Confused

We have a guest eating breakfast in the front room, and I honestly don't know if it is a man or a woman. Michael went out to say hi, and he can't tell either.

It's really none of my business. And yet, I find it strangely disconcerting not to know.

Where's that gender-neutral pronoun when you need it?

Little pitchers have big ears

This week, my driving CD has been a compilation of songs my dad put together for me a couple of years ago. It's an eclectic mix that includes, among other things, a song about a pirate who wants to sing and dance and a song begging Prince Charles not to marry Dianna.

(What can I say? It's the music I grew up with.)

I've answered a fair number of questions from the older kids about the lyrics, but I didn't think LW was old enough to pick up on any of it. Ha. In his defense, he did give me warning. The other day, we were driving along listening to John McCutcheon's Water from Another Time when LW pipes up, "Why them need water from 'other time?" I skipped right over the central metaphor and just stuck to trying to explain priming the pump. That conversation was difficult enough.

So I shouldn't have been surprised when he asked yesterday, "Mommy, what Chee-cago?"

Chicago? Why is he asking about Chicago? And then I heard the song playing. Bad, Bad, Leroy Brown, which starts out, "The South Side of Chicago is the baddest part of town." Mentally I flipped through the rest of the lyrics. Hmm. Gambler who flirts with another man's wife and ends up "like a jig saw puzzle with a couple of pieces gone."

That's the nice thing about CD players. You can quickly skip ahead to the John McCutcheon songs.

Herding

You know that saying about herding cats? I can top that. Hummingbirds are worse.

OK, so it was actually only one hummingbird, but he gave us quite a run for the money.

We woke up to find a hummingbird perched on a bundle of wire in our covered, screened-in porch. Thanks to Sammy and LW, we have large holes in the screens, but the birds who find their way in through the holes almost never find their way out through them. Usually, we just open the doors and wait for the birds to find those. But given how often hummingbirds need to eat, we were worried he wouldn't get out in time.

So we decided to help him find the door.

Easier said than done. It took both Michael and I, and we had to detangle him from the spider webs twice, but he finally flew out. Hopefully he'll recover from the stress.

And they're off!

EM left this morning for his sixth-grade field trip to Cape Cod. He'll return on Friday.

During the trip, they'll see Plimouth Plantation, have a whale workshop, ride on a fishing trawler, visit the Woods Hole Aquarium, go on a whale watch, spend time at the Cape Cod National Seashore, eat dinner at a seafood restaurant, and visit the Mayflower II.

He should have a great time, although I find myself stressing a bit about his packing. (He handled it all himself, and now I'm wondering Did he remember money for snacks? Did he want to take a disposable camera? Will he lose his lunch before he gets on the bus?)

Michael, who dropped the kids off at school and got to witness the energy first-hand, assures me he will be fine. I'm trying to believe him.

Trip to the nursery

Today IM, LW and I went to a local nursery to pick out some perennials for the annual bed. Yes, I know, that doesn't make sense. The previous inn owner was a more devoted gardener than I am, and she had one flower bed set aside for annuals.

Frankly, I have a hard time keeping up with the weeding, let alone any other garden chores, and it seemed I planted the annuals later and later every year. As a result, they looked worse and worse every year. This year, I got smart. Who says we have to have an annual bed?

So off to the nursery we went.

I asked NB if he wanted to come.

"Are you getting a Venus flytrap?"
Uhm, no.
"Well, are you getting any meat-eating plants?"

He decided regular plants were not worth the trip.

IM's job was to keep an eye on LW while I paced up and down the row trying to pick out plants. I am horribly indecisive about plants, and the fact that I'm really not sure what kind of soil I have only makes things worse.

IM, however, lucked out. Right at the end of the perennial section was a sandbox with lots of trucks. Lots of trucks and no other kids. There was even a chair right next to it for IM to sit on. It was the least stressful trip to a nursery I have had with kids.

Until I wanted to leave.

"Mommy, I don't want to go home! I want to stay here 'ever!"

Bye, bye snake

The snake wasn't eating, so despite the kids' tears, we returned him to the wild. It's a shame, because he was a great snake for the kids. Not very big and very comfortable being held.

Michael is trying to talk me into purchasing a California king snake. I think that's a little bigger than I want to go, but buying a snake would ensure we got one that would eat in captivity.

Do I look different?

I'm posting this from the new laptop Michael got me for my birthday. (No, you didn't lose a week; he gave it to me early.) Snazzy green cover and everything.

It's a complete indulgence, but I've been wanting a computer that is mine. The upstairs computer is largely used by Michael for writing and the boys for gaming. The downstairs computer is officially the inn computer, so I don't want to clutter it up with photos and such. It is also the main surfing computer for everyone in the family. And my work computer is for work. (Since I document software that tracks Internet usage, I am fully aware of my company's ability to see any surfing I do.)

So I've been thinking it would be nice to have a laptop that I could configure exactly how I want it. I've dreamed of surfing while sitting with Michael on the couch while he watches the Red Sox games. Of being able to download and organize all the photos. Of being able to stay signed onto my Google account without fear that Michael will post to his blog as me. (Hey, it's happened.)

And it just so happens that Michael needs a laptop for his yearly writing retreat to Toronto. He hates laptops the rest of the year, so I cheerfully offered to loan him mine for the week if I got one. I thought we were still in the convincing stage, but apparently not! Thanks, sweetheart.

Now all I have to do is figure out Vista . . .

New pet?

We have a tentative, as-yet-unnamed animal addition, a two-foot-long milk snake Michael brought back from a walk to the beaver pond earlier in the week. We have a cage, with a fake log for him to hide in and a water bowl. The cage sits on top of our dresser, and so far LW does not seem hell-bent on freeing him. The snake seems to have gotten over his initial scorn and eaten the frozen mouse we gave him.

So, we're cautiously optimistic. If he starts having feeding problems, we'll have to let him go, but we have located a source of live feeder mice, so we'll try that first.

Now for a name. IM has suggested the wildly original "Milky" but I'm not crazy about that. I thought something literary might be nice, but the only two I could come up with are Lucifer and Sir Hiss (the snake from Disney's cartoon Robin Hood). There's a snake in The Jungle Book too, whose name I can't remember, but he's also evil.

Any suggestions?

Siders and graders and roofers! Oh my!

It's been quite the week here at the inn.

We have new siding going up on the main building, so the guys putting that up have been banging away all week.

Yesterday the roofers arrived to replace the roof over our living quarters. Once that is finished, we should be done with roofing for a while. (We replaced the lodge roof last year, and the rest of the main building roof was replaced shortly before we bought the inn.)

Tuesday the grader came to smooth out the parking lot. LW was quite impressed by the tractor. Michael and I took turns sitting outside with him so he could have a better view. The grader even let him sit in the tractor, which made LW's week. It's nice not to have to dodge the potholes anymore, but I'll be glad when rain and use settle the dirt back down.

Next week, we have people coming to paint the lodge so it will be the same color as the new siding. It's great to see all the changes, but I'll be glad when it's all done and the banging is over.

Procrastination

There is nothing quite like the feeling of relief and accomplishment that comes from finally finishing an unpleasant task you have been putting off. Sadly I am all too familiar with this feeling.

Case in point: This week, I finally replaced the ceiling tiles in two rooms that were damaged by a leaky pipe in December. I had built the task up in my mind to take far longer than it actually did. Granted, it was unpleasant, but I accomplished it in about an hour. And although I enjoyed the feeling of crossing it off my list, that rush did not make up for the stress of dreading it for months.

On a list of things I would most like to change about myself, my tendency to procrastinate would definitely be in the top three. And yet . . . I continue to procrastinate stopping to procrastinate.

The Year of Living Biblically

This week I finished reading The Year of Living Biblically: One Man's Humble Quest to Follow the Bible as Literally as Possible by A.J. Jacobs.

I loved this book. I love the idea of the experiment, and I can relate to the issues he sees in the Bible:

. . . one of the biggest mysteries of the Bible. How can these ethically advanced rules and these bizarre decrees be found in the same book? And not just the same book. Sometimes the same page. The prohibition against mixing wool and linen comes right after the command to love your neighbor. It's not like the Bible has a section called "And Now for Some Crazy Laws." They're all jumbled up like a chopped salad.

During the course of the year, he tries to keep all the rules in the Bible (over seven hundred) but since it is too hard to focus on seven hundred things at once, he makes different commands the focus for a period of time. He tries to alternate the bizarre with the more mainstream.

He also comes up with the five Most Perplexing Rules:

• admonition to chop off the hand of a woman who grabs her husband's opponent's privates during a fight
• ban on wearing clothes of mixed fibers
• capital punishment
• circumcision
• rule to purify oneself by finding a red heifer

Jacobs spends the first 8 months focusing on the Hebrew Bible and the last four months focusing on the New Testament. Along the way, he talks with people from a variety of religious traditions.

An affirmed agnostic and skeptic, he tries to be open-minded, although not always successfully:

[speaking of the creationist book Noah's Ark: A Feasibility Study] The book is beautifully argued--and I don't believe a syllable of it. Which I know is counter to my quest. I had told Mark the publicist that I was coming in with an open mind, but while down there, I realize my mind won't open that far. I can understand being open to the existence of God and the beauty of rituals and the benefits of prayer. But the existence of a juvenile brontosaurus on the ark? And an earth that's barely older than Gene Hackman? I have to go with 99 percent of scientists on this one.

I also related to his reaction to Jacob and Esau:

The story of Jacob and Esau provides a classic example of the gap between, on the one hand, what the Bible literally says, and, on the other, the centuries-old layers of interpretation that have built up around those words.
If you read the Bible cold, as if you'd been raised on one of Jupiter's moons, you would, I'd wager, have this reaction: Jacob is a conniving scoundrel. And Esau, though maybe not a Mensa member, got a raw deal.

In summary, it's a great book. You should read it.

Fiddleheads, anyone?

It's fiddlehead season here in the Valley.

Last week's edition of the local paper had an article on fiddleheads, complete with tips on selecting, cleaning, blanching, and storing them. There are also two recipes: Pasta with Fiddleheads, Fresh Vegetables and Pesto and Fiddleheads and Carrots Fines Herbes.

Michael pointed out that we have quite a crop of fiddleheads on the property right now. I've been doing a lot of reading about local eating.

And yet . . . maybe I'll save the fern eating for next year.

We're Graduating!

The final act of the follies last night was a song by the 6th graders, sung to the tune of Get Me to the Church on Time. Because it's so indicative of our wonderful school, I thought I'd post the words. (Non-grandparents, feel free to skip this post.)

We're graduating in a few weeks
Oh my our mothers all will cry
We've gotten smarter
Learned to try harder
Thank you W____ School
Good bye

Since we've been here we've learned cool things
Our imaginations all have grown
Sap to maple syrup
Claire's pizza makes us cheer up
Thank you W____ School
Good Bye

We've learned math facts and long division
Spelling, reading, oh my yes, revision

We've slept in lean-to's and museums
Hiked tall mountains in the snow
Danced, juggled, painted
From the heat we've nearly fainted*
Fed unsuspecting mice
Fed unsuspecting mice
Fed unsuspecting mice
To eager snakes

We've dressed like immigrants and Greek gods
Eaten food from Athens and beyond
Skied every Friday
Cooked for Harvest Dinners
And learned to say "bon jour"
In French

The teachers all have taught us to be patient
To think a problem through to the very end
When we don't get it
We don't shout "Forget it!"
We patiently go back and try again

From our first writings to our last reports
From counting numbers to graphing sports

We're graduating in a few weeks
Oh my our mothers all will cry

We've gotten smarter
Learned to try harder
Thank you W_____ School
Thank you W_____ School
From deep down, thank you W____ School
Good bye!

* No, they're not complaining about the outside temp. I have yet to see a school that didn't have wacky heating and cooling issues, and our building is no exception. The second story rooms are sweltering.

Not done with the stomach bug yet

Last night was the Spring Follies at the school. It's a huge fund raiser for the sixth-grade field trip to Cape Cod. There is a dinner, a talent show, and a raffle.

I was on the dinner committee and spent several hours Tuesday afternoon making lasagna and marinara sauce at the school kitchen. Yesterday, I got to school at 3:00 and was busy preparing, serving, and cleaning up until the show started at 7:00. Two acts into the show, NB raced into the bathroom. Michael leaned over to whisper that NB had to throw up. NB said he felt fine, and didn't feel feverish, but by intermission, he'd done it a second time, so I sent Michael home with the three younger kids. (EM was in the last two acts and so couldn't leave early.)

We had one more incident to deal with shortly after I got home (it's really not a good idea to let a sick child sleep in the top bunk, even if he insists he feels better . . . ), but he seems fine this morning.

Anyone want to play Guess Who's Next? Michael has his vote on IM.

And I thought service was bad before

Our state is notorious for bad cell phone service. Well, notorious among the locals at least. It comes as a complete shock to many of our guests, who do not hesitate to let us know how they feel about it.

Still, we've learned to adapt. I've pretty much figured out where I get service and where I don't, and I've adjusted my expectations accordingly. (Although I continue to be amused that I get better service in, say, Arches National Park than I do at my kids' soccer games.)

But today, it appears, the entire cell phone network is down. When I dial my provider I get a message that the following services are not working: mobile to mobile, mobile to land, land to mobile. That pretty much covers it.

No, we can't hear you now.

Ten reasons to travel with kids

I recently read an essay in Parents magazine in which a father explained why he travels with his kids. (Or tried to. To be honest, his kids sounded like beastly travelers and I'm not sure it would be worth it to travel with them.)

Traveling with kids can be hectic and exhausting. And the day I return from one trip is not usually a good time for me to think about another, but I've been considering why we travel with our kids.

So here, in no particular order, are my reasons for traveling with kids:

1. I want to travel for longer than I want to leave my kids. Michael and I can go away for a long weekend or even a week. But after that, I start missing the kids too much to enjoy myself as fully as I would like.
2. It improves their vocabulary. For our toddlers especially, traveling introduces all kinds of new words. I remember EM first learning the word city from looking down on Bath from one of the surrounding hills and asking, "What's that?"
   
3. It's a great way to meet the locals. OK, so the hospital stay in Costa Rica courtesy of NB was not my favorite live-like-a-local experience, but most of them have been very positive. When EM was three, strangers sitting next to us at the food booth in the Marrakesh night market ordered treats for him. In Costa Rica, women would gather around LW, pinch his cheeks, and gush over how gordito and lindo he was. Usually the resulting conversations are superficial, but at least it gets you interacting with someone not in the tourist industry.
4. The kids open up when you're on the road. At home, it's often hard to have in-depth conversations. The phone rings, a guest comes in, there is work to do. And for their part, the kids are busy with homework, the TV, the computer. But traveling removes us from our normal distractions. Talking to mom is a lot more interesting when you are two hours into a four-hour layover at JFK. EM and I had an enlightening conversation yesterday about religion, parenting, and what he thinks about living in three different states. It's unlikely we would have had the time for that conversation at home.
5. The kids get along better. Initially, sibling issues might increase, but once they realize that for the most part, if they want to play with someone, their siblings are all they've got, they tend to fight less and support each other more than they do at home. Of course, every trip has its moments, but then, so do days at home.
6. Kids are a great excuse for slowing down. When EM was three, Michael and I went back to England without him. We were determined to do all the things we couldn't do when he was along. Specifically, walking tours. By the end of the trip, our feet throbbed the moment they touched the floor in the morning. Traveling with kids forces you to eat frequently, spend some time in the park, and get out of the museum before your eyes cross and your head pounds. (Sadly, I have found that not only is 2 hours in a museum a day a good limit for my kids, it's also a good limit for me. But when they aren't with me, it's easy for me to keep going when what I really need is a break.)
7. Kids often know stuff that enhances the trip. Last year, we visited Avignon. A must-see site in Avignon is the bridge. "The one in the famous nursery song" all the guidebooks said. "What nursery song?" I asked Michael as we drove there, and he just shrugged. Suddenly, I heard IM singing in the back seat. Turns out, she learned the song in her one-week French camp the previous summer and was able to provide the appropriate soundtrack for our visit.
8. The shared experiences bond us together. When we travel, we're more of a unit than we are at home. On the road, what happens to one likely happens to all, and we enjoy reliving the adventure together through our stories and photos. Even the bad times redeem themselves by making great stories.
9. Kids are often easier to manage when you are on the go. For our kids, especially when they are young, boredom is a leading cause of mischief and naughtiness. Travel gives us lots of fun things to see and do, which results in cheerful kids.
   
10. You always have someone who wants to say "Cheese!" We like travel pictures with people in them. (Amateurs that we are, if we just want a picture of a famous site, we're better off buying the postcard.) But neither of us particularly likes to be in the pictures. Kids have no such qualms. If you plan it carefully, you can go an entire trip without ever being in front of the camera.
    

(Mostly) home again

The "big kids" and I returned from our two-week vacation late last night, right on schedule. (Or at least within shouting distance of the schedule. We were less than two hours late.) LW and Michael, sadly, are still back in Utah and won't fly home until Wednesday.

Why? Because LW was still in the hospital when our plane departed Salt Lake City. The little guy came down with a stomach bug Wednesday morning when we were in St. George. By the time we arrived back at Michael's parents house in Utah County on Thursday afternoon, he was listless. We took him to an urgent care facility in Orem (the nearest one that worked with our insurance), and they sent him to the ER.

He ended up with an oxygen mask, a nebulizer treatment, and (eventually) IV fluids. Poor kid apparently ended up with my veins, and the ER nurses had to call someone down from pediatrics to put in his line. Unfortunately, not before they tried first.

At one point, they told us the hospital didn't have a bed for a pediatric patient and they would need to move us to the American Fork hospital (where the three older kids were born) or Primary Children's in SLC. Luckily for us (but unfortunately for someone else) they ended up transferring another child to Primary Children's, so we didn't have to move LW.

I stayed with LW Thursday night, Friday, and Friday night. By Friday morning, he was doing a lot better, and my biggest problem became trying to get him to eat or drink something. Have I mentioned before how remarkably stubborn he can be about food? I managed to coax about a cup of juice and 7 small cubes of watermelon down him. All day.

Michael called the airline and rescheduled his and LW's return flight, and I braced myself for leaving my little boy in the hospital.

Friday night, LW went to sleep at 7:30 and slept through until 6:30. He did cry out once or twice, and I had to untangle him from his IV cord. The nurse described his sleep as "restless" but it was pretty much how he normally sleeps.

He woke up cheerful, requesting, "You hold me" and climbing into my lap, then quickly got fussy about his IV and the lack of Donald Duck on TV.

When I called Michael from the airport, LW was back to his usual naughty curious self, playing with the buttons on the bed. Of course, it took until the afternoon to actually get him released from the hospital. He still wasn't really eating or drinking, but he has a better chance of doing that at Grammy and Grandpa's house, away from the IV fluids.

I don't envy Michael having to fly cross-country with LW on Wednesday without another adult. I wonder if he realizes he sent the portable DVD player home with me . . .