I mean to post every week, but last week doesn't count because I was doing this:
There's this fantasy I have in my head that I'm on a game show, and I get to choose which type of vacation I want; one that is the nomadic style camping trip that we always do, or one in which I stay in one place for a full week at a luxury resort hotel. All I have to do is ring a bell on a tray near the kind of trip I want. I'd slam the bell for the luxury resort so hard that it'd fall through the floor.
However, camping is kind of Matt's religion and it is one of the few times I really get to see him relax. Plus, it's not something we have to save for over half a year, like, say... Hawaii. Therefore, a camping I will go.
This year was a bit different because it was the first year that we were dropping J off for camp. His brother and sister have been going away to this camp for years, and before last fall, J was excited for his turn to come. However, because J is J and because since babyhood he's exhibited his belief that life should mostly be hard, he changed his mind after we paid the non-refundable deposit. He spent the next six months riddled with anxiety over it, sometimes crying himself to sleep and repeatedly telling us that we didn't love him because we were forcing him to go to camp.
I almost just ate the deposit and gave in to him. Of the four, he's my kid that I worry about the most. It'd have been easier to keep him with me than to send him off and worry about whatever forces may cross his path at camp. He has allergies, he's not as mature as PG and 9 were when they first went, nor is he as outgoing. I had to keep reminding myself that one of my parenting philosophies is to never let my personal fears keep my kids from having experiences that are good for them. I think that's getting to be a lost art in these days of helicopter parenting.
Thankfully, sticking to our guns turned out to be okay. His sister and brother amped up their "camp is fun" campaign by repeatedly regaling him with stories about how much fun they had in the past. By the time we dropped him off, he was feeling better about the situation. In fact, he didn't want to hug us goodbye because all of his cabin mates were there and watching. (The kid across from him had a sound-effect machine with 32 sounds that he was really enthusiastic about, and all I can say is, sitting on a cactus would be more pleasurable than being in charge of eight boys in that particular age group for six whole days. God bless that counselor. I hope he survived.)
And then there was one.
If any of you other parents of multiple children haven't had a chance to spend some extended one-on-one time with each kid, I highly recommend it. It's kind of amazing how different kids are without their siblings around. (I think science has mentioned that fact once or twice before.)
We had fun. We camped in Sequoia for two nights at Stony Creek. You want to know what I learned about stony creeks? It's not a good idea to climb around them in flip flops because you may fall on your ass. Twice.
You also make look up from falling to see your husband reaching in his back pocket for his phone-not to call 911 (which you aren't entirely sure shouldn't be done)- but to take a picture of your humiliation. To his credit, he put his phone back when he saw I was hurting, so that redeems him.
A bit.
A very tiny bit.
After Sequoia we headed to Lake Cachuma, and stopped at Madonna Inn on the way. If you haven't been to Madonna Inn, it's a huge hotel tucked in at the backside of the Hearst property in San Luis Obispo. When I was a kid, I thought it was the height of fanciness, but now the decor just looks to me like a weird marriage of Swiss Chalet and Las Vegas Tacky. Still fun to visit though, if for nothing but old time's sake.
The next day was the best day of the entire trip, with the exception of a small blunder in the morning: Roo and I were in a chocolate shop in Solvang when she asked if we could buy some marzipan. I told her "Honey, you don't want that. I put it in your Easter Basket one year and you didn't like it." Right away, the lady behind the counter looked at me with an expression that said, "You stupid, stupid woman." and I was like, "What's her problem?" But then Lily looked at me very solemnly and asked "Who put it in my Easter Basket?" and that's when I realized my mistake.
Soooooo, that cat is out of the bag.
We stopped for lunch at Cold Springs Tavern. This was an old stagecoach stop with buildings dating back more than a hundred years. Even in the middle of the week there was a wait, but the food was worth it. While I was waiting, I overheard this kid tell his dad, "You know what I liked about that place? It was really dark. I like dark spaces." I wondered to myself whether that was a kid I'd want to get to know better or stay far away from.
After lunch, we headed to Santa Barbara where we toured the Mission, sat on the beach for a few hours, and then ended the day with a bowl of clam chowder on the wharf.
It was perfect.
And now I get a few weeks to enjoy the comforts of civilization before we head out and do it all again, this time through Utah. I'll try to get some decent posts in between now and then.... you know, the kind that don't ramble and that do actually have a point and purpose. Maybe all that fresh air messed up my creative thought. Or, maybe it was the campfire smoke. Or the vast amounts of Cheez-Its I consumed. All I'm saying is that I'm tired. And I'm sorry. I'll do better next time.
Have a good night!
 |
| Camping. |
There's this fantasy I have in my head that I'm on a game show, and I get to choose which type of vacation I want; one that is the nomadic style camping trip that we always do, or one in which I stay in one place for a full week at a luxury resort hotel. All I have to do is ring a bell on a tray near the kind of trip I want. I'd slam the bell for the luxury resort so hard that it'd fall through the floor.
However, camping is kind of Matt's religion and it is one of the few times I really get to see him relax. Plus, it's not something we have to save for over half a year, like, say... Hawaii. Therefore, a camping I will go.
This year was a bit different because it was the first year that we were dropping J off for camp. His brother and sister have been going away to this camp for years, and before last fall, J was excited for his turn to come. However, because J is J and because since babyhood he's exhibited his belief that life should mostly be hard, he changed his mind after we paid the non-refundable deposit. He spent the next six months riddled with anxiety over it, sometimes crying himself to sleep and repeatedly telling us that we didn't love him because we were forcing him to go to camp.
I almost just ate the deposit and gave in to him. Of the four, he's my kid that I worry about the most. It'd have been easier to keep him with me than to send him off and worry about whatever forces may cross his path at camp. He has allergies, he's not as mature as PG and 9 were when they first went, nor is he as outgoing. I had to keep reminding myself that one of my parenting philosophies is to never let my personal fears keep my kids from having experiences that are good for them. I think that's getting to be a lost art in these days of helicopter parenting.
Thankfully, sticking to our guns turned out to be okay. His sister and brother amped up their "camp is fun" campaign by repeatedly regaling him with stories about how much fun they had in the past. By the time we dropped him off, he was feeling better about the situation. In fact, he didn't want to hug us goodbye because all of his cabin mates were there and watching. (The kid across from him had a sound-effect machine with 32 sounds that he was really enthusiastic about, and all I can say is, sitting on a cactus would be more pleasurable than being in charge of eight boys in that particular age group for six whole days. God bless that counselor. I hope he survived.)
And then there was one.
If any of you other parents of multiple children haven't had a chance to spend some extended one-on-one time with each kid, I highly recommend it. It's kind of amazing how different kids are without their siblings around. (I think science has mentioned that fact once or twice before.)
We had fun. We camped in Sequoia for two nights at Stony Creek. You want to know what I learned about stony creeks? It's not a good idea to climb around them in flip flops because you may fall on your ass. Twice.
 |
| This picture commemorates the last time I did NOT have pain in my rear or my wrists. |
A bit.
A very tiny bit.
After Sequoia we headed to Lake Cachuma, and stopped at Madonna Inn on the way. If you haven't been to Madonna Inn, it's a huge hotel tucked in at the backside of the Hearst property in San Luis Obispo. When I was a kid, I thought it was the height of fanciness, but now the decor just looks to me like a weird marriage of Swiss Chalet and Las Vegas Tacky. Still fun to visit though, if for nothing but old time's sake.
 |
| This is not an exaggeration. The dining room seriously looks like this. |
The next day was the best day of the entire trip, with the exception of a small blunder in the morning: Roo and I were in a chocolate shop in Solvang when she asked if we could buy some marzipan. I told her "Honey, you don't want that. I put it in your Easter Basket one year and you didn't like it." Right away, the lady behind the counter looked at me with an expression that said, "You stupid, stupid woman." and I was like, "What's her problem?" But then Lily looked at me very solemnly and asked "Who put it in my Easter Basket?" and that's when I realized my mistake.
Soooooo, that cat is out of the bag.
We stopped for lunch at Cold Springs Tavern. This was an old stagecoach stop with buildings dating back more than a hundred years. Even in the middle of the week there was a wait, but the food was worth it. While I was waiting, I overheard this kid tell his dad, "You know what I liked about that place? It was really dark. I like dark spaces." I wondered to myself whether that was a kid I'd want to get to know better or stay far away from.
After lunch, we headed to Santa Barbara where we toured the Mission, sat on the beach for a few hours, and then ended the day with a bowl of clam chowder on the wharf.
It was perfect.
And now I get a few weeks to enjoy the comforts of civilization before we head out and do it all again, this time through Utah. I'll try to get some decent posts in between now and then.... you know, the kind that don't ramble and that do actually have a point and purpose. Maybe all that fresh air messed up my creative thought. Or, maybe it was the campfire smoke. Or the vast amounts of Cheez-Its I consumed. All I'm saying is that I'm tired. And I'm sorry. I'll do better next time.
Have a good night!
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