Monday, August 31, 2009

Oh, good heavens!

As a kid, I attended Sunday School for several years (at least through communion-age, since I remember earnestly practicing the Lord's Prayer...and making the bread!). I'd have to check with my own mother on this, but I believe I probably started giving her a hard time (even though I'm sure in all other ways I was a charming, LOVELY pre-adolescent girl), until she just gave up on dragging me to church. In a roundabout fashion, I eventually found my way back: I had started my religious life as a Lutheran, but ended up choosing a Jesuit college (and whatever your feelings about Catholicism, they offer a mass approximately every 10 minutes, so it's completely easy and accessible!) Even more recently, I landed at the local Methodist congregation, when I enrolled Derek in their preschool. Pastor, Reverend, Father, mass, service...I'm not as concerned with denomination or vocabulary as I am with my boys having some solid faith-based instruction.

And while all that sounds very sober and serious, Derek and Riley seem to have more fun on Sunday mornings than I ever did! Snacks (cross-shaped cookies!), crafts (color a picture of Jesus healing the sick!), Veggie Tales videos...the Class Leaders cleverly weave lessons into "play time" and everyone enjoys themselves while absorbing the Bible.

You know there has to be a punchline, right? Here it comes: the other morning at breakfast, Riley was talking about his own upcoming birthday and the presents he wanted. I don't even know how he made this leap in his head, but suddenly he paused with a thoughtful look and said, "If it was God's birthday, I'd get him a cell phone." Oh--kay, I'll bite: why? He seemed surprised that I couldn't figure it out myself as he answered, "So he could send text messages to Jesus!"

So let us end by giving thanks for technology...and goofball children!

Friday, August 28, 2009

Chew on This...

In the bygone baby days, it took me an hour of careful packing and planning to get out of the house with the kids. Diapers, wipes, teething rings, toys, blankies, extra clothes, bibs...and snacks. How I do NOT miss that routine. We've been able to do away with most of the stuff, but my growing boys still require sustenance every few hours to keep them motoring happily along. So nowadays I grab our refillable water bottles and some cereal bars as we head out the door on our adventures.

My record on remembering the edibles has been pretty spotless, but it was bound to happen sometime...we were just finishing up our exploration of the Port Discovery Children's Museum in Baltimore...approximately an hour away from our pantry at home...at 4:00 (PRIME stomach-rumbling time), and I was caught empty-handed. This is like a McDonald's commercial waiting to happen, right? Not for this mom! I had already spotted vending machines in the lobby, one of which was even labeled "Healthy Snacks", almost as though they expect nutrition-obsessed mothers to frequent this type of educational museum (hey, wait a minute...)

Before the little monsters could even build up a good head of steam to start clamoring for food, I quickly interjected the snack machine tidbit. Derek's mouth dropped open in mock astonishment. With a grin that split his entire face, he said, "REALLY? Are you sure? I mean, this isn't like you at all!" I hadn't even begun to formulate my retort when he continued, "Are you even our mother?" And for his grand finale, he raised his voice slightly, turned around in circles, and called, "Help, I think we're being kidnapped; she's letting us have junk food!" (Riley, meanwhile, was staring in wonder at the contraption, trying to figure out how to get food from it. I guess we missed this lesson somewhere along the way...)

So, I learned two things from this experience. One: Derek has made tremendous strides in employing sarcasm for humorous effect. Two: all of the lecturing--I mean instruction, of course--about eating properly, etc. etc. has at least made SOME impact. Oh, and also: don't forget to bring the Fiber One bars!

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Action on--and off--the Field!

When you imagine the traditional Rites of Passage, you might think of learning to ride a bike, or starting grade school, or getting your first job. In our family, "attending your 1st Orioles game" also counts as an important milestone on the road to growing up. Derek, being the first child, was toted along in a Baby Bjorn when he was about 3 months old. And he has since sat through countless innings with rapt attention, tearing his eyes away from the action only to ask for more food. With the second child, however, our attendance dwindled, due to cost, and logistics, and Riley's lack of interest in holding down a stadium seat for a 3-hour sporting event.

Finally this year he began asking when he would be allowed to go to a game. (you know, it's all about what my brother gets to do, and why I can't do it also!) With only slight foreboding, we agreed. We even picked a giveaway day, so at least the boys would be handed something to play with on the way in (nobody cares what's happening down on the field, as long as they have their free WebKinz). And what do you know, Riley--if not watched the game--at least sat in his seat and behaved like an actual fan for 8 innings! (This is even more impressive when you consider that it was approximately 900 degrees that day...and humid!)

It was a very important game, too. Not because of the Orioles, 23 games below .500 in dead-last place, but because in about the 5th inning Riley turned to me and said, "Mommy, I lost my tooth in my cup of ice!" Sure enough, that very first little baby tooth, loose for at least a month, was looking up at us from among the free ice chips they give away on hot summer days at Camden Yards. What can I say, I'm a mom, so I of course clapped and squealed with delight, as if he'd done something much more remarkable than biting into an ice cube. Maybe I made more noise than I thought, or maybe the game was just that dull, but everyone in our section turned to see, and spontaneously gave a congratulatory cheer.

So, my "baby" turns 6 tomorrow, minus one tooth, but with a cool memory to show for it (not to mention his stuffed Oriole-bird toy)! It will be just fine with me, though, if the other 19 teeth are not quite as dramatic!

Friday, August 21, 2009

Even WORSE than beer ads (if you can believe it!)

This morning, after the coffee kicked in, I was ready to tackle my list of phone calls for the day (best to do this early, since it's the chore I despise most. As the day wears on, my motivation wanes and it gets put off for another day...or another...you get the picture!)

Anyway, I had a few quick questions for the pediatrician, so I checked that one off first. Afterwards, just making conversation (or thinking out loud; I do that A LOT), I informed the boys that we could get their flu vaccinations at the end of September this year. "Can we get the spray," Derek asked with trepidation in his voice, "or do we have to have a shot?" I swiftly assured him that he could have FluMist again...but the exchange was interrupted by my 6-year old's sudden bark of laughter. Derek and I turned our puzzled faces to him and he explained himself: "So we won't get sick, and we can go to the bathroom all we want?" You see, FLOMAX is prescribed to men with prostate problems, to--um, how to put this delicately-- alleviate urinary difficulties. (And no, my son, that's definitely NOT the one you'll be getting.)

At least I don't have to guess where his train of thought came from this time: the commercial for that drug shows up with great frequency during...Orioles games. (Along with the ones for ED medications. What does that say about men who watch baseball?) This is depressing; not only does my team stink, but my children are picking up inappropriate medical information while watching. Give me those good old toy and candy ads any day!

Monday, August 17, 2009

Yep, we're just RABID about hiking...

Giddy with the success of our inaugural hike, we decided to hit a local park on Saturday for a pleasant walk around Lake Needwood. At one point I drifted ahead of the boys, who were deep into some kind of Nature Lecture given by my husband. (He lives for this sort of "educational moment in the woods." Me, I'm just here for the landscape...)

On the broad, gravelly path, I approached what at first glance appeared to be a heartwarming family scene...a father out walking with his two young sons, pushing his infant daughter in her stroller. Suddenly, one of the boys held up a hand in warning, calling in his little voice, "Stop! Don't come closer!" My pace slowed automatically as I scanned the area, taking in more details--like the fact that the man was holding an animal down on the ground with a long, thick tree branch. The poor creature was an emaciated, raggedy, panting fox, and in a few quick sentences, my fellow hiker told me the story of how it had just bitten a lady...AND her husband. Now, I'm no Animal Expert, but I know what that means: a sick beast (I didn't even want to THINK the "R-word" at that point.) The lady who had been bitten, a pleasant grandmotherly type, sauntered back from calling the Park Police. She was calm...even chipper, like this was a thrilling Outdoor Amusement Park, and she had just ridden the Rabid Fox rollercoaster. (Her husband, at least, had the sense to look pale and shaken.)

Meanwhile, the baby had begun to wail, and my husband and sons had caught up and been filled in on the drama. I offered to have Husband take over the big stick, so the other dad could try to calm his rapidly-escalating little howler. So we waited tensely, all eyes locked on the miserable fox..except for the grandmother, who chirpily peppered my husband with questions to pass the time. Once she wandered back to me and stated confidently, "He's with the Red Cross, he'll take care of it." He was wearing his free Red Cross t-shirt from the last time he donated blood, so I ALMOST hated to disillusion her...but I thought honesty might be best, so I gently set her straight. Her smile never wavered, "Well, then, he's with the Park Police." "No, he's just my husband," I finally blurted. She seemed momentarily shocked, but recovered and continued chattering away conversationally. I had explained "rabies" to my kids while we were idling, so Derek turned to me and asked worriedly under his breath, "Do you think it's affecting her already?"

Finally we spotted the welcome red and blue lights of the Park Police cars as they slowly crunched up the trail towards us. When I had been thinking ahead to this moment, I envisioned an Animal Control Officer with heavy gloves and a box, to collect the fox and take it in for testing. However, the lady had of course already accosted the Officers for information, and she wandered back to cheerfully convey the news: "They're going to have to shoot it now." "Aahhh!" I screamed in my head, while hastily herding the boys further down the path away from the site. My husband, having been relieved of his stick, joined us at a near-run, but none of us was prepared for the sharp sound of one gunshot from behind us as we retreated. In the emotional moment, I could appreciate the irony: the presence of a probably-rabid fox I handled with ease, but the shot that put him down completely unnerved me.

So, I think that is QUITE ENOUGH natural excitement--and dangerous wild animals--for me for a while. Jeez, all I wanted was some scenery, and relaxing, enjoyable family time. But maybe everyone would be better off if I just stayed out of the woods altogether. Unless stress and a little terror enhances cardio-vascular conditioning...?!

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

If a tree falls in the forest...my kids probably did it

My husband and I are pretty outdoorsy people. Back when we were young, unencumbered, and spontaneous (read: pre-children), we would drop everything to spin away an afternoon on bike trails, or tromp through the trees for hours. The last few years, of course, have been somewhat of a waiting period--holding out for the kids to get big and strong enough to join us on Woodland Treks.

My sons are now 9 and 6, so we approached this past weekend in Shenendoah National Park as a little Nature Test, if you will. The boys did a 1.6 mile loop on Saturday and came back thoroughly pleased with their achievement--buzzing on mountain air and healthy exercise. On Sunday, we informed them they were ready to take on the Appalacian Trail (after explaining what this is, and assuring them we would NOT be hiking to Maine...or Georgia...not today, anyway!)

Stony Man Trail consists of dirt, gravel, larger rocks, and plenty of hills, and lies at about 4000 feet in elevation (darn--I knew we should have done High Altitude Training before we left!). The children skipped off in their worn sneakers, dodging rocks like hyperactive mountain goats. At the summit, overlooking the Shenendoah Valley, they clung to the boulders and peered over, as strong winds coming down from the cliffs buffeted them. (They were exhilarated, I was terrified by the whole "plunging to one's death over the edge" thing.)

All in all, we estimate that we did about 2-1/2 miles, maybe a little more. Sweaty, panting, dragging their tired feet, they nevertheless beamed with pride and accomplishment when we arrived back at the car. We dubbed them Official Junior Rangers. Now we can do real hikes every weekend! But with the kids involved, we'll want to bring boots, and hats, and energy bars, and water, and maps, and a compass, and sunscreen, and bug spray...I'd better start packing now...

Monday, August 10, 2009

...Bears! Oh my!

Those who know me, know I am a Nature Girl. I love to be outside...I commune with the trees...I am one with the creatures of the forest. So last weekend when we visited Shenendoah National Park, I seized the opportunity to spend as much time as possible soaking up the Great Outdoors. The boys had done a light hike before dinner, on a trail just outside our lodge. They came back high on mountain air, raving about the view from the Observation Point at the end of the path. Of course I had to see it for myself, so I set off alone when they got back. The trail wound into the woods, shaded, cool, and tranquil. After I passed a family walking their bouncy black Lab puppy, I had the path to myself.

I kept an eye on the ground, to avoid tripping over the large rocks strewn across the dirt walkway as I strode along, making very little noise in my running sneakers. I was SO quiet, in fact, that I was almost on top of the BEAR before I saw it. (Yes, that's him, on the right!) Now, I've done a LOT of hiking in my life, but I have NEVER stumbled on a real, live bear in the wild before. To an outside observer, I must have looked like a cartoon; I came to such an abrupt halt that I almost overbalanced and fell on my face. My heart felt like it stopped dead for a few moments. Then it crashed back to action, and pounded so hard in my chest I could both hear and feel it, and I was sure the bear could as well. I stood as if frozen, muttering some bad words under my breath, in utter shock. As my brain frantically kicked back into gear, memories started flashing across--of everything I'd ever heard or read about how to handle this situation. For instance: "Make noise while hiking, since bears will hear you and avoid the area." (Um, too late.) Next? "If a bear charges, lie down in a ball, hold very still, and pretend to be dead." (Why do I remember this? Well, hold that thought...)

This entire sequence lasted probably 5 seconds or so. Then I backed away very slowly, a few feet. He looked up at me. I stared back at him, trying my best to appear friendly and harmless. He seemed to decide I wasn't going to take his dinner. I concluded he wasn't going to eat ME. In this spirit of peace and understanding...I moved a little closer again to see if I could photograph him. I know, I know, so NOT following the Nature Rulebook. But there was no way I was leaving without trying, unless he charged me (I blame my misplaced "bravery" on Crazy Explorer Shows, courtesy of Animal Planet). After a few more chomps, he apparently had had enough of his Berry Buffet, and he lumbered off into the brush. A couple of deep breaths later, I was steady enough to continue on my way as well.

As Encounters with Savage Beasts go, it was perfect. Although a bear's meal was momentarily disturbed, he suffered no permanent damage. More importantly, there was no mauling of the Intrepid Adventuress. And even MORE critical: I returned with Proof and a Great Story, to gloat--I mean SHARE with my family and friends!

Thursday, August 6, 2009

Summer Vacation,Take 1: and...Action!

So to continue my train of thought from Tuesday, if a camera crew stumbled into our house and decided to film the scintillating events of our day for the delight of viewers everywhere, this is what they would experience:

8 a.m.--Derek and Riley clunk down the stairs and begin noisily rummaging in the cupboards and refrigerator for breakfast. They proceed to plow through cereal, yogurt, and fruit before they feel fortified enough to begin playing in earnest. I firmly avoid talking to anyone until I've had at least a few life-sustaining sips of coffee.

8:15--"Mom, we'll be outside skateboarding!" The inevitable slamming door drowns out my warning of "don't wake the neighbors!" Hopefully the cameramen follow the action outside, so I don't have to supervise in my pajamas...and I can be alone in the quiet kitchen...

9:00--Children race back inside for "second breakfast", consisting of whatever they haven't eaten already that morning. I veto Sun Chips as unsuitable for this time of the day, even though D sagely points out that "they have 3 grams of fiber, and no hydrogenated oil!"

9:30--"We're boooored, what can we doooooo?" Aha! So glad you asked! Here's your Summer Homework packet; let's tackle some awesome...word problems!

10:00--Finishing the assigned task, the boys immediately decide that it must be time for wrestling. Thie match ends abruptly and decisively with a tremendous THUMP and a cry of "OW!" The combatants are separated until further notice.

10:30-12:30--errands, errands, errands. Depending on where we're going, the boys are either bribed with a snack of their choosing, or threatened with solitary confinement if they don't behave appropriately in public.

12:45--Lunch. Is it time for them to eat ALREADY? Good grief, no wonder I can't seem to keep food in the house during the summer!

1:30--"Can we watch some TV?" Oh, yes you can. In fact, 2 shows ought to give Mommy just enough time for a little nap--I mean "doing extremely Important Stuff upstairs in her room."

3:00--"The neighbors are home! We'll be across the street!"

3:15--Slam, sniffle, stomp stomp stomp. Riley is back, red-faced and teary-eyed, proclaiming in a quavery voice, "Well, I've learned my lesson; NEVER play with my brother EVER again." Thus begins the daily counseling session entitled "Playground Battles and How to Survive Them."

3:30--Having expressed his hurt feelings and gotten his ego salved, Riley ventures back out for another round.

6:00--Time to feed the chowhounds...again. Husband comes home (if he's on time) and is given the job of corralling and cleaning the dirty, sweaty, possibly stinky boys. Mommy needs an adult beverage before she can even entertain the idea of scrounging up yet another meal today. (Are they allowed to show that? 'Cuz it's certainly reality!)

Wow, so much excitement packed into one short day. Of course, the post-production team will have their work cut out for them...like creative editing to reduce the number of times I am heard to say "Stop TOUCHING him! Keep your HANDS to yourself!" Or the incidences of Riley saying: "Derek's laughing at me!" Or Derek uttering his famous: "Stop TALKING to me right now!" And to think, we manage to get all of this accomplished without SuperNanny!

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Reality Show...or Real Life?

It seems that there's a reality show about absolutely EVERYTHING these days...whiny Rock-Star-Wannabes, Spoiled Starlets, Aging Child Stars Gone Bad. Maybe the viewing public is tired of watching episode after episode of sordid and shocking behavior. Perhaps the time has come for some wholesome entertainment about a Normal Family...like mine! Let's imagine how my life would play out on screen...

"the X files" (get it--X chromosome?--female? ha!): One woman stranded in a house full of testosterone, where (gasp) even the cat is male. She bravely navigates a sea of smelly socks, a plethora of poo jokes, and a mountain of messiness every day. (On second thought, nobody with a husband and kids would watch that, it's just TOO real.)

"Top Chef": The contestant (me) prepares meals she thinks are interesting, nutritious, and delicious. She chops, she mixes, she sautes, (she wipes her brow artistically) she presents a beautiful balanced dinner to the panel of judges, who proceed to offer insightful critiques such as "It's...um...great! Could you pass the hot sauce?" (husband); "I love it, can I have seconds?" (D) and "Eww, is that TOFU? I'll have some Cheerios!" (R)

"Big Brother, Little Brother": Siblings start the morning in perfect harmony, eating breakfast side by side, mapping out their exciting day. They skateboard together happily. They peacefully practice whiffleball. Things skid rapidly downhill from there, however, as by about 10 a.m., the fun and games have degenerated into: "I'm not talking to you for the REST of the day!" (slam) "You're being mean, I QUIT!" (stomp stomp) Each one votes that the other one get kicked out of the house. Mother overrules them...and within a half-hour they have utterly forgotten their argument and started on a new activity.

"Survivor, Maryland": The cast faces challenges that test their physical strength, mental toughness, and perseverance. They will be forced to...prepare their own toaster waffles! (points subtracted for burnt edges)...sort and fold their own laundry! (full scores for actually getting it all the way in the drawer)...cooperate with neighbors to build a backyard hideout using available cardboard boxes, twigs, and tarp! (extra credit for sneaking supplies out of garage without parents' knowledge). Tribal Council (aka Mom and Dad) calls the Losers in for dinner.

"Boy vs. Wild": The intrepid explorers must face the ultimate battleground: The Great Backyard. Along the way they must learn to identify and avoid poison ivy! They will be attacked by swarms of pesky gnats! (no Bug Spray allowed!) They will observe the natural wildlife of the region! (squirrel, groundhog, hawk, deer, fox, rabbit, cardinal, chipmunk, small dogs on leashes) They will under no circumstances eat anything they find on the ground, even if it looks like a perfectly harmless wild strawberry! (This program is sponsored by Moms Everywhere)

Tune in next time for more Adventures from a Regular Life!