A few weekends ago, my husband and I went away for the weekend. It was the first time we have left Mea. It is also the first time that we had gone anywhere just the two of us, since our honeymoon.
We really needed that trip. It was good for us. Mea lived, and although she was super pissed that we left her, she had lots of fun with her big sister, E1, her niece and her nephew, and the following night with her Aunt and cousins.
We didn’t really do anything that we couldn’t have done here, but going out-of-town made us spend time together. It was all good. We ate junk food and drank in the middle of the day, we went to a movie that was rated R, and last longer than an hour and a half.
We had fun.
When we got home, we picked Mea up, and went home and started our normal Sunday routine. I got laundry started, went to the grocery store, fed my family lunch and dinner.
I did notice that the majority of the clothes that I had sent for Mea to wear while we were gone was still clean, folded, and hadn’t been worn. When she was at her sister’s house, she claimed she didn’t have any shirts (she had two in that bag) and when she was at her Aunt’s house she swore that I hadn’t packed her any pants, to which my sister just told her to wear the pants she had worn the day before.
I am a little surprised that the grown-ups didn’t question this a little more, but whatever. She had at least two full outfits in each bag. We left Friday night, and came home Sunday morning. I totally over packed her, and it was for no reason.
After dinner, I went to help Mea get ready for her bath. She was being silly, super squirrelly, and was forcing me to help her get undressed. I get her pants off, and look at her feet.
She was wearing the same socks that I had helped her put on Friday morning.
They were once white.
They were about ten shades of brown when I peeled them off of her feet.
I posted something on Facebook about it, just being my normal smart ass self, giving my sister and E1 a hard time for not doing a very good job of Mea sitting.
The next morning, my Mom told me that she got the biggest laugh out of Mea not changing her socks.
She said that once she had a seven-year-old daughter, (duh, it was me) who she dropped off for a weekend camping trip for Brownies. Apparently, this daughter wore the same socks, underwear, and undershirt the entire weekend. They had gone hiking in the woods, and it had been muddy. They did stuff around the camp fire. Apparently, she even walked in only socked feet back and forth to the latrine a few times as well.
As we were talking I could hear the smile in my Mom’s voice, remembering this silly story of her seven-year old daughter being a dirty little piglet during her first camping trip.
I, of course, do not recall doing this. I do remember camping with Girl Scouts plenty of times, but I don’t remember my filthy socks.
It’s the little stories like this that I soak up and savor so much these days. I have a hard time thinking about all of the stories that I don’t know, or no longer remember, and how they could someday just be gone because I was too young to remember or notice, and my Mom may not be there to tell the story to me. How one of my children doing something silly like not changing her socks will remind my Mom of something similar that either I did, or that my sister did at the same exact age.
I hope to hear more of these.
Actually, I hope to hear all of these.
PS. Guys! I am writing again. Words come out when I come here! Thank you for sticking with me.
If you were a Girl Scout, you probably know the rest.
Mea is going to be joining a Daisy Troop. The leader called me the other night, and set up a brief parents meeting for Saturday. I think Mea should have lots of fun.
When I was in Girl Scouts, I remember having lots of fun. Making sit-upons, weird crafts for my parents, like those oranges with the cloves shoved in them all over, selling cookies, overnights at the mall, making friendship pins, and all kinds of other fun. Going camping, ugh. Okay, maybe that part wasn’t so great for me.
I’m not exactly known for my love of the outdoors. I actually have gotten better over the years. I’m not nearly as terrified of bugs as I was then. I can stand to sit around a campfire without having an asthma attack. I am not nearly as picky of an eater as I was way back then either. It seemed that our Girl Scout leader often made us eat kind of weird food. I remember eating some kind of weird egg, ham and cheese thing we made in a hollowed out orange over the campfire once for breakfast. The eggs tasted like oranges. I was not a fan, eggs should taste like eggs.
There was one summer when I went to Girl Scout camp, on my own, I think I was about nine-years-old. None of my friends were going to this particular camp, it was all about meeting new friends. I had never actually slept outside before. Ever. When we had camped with Girl Scouts in the past, I had been in a cabin or one of the big lodges, or the couple of times that my parents took us
dragged us camping we camped in a camper, they weren’t really big camping fans either. Not the same thing at all. The Girl Scout camp here, has special tents that are up on risers. The canvas is not attached to the ground, or even to the bottom of the wooden risers, all kinds of bugs and such would and could get into your tent.
I was mostly good, I had a pretty good time at camp. I liked swimming, and hiking in the woods. I enjoyed singing songs, and making crafts. It was a “bicycle riding” camp, and I think I nearly died on the big bicycle trip that we took, hello asthma, but after falling once or twice, and walking up a giant hill, I was even okay with that. I don’t know how the counsellors felt about me after that, but I still managed to have fun.
The second night, we had showered, brushed teeth, and had all settled into our tents for the night. There were four girls to a tent. There were cots that we put our sleeping bags on. I was really having trouble falling asleep. I have never slept well if I am not at home. Ever. (I still don’t.) So the other girls had all fallen asleep. I kept hearing things. I kept thinking I was hearing wild animals. I was praying to myself that those girls hadn’t snuck any food into our tent that would attract any scary creatures into our tent.
I kept hearing this scraping, and walking around. Then sniffing. It kept getting closer and closer and closer to me.
I was totally freaking out in my bed. I thought for sure something was going to come get me. I was too terrified to move. I was afraid if I made a noise whatever it was would jump up and bite me. It kept getting closer and closer, then it was UNDER! MY! BED! I could hear it down there!
My clothes were under my bed! My suitcase was down there. I think I left it open! I finally pulled out my flashlight, leaned over the mattress a little bit and flicked it on.
There was a baby raccoon asleep in my clothes! In my suitcase!
I never went to sleep that night. I thought it would wake up and bite me. I swear that someone told me that raccoons carried rabies. I was terrified. I didn’t really know what rabies was, but I had seen Cujo, and I knew that dog was MEAN!
So, I know that Mea will have fun in Girl Scouts. I am sure that she wouldn’t freak out even if a raccoon decided to sleep in her suitcase. She’s much braver than I am.
My short daughter was full of it this weekend.
She cracked so many one-liners at us, it was hard to keep track of all the good ones.
A few of my favorites this weekend were…
While playing frisbee with her Dad, she had caught two of the last three throws, “Ugh! I got a spare!”
While at the Iowa Cubs Baseball game, she kept waving and waving to the beer man. He finally stopped at our row, and asked her if she was thirsty. She said yes. If he would have had an O’Doul’s in there, I’d have bought one, just to mess with her.
She told me that she had hair on her legs, and could I please shave them for her. Um, no. Good thing she can’t reach my razor in the bathtub, otherwise I think she may have tried.
The three of us went out for dinner on Saturday night, where she played games on the bar video game thing almost the entire time we were there. Her Dad gave her one dollar, which should have gotten her only to about when the salads came to the table, but the bartender (family friend) and one of his customers (old Italian guy) kept giving her dollars over and over again. It was almost like we were on a date, we’ll have to remember that next time…:)
Then there was this, which totally cracked me up.
On Friday night, I noticed that Mea’s wiggley tooth was oh, so wiggley. Beyond just a little bit. After much, crying and coaxing, I finally convinced her to let me tie a piece of dental floss around it. I got the dental floss tied to her super wiggley tooth, and then she started to freak out. She didn’t want me to pull it, she didn’t want to pull it herself either. While she was starting to go on and on about it, and get worked up, I gave it a quick yank. Out flew the tooth, onto my shirt. She just sat in disbelief for a couple of minutes. She couldn’t believe that I had gotten it out, and that it didn’t even hurt.
Once we got it to stop bleeding, I gave her a popsicle and all was right with the world.
Aside from the little bit of blood from where her tooth was, I just love this picture. She just looks so pretty, my big brown-eyed girl.
In the past we have always, “hosted” the Fourth of July, with my family. Our house is small, so warm weather holidays are usually saved for our house. We have a nice yard, a large driveway, when it’s cool enough outside, we have a three season porch.
Three years ago, we switched things up. My sister, brother-in-law, and husband decided we should go camping over the Fourth. Please, read that correctly, THEY decided. I am not the world’s best camper. I will go, I will tolerate it. I do like the fire, I like the food for the most part. I miss my bed, and bathroom like nobody’s business.
So we camped in 2009, for the first time. It rained the entire weekend. No fireworks near where we camped due to the monsoon.
Last year, we camped, but this time we were in cabins. Much better than tent camping. The issue this time? My brother-in-law’s mom, grandma, and some cousins had a cabin as well. Everything was kind of a three-ring circus. Did I mention that of the five days we were there that there was only one day in which the sun came out? Also, fireworks, festival, etc, was rained out, and cancelled. No fireworks show, again.
Last year, when we were all there we talked about doing it again. Hoping for better weather of course, but it was still mostly fun. My BIL’s grandma, stated that she would reserve the cabins. It was a year away, suddenly when she went to book the cabins, there weren’t enough for my parents or for my family. I kind of wonder.
On June 20th, my sister called, and suddenly there were two open cabins. We declined to go. Nothing like being invited at the last-minute, and who was going to be able to get time off, board the animals, etc. We decided to go to the Cubs game, and watch the fireworks there.
I really anticipated that Mea would be bored silly by the game. She wasn’t at all. She cheered, she watched, she did “the wave.” She had a great time. We left the stadium, and chose to watch the fireworks from the tailgate of my SUV. We avoided the crowd getting out of there, and actually had the best seats ever for the fireworks.
After not having seen fireworks at all since she was two years old, my girl freaked. Not in a good way. She was absolutely petrified. Hid behind me, and refused to watch. She was so scared she had nightmares all night. Not good. She wants to go back and watch a game, have a beer, and eat some cotton candy, but “No fireworks, Momma. Day are too loud and scawy.”
I guess we now know what scares the fearless one. I just have to figure out a way to threaten her with fireworks…
>This is the time of year that I always dread. It’s time to go camping with the family. Somehow, the Fourth of July has turned into a camping holiday, and I really wish that it could go back to being a picnic in my driveway/backyard, and some fireworks.
Somehow, last year, my husband and brother-in-law, got to plan this holiday with a camping extravaganza, over the Fourth of July weekend. Considering that last year’s camping trip was kind of a bust, I can’t believe that we are doing this again. Then again, it’s not really their fault that it rained the entire time we were camping last time. Fireworks in the rain even suck at home in the driveway.
This year, we are camping at some unknown location (no one tells me anything), a couple of hours away, in cabins (with air conditioning! and a mini fridge!) so that is better then trying to cram four adults and a four year old into a tent. Mack is bringing a friend with us, so she won’t be too bored, and Mea will have her cousins to cause all kinds of mayhem with. I suppose that since we are in the cabins, it should be better.
I’d rather camp at the Hilton, but that’s just my preference. I’m not really an outdoorsy type. I don’t really like to get too dirty. I like the smell of the campfire, but I don’t like to smell like it myself.
We are going into a small town on Saturday for their Fourth of July parade, carnival, and fireworks. When my sister and I were kids this is what we always did. My parents have a classic car, and we were always IN the parade with their car club, and it was so much fun. I remember going to the carnivals, and eating junk food, and playing games and things, and staying for the fireworks. I hope that our kids have as much fun as we are remembering it to be.
The best part about camping? Smores. That’s what I’m looking forward to. I’m pretty sure that is what is for dessert every night we are gone. I’m sure we’ll all be sick of them by Sunday night, but it’s totally once a year food. A little over indulgence never hurt anyone.
I hope everyone has a super safe and fun Fourth of July. Maybe I’ll come out of this weekend loving camping, but somehow, I think I’d still rather stay at a hotel…