Our First Family Camping Trip

We had our first foray into camping this weekend. As we are planning to camp for three nights in Oklahoma in a few weeks, we decided to make a test run: an overnighter at nearby El Dorado Lake. I was determined not to be the big baby on this trip, supposing that my whole family would be all gung-ho and I would be the one that hated camping. Boy, was I wrong!

We went out Friday afternoon to check out the campsites and figure out where we might want to camp. We would have reserved a site, but the site host had taken his wife to the hospital with a broken ankle. So we just looked around.

I went on to work Friday night, then went to the store afterwards. We still had supplies we needed and Arrena and Kimmy were having a tea party with their friends Monday, so I wanted to make sure I didn't have to go to the store again before that. The shopping took forever. My stomach had been feeling yucky for a few days and I was tired, so I think I just moved slowly. I finally left and went home to get some things packed and organized. Chris had gathered up gear in a corner of the garage that he would load into the truck in the morning. I laughed out loud when I saw the huge pile of stuff he had planned to take! I finally made it to bed around 4:30am.

Chris woke me up at 7:30am with a desire to get an early start so we wouldn't lose all the good camping spots. Needless to say, I was exhausted. We loaded up the truck. That was so funny because we had taken out the third row of seats in the Expedition and filled the back, floor to ceiling, plus there was more stuff packed into the floorboards beneath the kids' feet and mine as well. For a one night camping trip! Ha, ha! You'd have thought we were moving out there!

We got out there and picked a very large, shady spot, right next to a walking bridge that led to the swimming beach. It's in El Dorado State Park, but it wasn't really near the lake--you couldn't even see the lake because where you turn off to go to the campsite we were at, you're right by the huge dam. We were by the Walnut River. We set up our campsite and then headed out to explore a bit and get some lunch. We had some miscommunication along those lines. I thought we were leaving first thing Sunday morning, so I only packed food for lunch and dinner Saturday. Turned out, Chris had planned to leave after lunch Sunday, so we were two meals short. We decided to eat at Freddy's Frozen Custard for lunch Saturday. I suddenly had an urge to go shopping when I spotted a store on the main street in El Dorado called Robin's. I had never heard of it before, but I guess they have been featured on the Oprah Winfrey Show, have made TV commercials, and have a website (http://www.shoprobins.com). From looking at the display in the window, Chris concluded that they carry my style clothing. From looking at the website, I would say that might be true, but it is likely doubtful that they carry my current size. Still need to lose that weight!

Anyways, after lunch, we headed back to camp and got changed to go swimming at the beach. The beach was nasty with goose droppings. I had seen a flock of geese through the treeline earlier, but hadn't thought what that would mean. We waded for a while, then headed back to camp. Our shady campsite had become decreasingly shaded as the afternoon progressed. Fortunately we had brought a blowup pool and set it up and filled it with the icy water from the spigot our campsite boasted. The kids splashed and played and Chris and I dragged chairs over and put our feet in. I think it was 98 degrees this weekend, so it was plenty hot and if you're not familiar with Kansas' humidity...you are very fortunate indeed! It was so hot, we went through seven bags of ice in our two small coolers! For, what, 28 hours? Yikes!

There was a family with a little girl, almost four, camped next to us, so the girls invited her to come over and play on their inflatable that we brought (yes, they lugged that huge thing along with us!) and wade in the pool. After she went back to her mom and dad, we started dinner. Chris had said a couple of his friends might come by to meet me. I have been giving him a hard time because he has several friends with motorcycles that he rides with and hangs out with, but I have never met them. So, they showed up when Chris was halfway through making dinner. Okay, first I must tell you that I was really not in the mood to entertain. For one, that three hours of sleep I had gotten was really not cutting it. Then the heat was draining me even more. I felt like I was melting into oblivion! All I wanted to do was lie down in a coolER spot and and stay there. With the heat, goes my appearance. I was pouring sweat; my hair was a frizzy, damp, matted mess; any makeup I had started off the day with, was long gone. Not the condition in which you want to meet anyone! As they arrived, Chris abandoned his cooking. I had been in the middle of making plates for the kids and myself, but I had to run over and take over the cooking to rescue the burgers and sausages from being burned. Chris had made extra for his friends, but they didn't want to eat. I finished making the plates for me and the kids and we went to the screen house to eat, so we wouldn't be plagued by flies and I invited his friends to come sit with us in the screen house so we could visit, but they declined. So I sat with the kids in the screen house while Chris and his friend, his wife, and another woman friend of theirs (girlfriend of another guy friend) conversed far enough away from me that I couldn't participate in the conversation. Between the heat, my lack of sleep, and my stomachache, I was getting irritable. So, when they left me with the children and wandered off chatting, I nearly lost it. When Chris returned and they left, I informed him that I was not the babysitter or the hired help, but that that's how he makes me feel sometimes. He had been offended when some of the parents that brought their children to Kimmy's birthday party had refused to come in the backyard to chat or even meet him--I pointed out that his friends just did the same thing to me. I then retired to the tent to lay in front of the fans we had brought. He said I was pouting, but I was trying to cool off, literally and figuratively.

Billy had started to break out in a heat rash. He has really bad eczema--landed him in the ER last year--so heat is a big problem with him. Chris packed us up in the truck and drove to WalMart...and bought an air conditioner for the tent! We had talked about it for the three-day camping trip, but I was sure we could last one night without one! And I was fine as long as I laid down in front of that fan. I knew it could only get better as it got darker and cooler. I was prepared to tough it out. But, with the rest of the family whining about heat and lack of a TV, I turned out not to be the biggest sissy in the family! It did make it cooler in there, but I worry that it will make me want to hang out in the tent all day instead of being out doing other things!

There was a Vietnam reunion at the lake this weekend, so when it got dark, we drove over to watch the fireworks display they had. After that, we went back to the campsite and went to bed. I thought the girls would be scared and would end up sleeping with us, but they must have been really worn out because they fell asleep right away. Billy took a little more time and woke up once in the night crying and screaming. It took a long time to get him calm again. I woke up a few times, listening to the sounds of crickets, locusts, frogs, and other noises that I couldn't identify.

When we awoke, I went to the screen house and found crumbs all around and all the cookies were gone and there had been a hole chewed in the bag of hotdog buns and most of the buns had been chewed up. We had forgotten to store the non-perishable food away and had just left it in the closed up screen house. We're guessing a raccoon raided us. Lesson learned.

We went and ate breakfast at Braum's in town. Then we packed up most of our camp and went fishing. Chris had restrung the kids' poles several times, but had let them practice casting and Billy and Kimmy's had gotten tangled until he was tired of fixing them and put them away. He and Kimmy fished on one side of a cove, while Arrena fished on the other side, with me and Billy cooling off with our feet in the water nearby. Billy didn't seem to mind that he wasn't fishing--he was amusing himself throwing rocks in the water and scooping up water in his bucket. I don't fish. I don't like the idea of the hooks in the fish's mouth or of "cleaning" the fish. When my dad used to take me fishing, he would give me a pole without a hook on it and I would just cast and reel in all day and be perfectly happy with that. I think daddy was proud because it reminded him of one of his favorite songs (Red Sovine's Daddy's Girl: "I recall the day I took you on a fishin' trip. You said: 'Daddy won't that hook hurt the fish's lip?' And you said if they don't get air, those things in the can will die. So we turned the worms all loose and chased some butterflies. Daddy's Girl, Daddy's Girl, I'm the center of Daddy's world. I know I'm Daddy's number one, for he loves me like I was his son. Daddy's Girl."). Anyways, the fishing only lasted about 20-30 minutes and we realized that the boats were too close (we were getting waves) and were scaring the fish. So, we loaded up, broke camp, and headed home.

Chris said, "I don't think this family was cut out for camping." I said, "We spent enough money on gear, a year-long parking permit, a fishing license, and an a/c unit we don't need. I don't care if we hate it, we're going to keep on camping and get our money's worth out of it!" It wasn't so bad (except for the heat). The only other bad part was that there was a group of teenagers nearby and they liked to tromp right through the middle of our campsite to get to the bridge. So rude. I would open my mouth to tell them off, then stop, trying to let my husband be the man of the family, but he never did say anything to them. I expected him to, I wanted him to, but was surprised when he didn't. He said that they are the type of jerk teenagers who would come back when we were asleep or away from the campsite and either steal or vandalize our stuff, so he just let it slide.

The only real outdoorsman of the family was Billy! Where we had camped, we were within walking distance of a bathroom, but a little too far for a three-year-old who is in the middle of potty-training. So, since he was a boy, Chris told him to pee in the bushes behind our tent. At first, it scared Billy. He couldn't do it. But, he finally acclimated to the idea and before we knew it, we'd look around wondering where he was and see that he was by the bushes, back to us, with his shorts around his ankles. Then he'd run over and exclaim excitedly, "Me go pee-pee!" I took a picture of this--but it's for the blackmail file, so I won't post it here! Then when we got home, hot and tired, wanting nothing more than a bath and to relax on the couch in front of the TV, enjoying the air conditioning, he immediately grabbed his sidewalk chalk and headed out to the back porch to sit in the heat and play. I couldn't believe it!

If nothing else, we learned what we need to do for a longer trip--for example, secure the food and I want an oscillating fan for the screen house--the wind doesn't penetrate the screen very well. It was a good trial run. I think with practice and repetition, we could learn to like camping. Though, I think spring and fall would be better seasons for us!

I wish I hadn't scheduled the girls' tea party so soon after our camping trip, but it was too late to change my mind. It was fun for them. My mom wondered why she had never done something like that for me.

After all of the adventures, I feel like a wrung out dishcloth. I think this week, especially with the hot forecast, will be a week to relax and recuperate.

Bad Trees Make Good Neighbors

In our last neighborhood, we had really nice neighbors on either side of us and the kids really miss them. We occasionally email or visit them still. We have lived in this house for 16 months and have never really known our neighbors. We get busy and wrapped up in our own lives and forget to be outgoing and friendly. I mentioned in a previous blog that our neighbor here was grouchy and didn't like us much.

Well, during Kimmy's birthday week, the neighbors were having their trees cut down. They had been damaged during an ice storm a few years back. One was a behemoth and we didn't like it much since the seed pods or whatever they were that dropped off of it were sticky. However, it did provide a lot of shade for our yard too. The tree cutting was a bit annoying because they were using our yard and driveway to fell the beast. Logs littered our yard, their trucks blocked our driveway and mailbox, and we were asked not to leave our car in the driveway. Chris was ticked off. After the neighbor lady (Rose) had gotten onto him about his friend's car being parked in front of her house, her tree people were blocking our driveway and her tree was littering our yard. He said something to her about it and the driveway wasn't blocked much after that, but the logs remained. It was somewhat annoying because they took over a week to get done and the logs were still there when we had Kimmy's BBQ and we were unable to mow the lawn.

The girls watched out their bedroom window as the crew climbed up the trunk and cut down branches. The girls cheered and cackled maniacally as branches demolished the woman's flower beds and plants. I was appalled. I asked why they were being so vicious and they said, "She's a mean lady." I said, "You don't know that lady. She might be very nice." Then we talked about how the Bible says that even if someone is mean, you are still to be nice to them. And I mentioned Jesus' prayer from the cross as an example: "Father, forgive them for they know not what they do." They hung their heads. (Though I must confess that based on the encounters Chris had with her, I wasn't too keen on her myself.)


We have been trying to find some mulch for our side yard. That's the dogs' "pen". There is a gate so we can shut off that side of the yard and keep them corralled. They are so destructive that I don't trust them in the full yard anymore, I want to keep the feces contained so the kids can play without getting in it, and Billy gets scared of how rowdy the dogs are since they are so much bigger than he is. Anyways, we wanted mulch because that area floods every time it rains and the dogs are in water and muck. I had just posted on a message board to see if anyone knew where I could find some mulch when I heard chainsaws outside. I went outside and asked what they do with the tree after they cut it down. They said they take the branches to their property ( I think they said the deer eat the leaves), but they might let me have the trunk. I didn't think they would remember, so I didn't hold my breath. But, after they were done, Rose came by and said if I wanted the mulch, I could have all I wanted.


So, Friday morning, I went out and helped her shovel mulch. I didn't think that there would be enough for my whole side yard from that one tree, but there was. I finished up today with nine cart loads and we had way more than that on Friday. I was so sore Saturday after all that shoveling and raking! Rose and I talked some during the work. She's a German lady, so we had something in common, since we lived in Germany for two years. We both have two large dogs that like to dig and chew. And she knows the lady that owns this house and suggested that I write to her to let her know how horrible the property management company is. She said they live in Okinawa, Japan. Anyways, she seemed a nice enough lady after all.


I bought her a begonia plant to say thank you and also to give her a start on replacing the plants that the tree people ruined. She seemed delighted. Her husband, who is sick with diabetes and cancer, came out and said, "How come you are so nice and your husband is such a stinker?" I laughed because Chris says that in most couples one is nice and the other is mean and he always thinks I am the mean one out of our couple! I said, "He's not so bad. He just works a lot and is tired most times." Rose invited the kids over to feed the fish in a pond they have in the backyard. I told the children, "See? She IS nice."

So, we have changed the proverb: good fences don't make good neighbors...bad trees do.

A Dream With An Alternate Ending

I don't usually remember my dreams, but I had a dream about my dad last night. I think it was because we watched a movie last night that really disturbed me. It was Untraceable starring Diane Lane. There were two parts that thoroughly up-ended me (besides the sickness of the murders and torture). The one was the thought that millions of people could be so sick as to tune into a website to not only watch a murder, but actually participate (the premise of the story is that the killer rigged it so that the more people that watched, the faster the person died). I know there are sick people out there, but I think of them as aberrant, not the status quo. Surely in real life there aren't MILLIONS of people who would find that entertaining. I know it was just a movie, but it was the idea and the niggling doubt that disturbed me. The second thing that bothered me was the scene where the FBI are watching one of their own agents being tortured to death. I wanted to weep, even though it was only a movie, to think of having to watch someone you know and love being tortured to death.

I don't know if that was the reason I had this dream or not. But, I can't think of any other reason I would suddenly be dreaming about this close to two years after my dad's death.

Most know the story of my dad's death, so for their sake (& mine) I will try to keep this brief. But I know not everyone will know the story, so let me backtrack just a minute for some background.

My dad died October 10, 2006. Well, that's the official date of death on the death certificate. My dad had been in ill health for a while and had just been in the hospital for his second bout with congestive heart failure a few weeks before he died. I'll try not to assume my soapbox against the VA hospital, but I do blame them. My dad's doctor had taken him off one of his diuretics and his lungs were starting to fill with fluid. I remember visiting him in the hospital and thinking, "What if dad never leaves here again?" Anyways, the ICU cardiologist told dad he needed to be on that diuretic, but when he followed up with his VA primary care doctor, she said, "Who is your doctor? I am your doctor and you will do what I say!" And she took him off of it again. I had been worried about him because he wasn't able to get around like he used to and he wouldn't call me when he needed me, worried I was too busy. I finally got him to let me grocery shop for him and I began calling him every day after he mentioned having a diabetic "episode" where he had lost time and woke up in an odd situation. We were beginning to discuss and look into a retirement community of some sort because I was afraid to have dad living alone. Well, then I got bitten by some weird spider, I guess. I never saw it, but I had the bite on my knee when I woke up. It swelled up to the size of a grapefruit and was extremely painful. I felt like a baby, but my husband insisted I go to the doctor. Turned out I was having a secondary reaction and as I sat in the office, I broke out in a rash from head to toe. They put me on antibiotics, steroids, Benadryl, and Lortabs--that's how painful it was. I was pretty dopey, to say the least.

Anyways, I forgot to call my dad (I think this was a Wednesday). My therapist said that I didn't "forget" my dad, I was just living life and also in a drug-induced stupor. But, my guilty conscience still doesn't buy that excuse. When I did call him and got no answer and no return call (as per our agreement, as an alert to emergency situations), I didn't react in the prescribed manner. I had told him I would show up to check, but I didn't. Whether it was denial that anything was wrong, or denial to spare myself from what my subconscious told me would be a horrible discovery, or whether I was just careless, I couldn't tell you. My brother and I had been playing phone tag. I had wanted him to call to check on dad on weekends, since I often caught up on my sleep on Saturdays and Sundays. But, as we had only left messages for each other, he didn't grasp the importance of actually talking to dad, so when he got no answer, he thought nothing of it (dad often--before our agreement--didn't answer the phone if he was tired or sick and took forever to return calls) and didn't go check either. Finally, on Monday I was more coherent and realized I hadn't talked to dad. I had called later than usual, so when I got no answer, I hoped it was because he was already in bed, so I left a message and waited for the call to be returned. It wasn't. Tuesday, I called once more, then prepared to go check on him. My husband tried to get me to allow him to go, but I refused. I don't know if deep down I was in denial and thought everything would be fine or if I thought it was my duty, or why exactly I insisted on going. It makes no sense to me now. I called my brother on the way, as I was supposed to meet him later. I desperately wanted to ask him to come with me or for him to offer, but I knew I couldn't and neither could he. On the way there, I began thinking of scenarios to explain the lack of contact. When I got there, I knocked and knocked. No answer, so I went back to the car and retrieved my key and my cell phone (apparently amidst all the denial, there was a shred of instinct). I entered and the first sign that I should have stopped right there and called 911 was the smell in the house. But I rationalized that if he had been sick, he might not have taken out the trash. So, I started walking through the house, calling out, "daddy!", so as not to startle him. When I got to his room, I flicked on the light and saw him on the bed and I quickly flicked the light back off and ran sobbing from the room and the house, my fingers fumbling to dial 911. I told them that I KNEW he was dead, but they made me go back in and look again to be sure, in case there was something we could do to help him. I won't go into detail, more for my own sake than yours, but I could tell that he had not recently passed--he was decomposing. I am a squeamish person. Anything dead repulses me. But, that it was my own father was really hard. I couldn't sleep. And then the guilt came. I never thought I could have saved him. I believe that everyone has their time--if I had been standing next to him, I couldn't have saved him. But, I feel guilty that I didn't find him sooner. It makes me feel like a horrible daughter to know that my dad lay there dead for four or five days before anyone noticed. It's also terribly embarrassing.

I tell that story because I think it's relevant to my dream. I think I hated the outcome so much that I dreamed a different one. I dreamed that my dad was alive, but that he was still going to die and we all knew it. It was as if me and my little family were transported back in time--we knew what would happen, but no one else did. Dad was living in a little old house instead of his trailer and he had a cat. He had been at the hospital and was on his way home and I called him because we wanted to come check on him. He didn't want to visit long, but asked if I would take care of the cat and have him a pizza and a drink waiting so he could just eat and go right to bed. I tried to argue that the pizza wasn't good for him, but gave up, knowing that he would die-- what difference would it make? I had to chase the cat to the neighbor's yard. I remember dad sent something to mom (they had been separated for six years). I think it was an article or poem or something he found--something about "wife." It was hard to hug and kiss him goodbye, especially for the kids, since we all knew we wouldn't see him again. And he didn't know. Then my dream had two endings. I don't know if that's how my mind did it naturally, or if I woke a little and decided to change it. It was fresh on my mind when I woke up, so it's likely it was a recent dream. In the first version, we went home and anxiously and sleeplessly waited out the next 24 hours, then I sent my husband to check on him, saying, "I can't do this again," even if he hadn't been decomposing for a few days. The second version, I couldn't wait. I called 911 not long after we left him, said that I suspected my dad was suffering from congestive heart failure, they picked him up in an ambulance, and he died in the hospital, being cared for.

I suspect that if I had been born in another era, I wouldn't have this aversion to death. Don't get me wrong, I don't fear death (not because I think I am invincible, but because I know Someone who is!). I fear dead things and dead people. I fear finding someone I love dead. I fear watching someone I love die. From books I have read, written around the turn of the century, it seems it was commonplace for people to die at home with their loved ones around them. That's not the way it happens most times now. It was natural back then, but now natural to me seems to be dying in a hospital. I am comfortable with the idea of someone dying in the hospital--that seems right to me, so I guess I created an ending that seemed right to me. I hated that my dad died alone, though I am not sure I could have handled watching him die, even in a hospital. I couldn't even be in the room when my cats died. How could I watch my dad die? I pray God gives me strength--I know at some point, I might have to watch my mom or my husband or someone else close to me die. I hope I can be strong enough to hold their hand and not flee the room. Or, I pray God takes me first. Not that I am in a hurry! I'd like to at least see my children raised first. Then, I'm ready.

When I was a kid, I didn't have much experience with death. I was trying to think of how many funerals I went to. I think I was too young to go to my aunt's and my grandma's funerals. I went to my great-grandpa's, my uncle's, a friend's dad's, and I think I recall going to an infant's funeral (someone in our church). None of these people were very close to me. My first real experience with death was Chris' dad, when I was nearly 25. Just before that, we went to Chris' great-uncle's funeral, then Chris' dad's. After that, it seems like a string...my cousin, my aunt, my great-grandma, my other cousin, Chris' grandma, my dad, my uncle, Chris' aunt--there may be more, but they start to run together, sadly enough. That's ten in the last seven years. I am getting more experience than I want to have.

I have actually begun to be thankful that I found my dad. I was the only one in the family to see him like that. I have closure, I have the burden of seeing what I saw and carry it with some measure of peace that I (as the oldest) was the rightful one to find him. I gladly shoulder that burden alone, gladly spare anyone else from that burden, gladly spare dad the indignity of being seen in that condition by anyone else. Even though I struggled and had to go to a psychiatrist and take anti-depressants and still have dreams, I believe that I have more strength than some of my family and was able to bear what others could not. If I sometimes still find myself wanting to call my dad, forgetting if but a moment, the tragedy I witnessed, how much more so would I be in denial if I had sent my husband and never seen dad again? Closed caskets do not afford closure.

I apologize to my readers if this post was extremely depressing. This was cathartic for me. It's hard to have a good day when you wake up with ghosts and guilt. I had to write it out. This form of therapy is much cheaper than a psychiatrist and doesn't leave me as numb as a pill would. Here's to good dreams tonight with a conscience clear and a burden lighter.

Kimmy Turns Six!

Last week was Kimmy's 6th birthday. She shares her birthday with Chris' dad who passed away almost a year before she was born. I really wish they had known each other. I think he would have gotten such a kick out of Kimmy. (By the way, this isn't a recent photo, but I love it so much! It really shows Kimmy in true form!)

I can't believe that my baby girl is 6 now! In so many ways she still seems like such a little thing. But lately, watching her with her friends, I see a maturity in her that I don't see in her peers. Her friends still act like little kids, but she tends to act older. And she is so intelligent. I have to say that she is probably the most well-behaved of my children. We went to the grocery store the other day. Arrena and Billy were horrible. They acted up the whole way through--both had to ride in the cart, both fought, both grabbed at things, both kept running off, both were loud and obnoxious. Kimmy, however, walked next to me and helped whenever she could and was very quiet.

Anyways, back to her birthday. On her birthday (Wednesday the 2nd), we went to the zoo and then to Burger King for dinner. I let her open two of her gifts and her cards from other family members. We set off a couple of daytime fireworks (snappers, bumblebees, and parachutes). We saw some thick clouds rolling in and heard some rumbles, so we hurried to set them off instead of waiting for daddy to get home. Because of the approaching storm, the wind was a little strong and a couple of our parachute guys made an invasion on one of our neighbors backyards! YIKES! I had to go to work, so we didn't do much more than that. She was disappointed at the zoo because she had wanted to feed the giraffes at a feeding station that is open twice a day, but her favorite animals weren't cooperating. One year on her birthday, the keeper let her come back behind the public area and feed one of the giraffes. Of course I didn't have my camera with me then!

On Friday (the Fourth of July), we had her slumber party/BBQ. I didn't volunteer to work for the holiday. Her heart was a little broken because with it being summer and everyone taking vacations and also with it being a holiday weekend (which can't be helped as this is when her birthday falls), most of her friends couldn't come. One we couldn't get a hold of at all (which I think was no big loss as the only things I hear about her, besides, "she's my best friend"--one of many Kimmy claims--make me believe the girl is a bully), one was going out of town, one had other plans and came by briefly but couldn't stay the night, one never responded, and another (a cousin) was supposed to be dropped off by her dad, but they never showed up. Chris countered most of this by inviting his brother and his girlfriend and their four children (plus their sister's son who was with them), and his other brother and his three kids (his daughter was already planning to stay the night). We also had both the grandmas over, the family that dropped by briefly, my friend from work and her daughter, and a few parents who lingered to chat for a few minutes before scurrying off to their night of freedom! Ha, ha. Spending the night, besides my ten-year-old niece that I previously mentioned, was Arrena's best friend (we allowed her to have one friend over) and one of Kimmy's friends from kindergarten (the gym teacher's daughter).

I think they had a good time. I painted little girls' nails (and my own) in patriotic flair--alternating red with white stripes and blue with star stickers or rhinestones. Then I think we ate. We had set up a screen tent in the backyard, which is where the men went, but the women stayed inside (it was HOT). The kids either jumped on the trampoline or played inside. Then I had all the kids put on their swimsuits and turned on the sprinkler. I had planned on putting out the wading pool, but with fourteen children, the wading pool would have been way too small. Well, the sprinkler hadn't been on a full minute, I don't think, when Billy stomped on it and broke it, so the water sprayed down instead of up. I tried to turn it over, but it didn't last long and they were back on the trampoline. The kids got dressed again and Kimmy opened her gifts. Then they ate cupcakes. I had gotten Kimmy a "cupcake cake" in the shape of a rainbow. It was beautiful, but the icing was thick (the whipped kind) and it made for messy faces! After that, we made bracelets and necklaces with gads of beads that I had bought. When it got dark, we went outside and set off fireworks for them. I had made the most of coupons and special sales, so I had a big bag of fireworks and only paid about $45 for them. Billy was really impressed, but I think the girls are getting too old because Arrena complained it was boring (nearly got herself banished) and Kimmy wanted to know why we didn't have certain kinds.

Kimmy had her heart set on these chocolate chip oatmeal cookies that I make, so I was making those at 11:00pm! Only one of the girls didn't like them--the rest loved them. I was sure they would all pass out soon (except maybe my niece who is used to staying up late), but when I went to check on them about 1:00am, only my two girls were asleep! The rest were wide awake and talking about cute boy actors! My poor little girls just hang with the party! You can see the little sleepy bodies in the picture! I went to bed not long after that, but was awakened at 2:30am by a knock on the door. It was the gym teacher's daughter with Billy. I still am not quite sure what was going on. I think he woke up and went downstairs to see what was going on and she brought him to me. That's his story anyways, from his limited vocabulary and garbled speech. I put him in bed with us and sent her back downstairs.

I woke up around 8:00am, thinking they would all surely still be asleep, after the late night they had just put in. I was wrong! They were bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. I fed them, two of the girls were picked up, I drove my niece home, dropped off the kids at their grandma's, went home to clean up the mess (!), took a nap, and went to dinner with Chris. I think I wore myself out with the plans, the preparation, and the party, because I have felt like a lazy lump ever since!

So, now my little bitty Kimmy is six! She will start first grade in a few more weeks (I can't believe it, but Kimmy's birthday was the halfway point in the summer break!). And now she has her first loose tooth! I don't know what to think about that. One of the things I love the most about Kimmy is her smile with her cute little teeth. I can barely stand the thought of her losing them! She pulled out one of her sister's just the other day. She makes fun of Arrena's "transition"--says her teeth look funny: some adult, some baby, some gone! I think it has been easier to watch Arrena grow since she acts so grownup (in attitude, if not in behavior!) than to watch my Kimmy-pop. She loves that nickname. I used to sing to her, "Kimmy, Kimmy, cocoa-pop...." So now, it gets shortened to Kimmy-pop, Cocoa-pop, Cocoa, or daddy sometimes calls her "Kimmy-cocoa."

Happy Birthday Kimmy!

The Not-So-Great Outdoors

Today we went back to the splash park with my friend and her kids. No teenage smackdowns today...

We are planning to go to my annual family reunion over Labor Day weekend this year. We try to go as often as we can. But, we have always just driven down for the day and come back that night. I'm not sure why we did that when I was a kid, but I know as a married adult, the reason for six of those years, was that I had to deliver newspapers 365 days a year, so I had to be back for the Sunday paper. Last year, I had quit the paper before that time, but I don't think we had planned for going and it came up on us so suddenly that I had forgotten about it. This year, however, we have decided to camp for three nights. This is a big deal. I haven't been camping since I was a toddler. My parents used to have a camper on my dad's truck and they went quite a bit, but I don't remember it. They have pictures of me as a baby playing in the camper or old movie reels of me swimming in the lake with my mom and of me and my cousin, one year my senior, sneaking around stealing drinks of pop from the adults when they weren't watching. So, I have zero experience with camping. I've been to summer camps as a teen, but that's nowhere near the same.

Furthermore, I am not a high-maintenance kind of woman, but I have never really been an outdoors-y sort of person. I'm not the type to strap on hiking boots and head out for a nature walk. Although I like gardens, I have a hard time getting motivated to go outside and work on one. Although the IDEA of sitting outside on a nice evening appeals to me, when it comes down to it, I'd rather sit in the house. If left to my own devices, I don't think I would even voluntarily go to parks.

So, the other day, I began to contemplate the reason for this aversion to the outdoors. I think part of it has to do with the bugs. The last two places we have lived have had wasp problems. I haven't been stung, but Chris, Arrena, and Kimmy all have. I hate being bitten by mosquitoes. I know, you can spray junk all over you or burn stinky candles, etc., but what's the point of sitting outside if you have to smell such stinky stuff? My opinion is that the chemicals don't repel the bugs, the bugs just can't stand the way you smell, so they steer clear!

Really the biggest reason, I think, is that I am soft. I have gotten so used to technology and modern convenience that I prefer it. My biggest can't-live-without item is air conditioning. I think that originates from when we lived in Germany. I don't know how it is now, but when we were there, air conditioning was unheard of. Probably rich people had it, but from what I understood, normal people did not. We lived in the fifth floor of an American housing unit. Since it was the top floor, we had slanted ceilings and skylights instead of regular windows. The lower floors had these "shades", which more closely resembled some sort of armor that slid over the outside of the windows. We didn't have that. We had to pin up sheets to keep the sun out, which really didn't work well because you couldn't keep it totally fastened if you wanted to open your window. And you had to open them or it became stifling in there. The climate there wasn't SO bad. Not like Kansas. It was unbearably hot maybe one week out of the summer, as I recall. The rest of the summer was hot, but somewhat tolerable. Especially if you became accustomed to it. That one week, I would sit in the hallway, away from the heat of the sun through the windows, or I would sit in the stairwell--cold marble steps, no windows on that level. There were also no screens on our windows and we got bees in our apartment all the time. At the time, I was really afraid of them, so if one flew in, I would shut the door to that room and not enter it again until Chris came home to kill it. There were a few times, when I ran out of rooms that were "bee-free" and ended up sitting in the hallway until he got home. He often laughed at me. After that, I swore I would never again go without air conditioning.

Another experience that made me dependent on air conditioning was being pregnant in the Kansas summer. YIKES! When I was pregnant with Arrena, my first, I gained a horrible 45 pounds and we moved back to Kansas when I was four months pregnant. She was due September 28 and for three months of the summer, I don't think the high was below 100 degrees. I remember some dumb person asked me when I was due and when I replied, he said, "Oh man, you mean you have to be pregnant for the whole summer?" I said, "No, I think I'll have her removed for the summer and then put her back when it's over!" And of course, we had our first frost the weekend AFTER she was born--up to then, it was hot, hot, HOT! Anyways, late in my pregnancy, I had to ride somewhere with Chris' aunt in her car. The air conditioning didn't work, but that wasn't all! Three of the windows wouldn't roll down and the fourth would only roll down a little. About the only thing that worked on that car was the internal thermometer, which said it was 128 degrees in the car!

When I was a teenager, I volunteered for a hospital as a candy striper. One of the tasks they chose me for was to dress up with another girl as Raggedy Ann & Andy and visit the children's ward. It was really fun to help the kids, but those suits (the big padded ones with the huge heads of chicken wire and paper mache were heavy and HOT. I read somewhere that those suits can get up to 125 degrees inside. We would visit a few children, then go to an empty room, shed the costume and cool off, then suit up and head out again. We repeated the role at the Safety First Kids Expo. There were several rows of tables set up in the expo hall. We would make a lap around the two middle rows, then head upstairs to a cordoned-off area, strip down, and sit on top of the a/c vents for a while before repeating the process.

I HATE HEAT!

And here, it's not just the heat...(altogether now) it's the humidity (it's a mantra that every Kansan worth his salt knows by heart)! My best friend has often said (and from my three trips out there, I agree with her) that it's hotter to her here when it's in the 80s range than when she is in Arizona and it's 110 degrees. Oklahoma's climate is not that far off our own--that's where the family reunion is.


But, I am game. I don't know what it will be like to camp for three days in a tent (our new one pictured here--Chris and the kids had to put it up in the front yard to see what it looked like), but I will try it for my family's sake {me pointing my finger skyward, triumphantly}! Of course, my husband is trying to secure a portable air conditioner unit for our tent and other various amenities that will make it less "roughing it." Of course, now that I think of it, I wonder if he is doing this for me or for himself.... Hmmm....