Almost-Camping Trip

The kids were very excited about our last camping trip, to a *real* campground instead of a state park.  All the goodies; a store, an arcade, inground pool, playground…you get the idea.

Six miles from home our truck died.

We managed to get it back home again, and were able to ‘upgrade’ our reservations to a cabin.  We won’t talk about how much that cost, but it wasn’t pretty.  Then, as we were unloading supplies from the camper to my Explorer, and trying to figure out how we were going to fit everything, the sky opened up and dumped the most incredible downpour I’ve ever seen on us.  Close to an hour later, we had a small lake in our front yard that would have floated Michael’s kayak…and we never have more than the occasional puddle in the driveway.  Dave and I thought for sure this trip was doomed.

Now, usually when we are camping, Dave is in the truck (with one of the kids, or the dogs, or both) and I have the rest of the kids with me.  Most of our trips are short, so it’s not a big deal; on our occasional longer ones I sometimes moan about taking two vehicles…waste of gas, we’re supposed to be together, I need another adult to talk to.  I have since changed my mind, and am all for taking two vehicles.  I don’t ever want to spend that much time in the car together again.  The least bit of whining sets Dave on edge, and he was already stressed and upset to begin with, so I’m sure you can imagine what a nightmare it was.  Never.Ever.Again.  

Our cabin turned out to be adorable, just perfect.  It was flipped so the entrance was in the back, with a little porch and swing.  After the girls were in bed the first night it rained a bit, and Dave and I sat on the swing drowning our sorrows with our good friend the Captain, watching Michael play tennis with the bugs.  (I did not buy that, and I wasn’t sure it was a great idea, but after a few drinks it was hysterical.  Poor, innocent bugs.)

We were off hiking the next day, starting at Lower Ammonoosuc Falls.  We underestimated how tired the girls were, and the very short walk in was quite unpleasant.  Michael scooted ahead and arrived first.

Nothing perks up my kids like rocks and water, so after complaining and crying all the way, the girls had a blast.  The rocks create an echo where the kids are standing in the next photo, and it sounds like the river is rushing right over your head instead of in front of you.

You would never know that Kenna whined, cried, pouted, sat down and refused to walk, and was all-around miserable for the half mile or so we walked to get there.  She really enjoyed herself.

We decided to let the kids explore a bit, but not too long.  I try to keep them wanting more, otherwise our outings end on a sour note.  It almost worked.  The kids were happy to start back so they could have a snack.  For about three steps.  Then Kenna started all over again.  We abandoned our plans to see the Upper Falls and the other places we had planned to hike.  We took the roundabout way to Clark’s Trading Post instead, so the girls could have a nap, and we could do something that wasn’t going to make everybody miserable.  It worked, we had a great time, and then headed back to the campground to go swimming.  The girls are fish this year, I think they would have been content to spend all day every day at the pool.

Our last full day found us hiking (if at first you don’t succeed, try, try again!) The Flume Gorge.  I knew this was an ambitious hike, but it was something I really wanted to do, and figured we’d be fine with Priscilla in the wrap.  She napped most of the way up.  Kenna hiked all the way to the top, coming down she was tired, so she was either in the wrap (she’s waaay to heavy for that now) or riding Daddy’s shoulders.

I think if I had done this without the kids, I would have hiked it twice, to see the things I missed the first time around.  

On our way home, we stopped to see The Basin.  Our hope was that we’d get the kids good and tired, and that our ride home was a little more peaceful.  Thankfully, it worked.

 

We had a great time, in spite of our rocky beginning.  I’m so glad we were able to swap to a cabin.  If we had stayed home I’m sure we all would have growled at each other all week and been miserable.

Not too long ago, I was pushing the girls on the swings, and trying to weed the little shade garden by the swingset at the same time.  I was so pleased to have finished that chore, only to find when I went to show Dave that I had missed on really big one.  I yanked it up and this is what we found:

Just one of many acorns in our yard.  Of course, I had to drag all the kids outside to see it and have an impromptu science lesson.  Kenna was thrilled, and we had to find a pot for her to plant it in.

Thankfully, she had had her fill of it two weeks later when the puppy snagged it off the deck to chew the plastic pot.    

 

Dance!

McKenna’s dance recital was at the beginning of June.  Sometimes it’s still hard to believe I have girls.  When she was born I was so surprised.  That whole first day I kept peeking into her diaper to make sure.  And now that same baby girl I waited so long for is big enough to dance.  *sniff*  I’m tickled pink with our dance studio.  None of the little kid classes ended up dressed in an animal costume - that’s always bothered me, little girls want to be beautiful ballerinas.  If they want to dress up like puppies or chickens, well, that’s what Halloween is for.  But, I digress.  Look at my gorgeous girl!

 

It hasn’t been all bad…

Way back at the beginning of June (gosh, I’ve been busy!), we went camping.  This kids were so excited about this trip, after spending several weeks ‘camping’ in the front yard.  (I won’t bore you with the details of the nasty stomach flu we all had, resulting in multiple trips home to wash sheets and sleeping bags…no bad luck floating around my house lately!)

Honestly, at first we thought the kids were sick because we were lousy parents and let them toast too many marshmallows:

In between trips to the bathroom, the kids managed to have a pretty good time.  Michael made it out on the lake once with the kayak and saw a bear on the shore.  Yes, a real, live bear!  I wish I trusted him with a camera on the water, he gets to see all the good stuff!

Then (on his way back from doing laundry, God bless him), Dave spotted a turtle and stopped to pick it up so the kids could see it.  They promptly named him Fred, plopped him in a box, and got to know him.

After playing with Fred for a few minutes, we convinced them that Fred really needed to be free, and that the beach was the best place for him to be.  Off we went in search of freedom for Fred.

Fred was no dummy, he spotted that water and took off.  Priscilla stood on the beach, one hand up in the air to wave, yelling (ok, screaming) “Bye, Fred!  BYE, FRED!!!  BYE, FRED!!!”  He walked right in and swam away.  

We didn’t really get to hike, since we needed a bathroom close by at all times, but since it was early June we were able to walk the road and explore all the empty campsites.  We had a hard time dragging the kids out of this tree, it was made for climbing.

Then the kids spent quite a while trying to take this rock out of the tree.  No such luck, LOL.

Day one, when it was hot and sunny, the beach was closed due to a high bacteria count.  Then we had a couple of days of sickness and lousy weather when the beach was open.  On the first partly sunny, partly healthy day, the kids jumped right in.  I don’t remember being so determined to swim that I didn’t care when my lips were blue and my whole body was covered with goosebumps, but my kids never notice that stuff.

 

Our campsite was right next to a big playfield.  The girls were so tired after swimming that they almost fell asleep here:

Michael took this picture of us.  Dave and I were drooling over all the wild blueberry bushes on the shore.  No wonder the bears hang out there.

We saw ladyslippers all over while we were exploring.  I haven’t seen any for years.  They always make me smile, because they remind me of walking in the woods with my grandmother when I was little.  They were endangered then (maybe they still are, I don’t know) and it was illegal to pick them.  My grandmother always let me pick just one, and it drove my mother nuts.  I love ladyslippers.

My last exploring shot, this is so sweet.

And finally, our view.  

Out of the Mouths of Babes

Overheard while McKenna was playing with the little boy camping next to us:

“No, you’ve got to hide the guns, it’s government hide and seek!”

I swear she didn’t learn that from me.  

Bad Ju-ju

In the last month:

Dave’s truck died - three times ($2000 and counting)

the washing machine let go

the gas grill died

my laptop died 

my $1000, oil-fired hot water heater is leaking

Nick is going to trade school - $25000/year - and doesn’t qualify for one penny of financial aid

we had to rent a cabin this week so that we didn’t have to tell the kids we couldn’t go camping

I am so poor.  This sucks.

Puppy Love

This is how motivated I am to blog about anything at all:

(This is how Priscilla plays with the dog.  He’s quite tolerant of her little games.)

Hypocrite

This was a beautiful post. Really.  It’s too bad you don’t practice what you preach.  It’s too bad that you’ve blocked me from commenting on your blog, even though all I did was point out your hypocrisy.  I honestly wanted to have a discussion with you to try to understand why you believe that God wants you to decide someone is hopeless, and avoid them at all costs.  Are you afraid to defend your beliefs?  Are you unsure?

Since you are unable to discuss this on your own blog, where your peers may read all about it, please feel free to comment here.  Unlike you, I will not delete your comments if I don’t like what you say.  Unlike you, I am not afraid of having a simple discussion with a stranger about the things I believe in.

And unlike you, I believe I will stand before God one day, secure in the knowledge that I was kind to people, that I was able to look past their sins to the hidden jewels inside; and know that I honestly tried to see a glimpse of what God sees in all of us.

McKenna

The girls have a little guitar that was gifted to them by some friends of ours.  Usually they pull it out when Michael is playing his, or Cilla will try to use it as a weapon.  This morning, though, Kenna was sitting on her bedroom floor, guitar half on her lap and half on the floor in front of her.  Singing her little heart out, “I was born with my walls painted purple…”  OMG, the cuteness!

Then, later on today, after a long, boring trip to the Joslin Clinic in Boston, she was entertaining Nick in the backseat.  She started blowing raspberries at him, and said, “Oh, look!  My tongue is raining!  Watch my tongue rain again!”  Nick laughed all the way home, it made the ride so much more bearable, and took some of the sting out of his horribly high HgA1c.

Dumbest Chickens Ever

Lucy and her sisters (I hope they are sisters) are not very bright. In fact, they are downright stupid.

As my chicks get older, I have always dumped their little feeder tray into the shavings that line their coffin-size Rubbermaid container. They learn fairly quickly how to scratch around to find goodies to eat, and it gives me a chance to wash and dry the tray. Not these chickens. Oh, no. I dump, they squawk. They do not scratch. I return the empty tray, attempting to make a point - the food isn’t in there anymore. They peck at the empty tray. Ten minutes later, I return to the bathroom, and the chicks are still attempting to get the empty feed tray to give up a morsel or two…all the while, they are standing on top of all the feed I dumped out.  I’m also trying to teach them to eat scraps: apple cores, skins, the ends of bread.  This is like crack for chickens.  Except these chickens; these chickens are afraid of whatever is invading the feed tray.

They also bury their water in shavings, and then freak out because they are thirsty.  They never have water for more than five minutes, and I am sick to death of scooping shavings out of it so they can drink.  We elevated the waterer, which has worked well with every other batch of chicks we’ve had to cut down on the shavings in the water.  You guessed it, not these chicks.

They aren’t going to survive their first 24 hours outside at this rate. You can’t teach common sense, even (especially?) to a chicken.