I'm not ready for reality

As much as summer is a slow rut in the fast pace life I prefer to live in, it is a welcome break when we actually get to vacation.  Today, we are back, and I am not ready to slip back into the doldrums of reality.  I am boycotting my dishes.  It is hard to come back to reality when you have just spent four days in this;

This one sums it all up.

Sunny Summer Reading List Unread

The Midwest has been uncharacteristically cool thus far.  Today, it is in the 60's.  We had merely a week with 80 degree temperature.  The weather is pleasant, and punctuated by increasing numbers of mosquitos after frequent rain.  A few scattered sunny days have helped us recognize summer, somewhat. However, the lack of sun this summer in the Midwest has been discouraging in many ways.

1) Sunny days are the very definition of summer: warm, glowing, happy.

2) Sunny days means more water play: when it is hot one must cool off.

3)Sunny days means less clothing and more tan skins.  Tan skin = happy face (literally, I don't look as pale and sickly, the undertones in my skin were made for tanning)

4) Sunny days means more time away from the house that is never tidy during summer break because kids live in it full-time.  More time away from the house means less guilt for the lazy housewife who could never dream of keeping up with the entropy that travels in company with children.

5) Sunny days means kids are happy to be wet, in water, and I am happy sitting with a book reading, glancing over the top of the pages to make sure all head are accounted for above water.


No sun = no fun AND longer reading lists that are NOT getting shorter.

I stock piled books that I know I need to read for my thesis and looked forward to reading them lakeside on many a sunny day.  Only one has made it away from the shelf, a couple of others have gone for a few walks, but mostly, they sit also waiting for more sunny days this summer. 

Riding the 3rd Wave: Feminism in the 21st Century

I believe we have all heard the phrase "standing in the shoulders of...." which generally implies that our current lifestyle is indebted to some brave forerunner.

Imagine now how our 3 inch heels are digging into the shoulders of our fore-mothers who broke out of kitchens and doll-house conditions to give us the right to vote, wear pants, get a job, and speak our mind?  Not to say you can't be an activist in heels, I just hope that is not the only way we are wielding our 'femininity' to our benefit (surely a swanky outfit can sway minds, but let's see if your minds can sway a bit more than.....hormones).

As I have been researching the recent history of feminist movement - movements toward equal pay for women, legal rights being increased for women on university campuses to prosecute their attackers, recognition of trafficking within the US and around the world - I have been proud to be a woman amongst so many powerful women.  Granted, my battlefield is small and my mega-phone may not reach as many ears, but we all have influence within our own sphere - even if that means teaching our daughters upon which shoulders we are standing.

I have been reading Betty Friedman's "Feminine Mystique."  Betty does a phenomenal job at giving an overview of historical events, gendered injustices, and the continued subversion of women.  Admittedly, there are parts of Betty's assertions that I think get a bit fantastic (let's have a convo about it and I'll show you where), but overall the presentation of data and research is impressive.

It is the cold hard facts that we need to remember.  We still have work to do, and we still have a sphere of influence in which we can stretch our wings, even if we never get to fly.  Be brave.  Have courage.  Let us speak for ourselves and get what we deserve.  We needn't get caught up in the labeled hype (created by men and women alike) of what it means to be a feminist; just be a woman amongst women.  And men, join the cause, don't take the privilege you are given as a "God given right."  Teach your sons to be better.  We all have a sphere of influence so wield your powers for good where ever you are.

p.s. if you want to have a convo about what it means to be a Mormon woman and a feminist, I would be happy to talk on that subject too, outside of fMh.

I just cleaned that place up!

Mother nature should really know better than to do a sister such a dis-service.

BEFORE

AFTER

 I enjoy doing yard work - that is, yard work of my own creation.  I have enjoyed creating several new flower beds in my yard this year; thinning out bulbs and planting new ones.  I love the park-esque feel of our yard with large green spaces and shaded tree areas.  The kids can play baseball, soccer, frisbee, whatever they like while I enjoy digging in the dirt.

I love watching them play on the well manicured lawn, and yes, I take much longer mowing the lawn than needed. It is not bad to leave the clippings in the grass but I do not like the grass sticking to their feet and coming inside. Plus, the more I mulch the greener.  May be a bit OCD about yard work.

I spent several hours getting rocks out of this front bed more as a therapeutic measure to avoid depression than an actual need to be meticulous.

 The beginning of this summer in Indiana has been wet and windy.  Wet and windy.  I have come to understand this is Nature's way of pruning the trees and topping the really big ones.  I just do not appreciate the messes in my yard.

Saturday morning Danny wakes me with "there is a lot of wind Mom.  And there is a tree on our trampoline."

We left all the branches and trees on the ground Saturday because it was so soggy outside after torrential rains and Josh needed to help de-flood the basement at our rental.  We hoped for sun in the next few days.

Sunday was sunny, and with rain in the forecast for Monday, we got our 'ox out of the mire' while we could and clipped and hauled branches away.  Josh was having trouble with his chainsaw, perhaps a curse of trying to work on the sabbath, so we just stripped the tree to it's bareness. 

Tramp frame is bent, but the mat is not ripped.  We'll have to figure out how much to invest in fixing that. 

 We got it cleaned up. We figured out the *obvious* problem with Josh's chain saw on Monday and set to work beneath threatening skies. All the logs are stacked tidily outdoors.  It is raining again today. I keep waiting for summer to come.  I think I will protest doing any more yard work until lit does come.  I already have issue with with all the eternal messes I have to clean up with kids being home all day, much less adding 'nature' to the mix; I'm just not that ambitious.

The kitchen was clean when I went to bed, but the time I got down to the kitchen the next morning - it had been attacked by the other 4 people in this home and left for me.  So very thoughtful.  

What do you remember of summer vacations?

The first week that the kids were out of school we set off to start summer vacation off with a family vacation.  For a decade I have planned and executed family vacations, but this year I was too busy with school work to think of it and Josh was bored at work.  Josh wanted a family vacation like he had had when a kid: camping.  I am not opposed to camping.  So he 'planned' a little road trip south to Mammoth Caves National Park.  He did quite a bit of research and I only asked peripherally about how the plans were shaping up.  Rule #1 of delegation - if you give them the job, let them do it all even if it means somethings may not turn out so wonderful.  I could see a few hitches in the giddy-up, but hey, live and learn.  And learn we did.

We learned that vacationing in the first week of June is wonderful in that there are hardly any tourist,s but a bit unfortunate because all the tourist places are taking a break form Memorial Day crowds before the summer crowds turn up.  That translated into only 2 of the 6 tunnel tours being offered and all the naturalist hikes being cancelled.  We had booked 4 nights of camping at Mammoth cave but found after one day that we had maxed out on 'things' to do.  Josh and the kids were happy to ride their bikes around the campsite and play catch.  My body was not particularly happy with the weather conditions nor the meal options.  Josh had planned the meals, not forgetting that I couldn't eat certain inflammatory substances, but not remembering either.  That meant that for two days my diet consisted of beef.  Beef and Cheetos's.  Sounds like a bad two-year-old menu.  Rolling into day three we realized that camping further in the dank and cool (70 degrees in high humidity = aches for fibromyalgia) was not going to be awesome.  I was willing to troop it out, but frankly there as no more to do at Mammoth Caves.  

Do visit Mammoth Caves, it is phenomenal!  Of course we don't have pictures of anything underground, it was dark and no flash photography allowed.  After living my life in the west with all sorts of lava tubes and sandstone formations I was fascinated by the limestone caves.  I was 'geeking out' the whole time.  If I hadn't been an English major I would have happily spent my academic career looking at rocks as a geologist.  Mammoth is not famous for the dripstone formations (we had seen some of the worlds' best at Meramec Caverns in Mo. on our way up to Indiana) but for the sheer length of the tunnel - over 400 miles charted and 600 miles more expected.  That's amazing! But you can visit their website without me having to gush about it all. If there is a next time we visit we will be in cabins and bring mountain bikes (we are gonna wait till the kids are older so we can do more spelunking).

 Even though I was achey the whole time, Viv spent 30 minutes pouting in the visitor center because she didn't want to answer questions about bats, and Faith peed her pants half way through the historic tour,  what will remember most about camping at Mammoth Caves?  Probably riding our bikes and all sleeping in the same tent.

On we went, south, to Nashville Tennessee.  We had planned to make a day trip of it, but with the unfortunate events of Mammoth, we turned our Tennessee time into two nights in a hotel.  We rushed into town to get some real food and visited the Grand Ole' Opry.  Again, because of being in the 'between season' stage there weren't just fun family things going on at Opry as we had hoped and we weren't staying through the weekend to mash our small kids not a large concert of Little Big Town or Rascal Flats.  So the exterior was all we got of that; well, pictures with large guitars and lessons on overpriced souvenirs.

 The kids at their own spending cash this vacation from their own work which is a wonderful way to learn financial independence, but a grueling and non-stop litany of smallish children bringing up some of the most ridiculous garbage way over priced and saying with big doe eyes "can I buy this Mom?"  It's there money, so I can't just say NO! which is what any reasonable person should say in a souvenir shop (particularly at the Opry when you haven't seen a show or do not know more than two names of country artists past of present).  As it is their money, and their agency, I have to tell them in a severe whisper that a $5 pencil is no better than a 25 cent pencil we could get back home.  They pout a bit and put it back and I push them out of the gift shop to the sidewalk where I can explain the emotional appeal of souvenirs and how such shops get away with raking money out of emotionally charged tourists.  This repeated itself EVERYWHERE we went on this trip.  Exhausting, and I don't think it actually was a lesson learned, yet.   Is that what they will remember of visiting Nashville?

I will remember the dinner we ate at the Opry Hotel.  It was overpriced mexican food, but it was real food in a beautiful location.  The kids will probably remember that we went to a park with an odd old building, the Parthenon, and they got to pose with pillars.

 Danny rarely gets cranky on vacation, but this was one night where we were up late and he had not had enough dinner at the overpriced mexican restaurant.  Add to that there were not readily available restrooms so he had to be rushed off to a remote bush again, did not make him the most pleasant at the Parthenon.

The next day in Nashville was a bit more fun.  We visited The Hermitage, the farm/plantation of Andrew Jackson.  I am sure if Josh had not been in the medical field (for the money) he would have been an American history major.  He has read a biography of most of the American Presidents and loved Andrew Jackson.  Really, Andrew is one of the top 5 presidents of the US.  Who else do you remember?  I really appreciated that the audio tours kept the kids engaged throughout the entire morning without having to complain to me and I could listen to all the tracks from Rebecca Jackson's perspective.  I am intrigued by the history of the south and learning how slavery was justified for so many years even by very well meaning people. I believe I figured out the culprit for the continued inhuman use of black as slaves - the foreman.  That guy was in the worst position ever between the owner and the slaves.  He made it possible the genteel master to be benevolent and for the slaves to revolt which pegged him as the one with the whip.  I'm not saying any of it was right, and certainly my position as a white woman doesn't help me understand the culture or perspective of persecution justifiably, it was certainly a lesson on what may have contributed to the problem.

The Hermitage has about 90% original furniture and construction, that is amazing in itself.  The grounds are lovely and this was one place we were very happy that we visited in the early summer months because we could wander around the grounds without being punished by the sweltering summer heat.  Viv told us that if she had lived back in Jackson's time she would have been slave.  We assured her she was not African American - but it made me wonder about legitimacy of any brown skinned persons.  At any rate she did act as though we had punished her and had her headphones taken away and made sullen march out of the last 45 minutes of our visit at the Hermitage.  We probably won't remember that part.  I will remember how every night Andrew Jackson would go out to his wife's grave and sit with her for 30 minutes or more.

We spent the afternoon popping around downtown Nashville for some authentic music.  We did not pay to go in the Country Music Hall of Fame (again, of you do not know 2 famous country singers before you go in, it is likely you will not appreciate reading wall plaques about people you don't know, especially if you only have a 3rd grade reading level).  Viv was content to see Taylor Swift's name on the wall outside.  She was convinced the entire time we would walk around the corner and see her.  Faith just liked to tap her toes to the music of the live band music coming from every open bar on Broadway (although she did not like when we went into one for a moment to listen to Honky-Tonk because it smelled to thickly of alcohol) and Danny was intent on getting a loose tooth out during lunch, which he succeeded in doing by the end of the meal.    Those events were memorable indeed, but what I will remember is that night in the hotel.

Best parts of vacation are not at the tourist sites.

 We made our way back north with a trip past Abraham Lincoln's birthplace in Kentucky.  Inside this impressive structure is a log cabin that was taken apart and put back together to display around the US as the birthplace cabin of Lincoln.  Later it was discovered as a fake, but it was built inside the structure and now is a 'replica' of the cabin he was born in.  The most fascinating fact; because they rebuilt that little cabin so many times, someone came up with the idea of children toys that you could put together.  And that is the reason that for the first 5 years of my kids' lives they called the 16th president of the United States President Abraham Lincoln Log.

Our final vacation stop was at Churchill Downs, home of the Kentucky Derby.  The were running qualifying races and we watched 4 good races.  Josh was intent on teaching the kids the financial ruin of gambling and had them root for a horse each race with an ice cream wager.  Only on the fourth race did Josh let them box their picks to get an ice-cream.  

Some day we will go back with fancy hats.  We did get free fake tattoos promoting American Pharaoh who won the Triple Crown the next day - first time since 1978.  Pretty historic.  Not that we saw American Pharaoh, but we got an idea of where he ran and how big the jockey's were (we had Faith walk next to one of the jockey's and she was only a couple of inches shorter than he).  At the end of an 'over budget' trip, will I remember that Josh and I were barely talking to each other at Churchill Downs because I thought the kids should be able to eat until they were full despite the cost of food and, budget forbidding, have some lemonade to quench their thirst.  Probably not. They will most likely remember that we finished the 6th Harry Potter book on the drive home and are now in the last  of the series after a years worth of bedtime reading through the epoch take of Harry Potter.

So what do we remember of family vacations?  Sometimes we do recall the crummy parts as the standouts.  Sometimes we don't honestly remember anything more than the pictures tell us (which is why we are biased to only save the happy looking ones or the specifically posed ones).  They remember briefly that we went.  Although, at this point in the summer, three weeks removed from that vacation, the kids are just looking forward to the next vacation planned, and the next, and the next.  The past is behind us, time to move on.

Boston Marathon, "I Don't Have a Song for That"

Big news today was that the Boston Marathon Bomber said "I'm sorry."

Those words can heal.  As can music.

Boy turns 7.

I have allowed myself to enjoy the fact that my children are getting older.  In fact, having Danny turn 7 was a wonderful milestone for us all.  For some reason 7 seems like more of a turning point into 'big kid' than any age has yet.  It may be that my youngest is now a big kid without me having any reservations that my kids are growing too fast.  They are growing fast, and it is fascinating.

The cooler beginnings of summer made the lush outdoor decor match the indoor green strings that we all woke to as a celebration of Danny's day.  Did you know they make blow up balloons now with LED lights in them?  It seems a bit extreme, but too cool to pass up buying.  So we had glowing camo-green balloons around the house for days.  What a waste of technology in the end when we just popped them and threw them away.  Disposable birthday LED.  Couldn't we do more with innovation than make glowing birthday decor?

Part of the consciousness of turning into a 'big kid' is knowing that others should/will give you presents for your upcoming birthday; and you can now watch the calendar and become a steady alert system to ensure that no one forgets.  Although it is not my favorite to be told I need to buy someone a gift, I will admit that Danny's birthday seems to creep up on me every year and I had not put the requisite planning into a meaningful gift to have the time to buy it cheap on eBay.  He should have gotten a Hogwarts lego set,  the boy is meticulous about building things from directions and patient enough that he needs a big project.  Legos are expensive because they haven't gone out of vogue for decades (good job Lego marketing division).  We ended up getting a supplementary set to Danny's giant garage sale Kinex set.  What he really needs is more instruction books for Kinex, if anyone has those lying around.  He is not yet into the innovative stage of just building complex things on your own. 

But I digress, the big attraction was a new bike.  Danny knew it was coming because we had to take him to a bike shop to get him sized so as to properly buy a bike off Craigslist. The bikes he test drove at the shop were fancy - gear shifters, Shimano brakes and everything.  The used trade ins were $100+  oh no!  This kid grows 3-11 inches a year and shoes, bikes, shirts, anything sized will be grown past too soon with no younger brother to pass it on to.  I think he was disappointed a bit when he saw the Huffy bike we got him (new from Walmart, Indiana has some serious problems with pricing things on Craigslist).  I tried to build the excitement a bit more with a good scavenger hunt- which was Danny's suggestion.  Yep.  He told me where we should hide his presents, how he would like to find them via a good set of clues, and which gifts his sisters should get him.  He was sweet about it, not completely arrogant.  But let's be real - 6, 7, 8,....and I don't know how much longer this will go, but these ages are increasingly more ego-centric.  So he got a good hunt and a semi-good bike in the end. And I put a clue in the place he thought he would find it (the attic) and hid the real bike in the food storage room!

Dinner was after Church - which you may notice Danny has decided to gel his hair for now (big kid stuff).  He had requested a birthday breakfast; his favorite foods are German pancakes and "fluffy clouds" which is a hot cereal made with Cream of Wheat and egg whites.  For dinner we did a Sunday barbecue and ended it all with a wizarding cake.

I was super frustrated that I hadn't bought black licorice to make the glasses the cake, so I made due with some old sunglasses that we demolished all in the name of a Harry Potter face birthday cake.  I put the 7 candles along the scar line so the 'burned.' 

 Magical wand sparks around the cake for the 'blowing out,' which of course they just blew themselves out and Danny's spark-back candles decided they would follow suit and not come back to life.  That, or Danny really did a good job blowing them out.

That's my boy.  He's long.  He's eating a lot already.  He is kind hearted and a  bit emotional in this stage.  He doesn't like practicing the piano.  He is not excited about anything that involves reading, but if you read it to him he will have all sorts of hypothetical conversations about any topic.  He considers himself an expert on most sports and will teach you how to 'do it right.'  He still comes in every morning to give me morning cuddles, which conveniently coincide with when Josh leaves for work and when he would like me to make breakfast; although Danny is almost proficient at making his own scrambled eggs.  We love every bit of this boy.