I fell in to a burnin’ ring o’ cake…

Yesterday was Ringo Starr’s birthday, as you no doubt surmised from all the fireworks, the bank holiday, and close-out prices at jewelry stores.

Julianna baked him a cake:

"birtday"? Apparently the Long Island accent skips a generation.

He didn’t show.  Apparently he and Elijah use the same DayPlanner.   So we ate it anyway–more for us!  She made it from scratch using my old 1956 Betty Crocker Picture cookbook.  “One Egg Marble Cake–for times when eggs are scarce!”  or for when the cake is in honor of cranky old men who won’t eat it anyway.

More Nature Mom forced marching

Okay kids, it’s cool enough that I don’t gripe every time I have to move farther than from the computer to the water pitcher–let’s go hiking!

Traditionally, we have hiked the Cliff Trail to the falls and then take the Low Trail back.  I just noticed in the Catoctin Mountain trail guide that the Cliff Trail is listed as difficult, and Lily’s been hiking it since she was 5, so I figure we can tackle ANYthing.  I keep in mind, however, that it’s also pretty short, and decide we’ll take the Falls Trail from the Catoctin Forest national Park visitor’s center to Cunningham Falls and back.  I love my plan b/c a) the Nat’l park is free, but if we start in the State Park it costs money.  b)I think this will bring us in at the top of the falls.

When we first moved to Frederick, Steve and I hiked to the Falls and we came out at the top.  I have not done so again.  When we come in at the bottom, there are all these signs asking us to stay out of the “fragile” area down there and on the boardwalk provided.  But who wants to do THAT?  there are big ol’ rocks and waterfalls.  So I end up feeling guilty (I know, as I should) and also shoving my kids up the big rocks by their butts.  This goes against my usual principal of “if you can’t’ get there yourself, you shouldn’t be there.” The converse, however, is not necessarily true (I’m looking at you, Hazel).  So we set off from the parking lot for our 3 mile hike.

It was a reasonably steep climb, filled with speculation about angles of ascent and why people carve beech trees.  Lily was kept moving with the promise of being able to stick her feet in the water at the falls.  She’d even brought along extra socks.  We reached the end of the climby part of the trail and crossed the highway to the path that leads to the falls.  A pause for a rebellious photo:

the Man can't tell US where to stop or stand!

And off down the boardwalk.  I realized quickly (’cause I’m smaht) that we were going to be at the bottom of the stupid falls again.  And shortly after I realized that we were going to be on an enclosed walk that wouldn’t even let us disobediently climb down onto the rocks.  Lily was…disappointed.  I cajoled/consoled/snarled her onto the path again to head back, assuring her that we could play in the stream at the trailhead.  Along the way, nature lessons!

“what kind of bug is that?”

“I don’t know, but soon there’ll be more of them.”

Lily started crabbing about sore ankles near the end, but otherwise made it just fine, encouraging me to try a slightly longer trail next time, if it involves a bit less steep climbing.  And, as promised, there was the stream:

and pretty mushrooms:

We were already in Thurmont, so we ate dinner at a local restaurant and went to play practice afterward.  And, as usual,  was far more tired than they.  Is there some sort of equilibrium at play?  Mom gets as tired as all kids combined?

Spray-on immunity?

So the bathroom in the church where the kids have play practice has this can:

In case you can’t quite make it out–shiny!–it says “Disinfects HIV-1 (AIDS virus), Polio virus Types 1 and 2,  Influenza A2/ Hong Kong Virus, Mycobacterium Tuberculosis (TB),  and Herpes Simplex 1 and 2…

Seems like sprayin’ folks down would be easier than all these vaccines…  And further, what kind of nasty-ass church IS this?  I was a little skeeved, frankly.

Oh, blessed respite

The neighbors are going camping!  For seven days!  That means seven days without my having to scream “Ben!  Tatiana!  Get AWAY from each other!”  Our neighbors are, ostensibly, childless, but they are certainly child friendly as there are usually anywhere from 2-6 children staying with them.  Tatiana and Fatima are over here frequently to play with Lily, but we also sometimes get Mark, Demoni (seriously?  you named a child Demoni?), Summer, and Shania.  This in addition to our usual load of Maeve, Fiona, Taro, and Haley (yes, that IS quite the UN register of names.  But the kids just fall into our two standard racial categories, nothing exciting at all).

In theory, I am in favor of great bands of children, roaming from one house to another, revelling in summer freedom.  In practice, I am in favor of quiet and–more importantly–peace.  And we do not get peace if Ben and Tatiana are in the same place.  Never have I seen more Oil and Water personalities.  Ben, we know, is sensitive to slights (real and imaginary) and prone to take offense.  Tatiana is a bit of a bossyboots and loooooves to get Ben’s goat.  Which, since he puts his goat out by the curb with a “Free Goat” sign around its neck, is not hard.  I have had the “You have GOT to learn to let it go” conversation about a gazillion times.  I have also had he “You have GOT to leave Ben alone” conversation with Miss T.  Yesterday, we had the “Okay, everyone but Ben and Lily–Thank you for coming, please go home, we’ll see you tomorrow” conversation.

I was all prepared to have a powwow today, to sit the two of them down together.  But now I don’t have to!  yay!  My favorite outcome.  For now.

Just drop it in my MOTY file

That’s Mother Of The Year, you know.  Took Ben in for his first well child visit in…3 or 4 years? and as the nurse took his BP, she said, “How long has he had this rash?”  This wha?  Child is COVERED in a lacey red rash.  huh.  Ben says “Oh, I’ve had it for ages.  About 2 weeks.”  Thank you son.  I smile and say “Once they pass the strutting around naked age, who knows what goes on with them?”  Because I also clearly never even look at him.  It’s a wonder I can even spot him in a crowd.  My brain unfreezes a bit and I say, “You can’t have had it 2 weeks, I just did a tick scan on you last weekend and you didn’t have it!” (bonus points for checking for ticks, and for actually looking at my child at least once a week)  And it’s then that I remember that he had a fever on Saturday, keeping him from the swim meet.  It went away by that night so I ignored it.  Fever + rash 3-4 days later= Fifth’s disease!  Woo!  I had it diagnosed before the NP even came in.  I rock.  At some things.  Oh, and for those without kids, or with kids too young to have had this several times, it’s this benign virus that usually just causes a low fever and a scary looking red rash.  Only contatious when you dont know they have it, so you can’t even get into trouble for spreading it.  Once the rash shows, they’re fine.

My gross cat brought a baby bunny, SCREAMING, into the house yesterday.  she then dropped it so that her stupid human kittens could learn to hunt by finishing it off.  Instead, I chased the rabbit outside (to die, as it was clearly wounded).  She despairs of us ever having meat.  Then later yesterday afternoon, Ben is sitting in the family room playing with a dollhouse I found in the basement (more later) and Lily walks into the room and says “Dead bunny,” totally flat, like “whose shoe is that?”  or  “there’s something on your face.”  I look and there’s this HUGE blood smear across the floor, right next to Ben, and a mangled bunny corpse (band name? nah) lying where the dollhouse was blocking his sight line.  We know that he does not handle the grisly well.  So I said, “Ben, look at me.  Now stand up and walk toward me, looking at me the whole time. Now leave the room.”  He said, after the crime scene had been tidied,  “Yeah I saw the blood and wondered what it was.”  Seems like a life skill one should have.  If there is a big blood smear, do not play there.  Maybe it needs a rhyme mneumonic: Pile of gore, play no more. or When blood is there, go elsewhere. Anyway, he was totally freaked out and wouldn’t go into the room and was generally being a loon.  I wanted to shout “DUDE, you were practically walking your Playmobil guys on top of it!  and now you can’t be in the same room where it once was?”   bonkers.

So the dollhouse.  Back when Julianna was 4 or so, I bought two rooms of the “Room-by-Room Dollhouse” from Discount School Supply’s clearance.  It looked cool and was full of little fiddly things, which I love.  Once it arrived, I remembered that my precious flower only played with chunky rough hewn wooden toys that refer to recognizeable objects, so as to not stunt her imagination.   So I packed the rooms into the basement for a later date or to give to inferior, stunted children, and sent Julianna off to play with her stump and thimble.  More children were born. We moved.  Standards slipped.  Playmobil and Lego took over my house. Then I was down in the basement earlier this week and noticed a wet box in one of the back sections of the cellar (if you’ve never seen my basement, think of the scariest, dankest, horror movie set you can imagine.  Now add tubs of children’s clothes, spiders, and camping equipment).  After determining ( I think.  Hope.) that the wet had come from some spill from above (no subfloor, so anything spilled on the first floor goes into the basment.  It’s a feature.) and not a recurring leak, I opened the box to find the dollhouse rooms.  I figured Ben and Lily were perfect ages for them, and I was right.  They’ve gotten my 20 bucks worth and more.  I expect they’ll be forgotten soon, once the tiny ice cubes are gone from the wee freezer, but really, what can I expect with these stunted, plastic-infected attention spans.  Julianna and Stumpy, though.  They’re still best buddies.

How cute do you have to be

…to be left in the garden, even though the chances are good you’re going to destroy it?

About this cute:

I mean really, he won’t eat much, right?

More on my garden here

I’m growing moss.

It has rained a lot here.  A Lot.  I’m not complaining, really, low water-tables make me nervous.  But seriously man, a LOT of rain.  Today we had a swim meet in the rain.  We had to be at the other team’s pool–20 min away–at 7 o’flippin’ clock.  Why, pray tell, can we not light the pools and have meets at night?  How much cooler would that be, both literally and figuratively? As we loaded up, thunder was rolling and thunder means out of the pool.  It was tempting to say “clearly it will be cancelled” and stay home, but I was scheduled to be Clerk of Course for both halves, so I had to show up just in case.  When we arrived, they told us it was delayed an hour.  Not helpful in any way.

We went to McD’s–blech–for egg and cheese on a muffin.  It laid in my stomach like a rock.  It became clear that Ben wasn’t well (first clue, not excited to receive junk food for breakfast), so I told him he didn’t have to swim.   But Julianna did and I had to be the lining-up-the-kids person, a job that involves  a lot of standing and shouting (which, yeah, it’s fairly well suited to me.  If only I could sit instead).  When went back and checked in in the thunderless drizzle.  Sometimes the drizzle amped up to rain.   The swimmers are wet anyway, so cry no tears for them (although they didnt’ really get to dry off and were quite shivery), but *I* am supposed to stay dry at meets.   I can’t even swim, man.

So it was wet.  The pages of my swim schedule all stuck together and when the rain finally stopped, I steamed.  AND we lost.  So meh.  This hot (okay not really) on the heels of the 4-H leadership campout on Wednesday night.  Anyone living in this weather system will remember that Wednesday was the Night of the Deluge.  Holy sweet baby Elvis, it was wet.  AND cold.  We were staying at the same camp site as the 3rd grade camp-out (see below), so we at least had a pavilion we could hang out under, and didn’t have to huddle in our tents.  Although really, if there had been no pavilion, we could have just gone home…

As it was, the program leader told the kids that the weather was not going to get better and, in fact, an inch of rain was called for over night.  That there was no shame in calling it a night and heading home.  Stalwart pre-teens this lot, and they asserted that it would be wimping out to go home.  We lost a few, but most stayed and toasted their marshmallows over a propane stove.

none of these is my child, so you needn't try to figure out why you don't recognize these kids

there's Julianna, in the green coat. With a heavy sweatshirt underneath.

our determined fire-starters. They really did get one going!

In the end, it wasn’t that bad and there was that bond of going-through-unpleasantness-together.  I had enough dry clothes to stay dry and warm (all hail polarfleece and those hiking pants that dry super fast!), and our tent did not leak at all–hooray REI!  I did, however.  There is no diuretic like the sound of a tent flap zipping shut and when that was combined with the torrential rain, I had to pee about a dozen times.  But that gave me a chance to knock the water off the top of the tent several times, so Im sure that helped our water-tightness.  It continued to rain the next day, but by the time we got home it was sunny and windy, so our gear dryed quickly.

But can I just say I am DONE volunteering?  Camping, field day, swim team, drama…I’m done with other people’s kids.  Done.  And I’m damp.

Little Chocolate Donuts–roasted

The Third Grade Campout was last weekend.  You may recall from some previous rant or other that the teachers decided not to have the annual campout to celebrate the third graders moving up to Upper Elementary.  In our school, the kids have the same teacher for 3 years, so it’s kind of a big deal to leave 3rd grade.  The campout had been a great way to let the kids mingle with the others who will be moving up, get to know each other a bit before the big shuffle.  For a variety of vague reasons, the teachers decided not to do it this year. I was disappointed, but more was dreading having to tell Ben–who’d been looking forward to it since Julianna did it 3 years ago–that it was off.  So I took it on myself.  Sometimes I don’t think things through.

Really, it wasn’t that horrible, particularly in hindsight.  The hard part was finding a spot to camp. It was fairly short notice and I didn’t want us to be too far away–close enough to go home if there was lightning.  Luckily, I got tipped off about the Poplar Grove youth camp site at Catoctin Mountain National Park and snagged all three sites.  when it was too late, I realized I’d booked the same weekend as my college reunion.  But it was done.  The things we do for our children.  More on the reunion later.

After that, it was just light organizing and emailing and stress about whether anyone would come.  In the end, most of the 3rd graders were able to make it and they had a BLAST.  The site was perfect, with woods and open space and a stream.  Behold:

My favorite shot, even though Ben's eyes are closed. Is this not the perfect childhood look?

there was a good deal of tying one another to posts. We figured that if they then started piling kindling at their feet, we should step in.

Yes, they are roasting Cheetos.

Waiting, as patiently as they can, for the fire to go down enough to make s'mores. Eventually, they just went the flaming 'shmallow route.

For breakfast, Little Chocolate Donuts, as endorsed by John Belushi, and roasted over a campfire.

"Chocolate donuts, you say? Tell me more..."

A stream, of course, means a massive civil engineering project.  All kids make dams.  It’s what they do when confronted with running water.  And me?  I struggle not to make hilarious yet inappropriate dam-based puns.  Like when Ben shouted to Nick “Dam the waterfall!” and I yelled “Hey kid, watch your mouth!”  I did say that out loud, but I managed to keep my tongue when Nick asked “Is this dam good?”  I wanted soooo badly to respond “Damn good?  It’s fucking awesome!”  It causes pain, it does.  Probably not good to hold to hold those in.

The dam was needed to catch crawdads

Dam the waterfall! Full speed ahead!

In all, a success.  They had a blast.  And that was what it was about.

Strapping in…

The pool opened today, so thus begins the official End of School Madness season.  Swim team practice will start next week.  All three kids are going to be in a production of a musical version of The Hobbit (”Hobbit!”) in July and those rehearsals have started.  30 min. away.

This week: 4-H club mtg on Wed.  Thursday night is the 6th Grade campout.  Friday is the Earth Kids picnic AND the school auction.

Next week: 4-H video seminar for Julianna on Tuesday.  Final mtg of my 4-H project group on Wed, followed by the 4-H showcase for the school at which my 4-H kids will be presenting their ill-thought-out persuasive speeches.  Friday, Julianna’s class puts on the little ten min. play that she and Ally have written, produced, directed, and will act in.  Friday night, school picnic (why is this not the same night as the auction?!?).  Small Angels on Saturday.  4-H pool party and picnic on Sunday (AND hoping to make it to DE to see Brent, Andi, and Hazel and appear in a family photo).

the week after: Third grade campout, followed by 20 year college reunion (yes, old, I know).  Luckily that week isn’t too nuts, since I’m ostensibly in charge of that campout and will likely be going out of my mind.

Final week of school: School ends on the 17th, which will also be the 4-H leadership project’s camp-out (Julianna and I).

And in all of that, we wedge 3 swim practices and 3 play rehearsals each week.  Gah.  I have carefully structured my life to not be like this, how did it happen?

The Lego sickness takes over

Too much Lego for too long and now look at us!

It’s all Andi’s fault that I did NO laundry today.  Waste your precious time here:

Minifig Maker