outfit. Black shirt, leggings, sandals, and a Dia De Los Muertos mask. I use to really hate the idea of wearing skulls on anything, and I am largely still that way, but for some reason... I am really drawn to DDLM. It's bright and happy. 

Megan sent me her mask pattern, and I have to say... making masks has become a sickness: 



Rae and Cay both picked out fabrics this last weekend and we sewed up new masks for themselves, which they wore to school this week already. Cay might have burned his fingers; Rae might have tried to tell me what the pattern *actually* said, multiple times. 🙄 Rae-splaining.🤦🏻‍♀️ Rae's mask was pink and blue; Cay's mask had rockets and polka dots. [neither are pictured 👆🏼]

The other big news is... we applied for passports!!! The current wait time is 12 weeks or so, and although everyone asks, I have no idea where we really want to travel to outside the United States. Other than Iceland. I've had a longtime fascination with Iceland. 

Where do the kids want to go? 

Rae: New York City

Cay: China

Joe: the moon

We did all five passports at the same time, and for a hot minute I really debated whether or not it was worth it because corralling everyone was making me super anxious. Then I started wondering what corralling everyone in a foreign country would look like and my heart rate sped up and I felt light-headed.

The post office was great, though. We got in and out in less than an hour and half, and it wasn't nearly as bad as it could've been. Ultimately, I know that we don't know how much time we get with the people we care about, and I want to make memories. I want stories and adventures. 

We're probably not going to the moon, though. 




Rae's passport photo makes me laugh! Jim's hair dyed his background a pale pink. The rest of us look alright. :) 




We went to the library park (we have a tendency to name our parks anything other than their actual name---the library park being in close-ish proximity to the library), and I tried to get an artsy photo of Joe on the merry-go-round and accidentally caught Cay flying off the side. 




I am totally in love with Rae's hair---it reminds me of Link from Legend of Zelda. I also like pictures of Rae helping Joe; it just reminds me of what a great big brother Rae is becoming. I am so, so proud of him. 



We have a dry erase calendar that I update each month. This month I wrote, "It's OCTOBER, witches!" at the top. Caleb asked me why I wrote it, and I gave a sanitized answer: because Halloween is in October and witches are part of Halloween! I didn't realize that Jim had heard my explanation until he laughed at me. "You know... they might repeat that at school..." 😳

Sorry....but not really sorry. 

Because... it's OCTOBER, witches!!! 🧙‍♀️

Maple Syrup Festival

  We went to the Maple Syrup Festival @Cunningham Falls State Park today. The weather was *gorgeous* and the crowds not horrifying.  We star...