Camping Round-up

Last weekend we made our annual trek to the mountains of WV for our family camping trip. This is Andrew's 3rd trip, even though he's not yet 2 1/2.

I had more concerns this year as Andrew is more mobile, more curious, and more vocal than ever.  Fortunately, he had a wonderful time and we avoided the numerous hazards all around us such as ticks, hornets, the river, boiling oil, etc. He kept saying he had to sit on the potty, when the potty was a fly-filled latrine, and I was reminded of how fun potty training is going to be. A huge bonus was that I didn't have to milk myself like a cow the way I did on Andrew's first trip.

Andrew LOVES being around people, and having space to run around. He was already thrilled with being outside, so the throwing rocks in the river, staying up late, and eating all manner of junk were the icing on the cake for him.

Speaking of cake/food, we had our annual Fry-day Fried Food Fest, but we added some healthier options this year as well.

Some favorite deep fried items:

Dill pickles (cut into thin rounds)
Shrimp
Wild Turkey
Potstickers
Fish (for fish tacos with cilantro mayo)
Mozzarella sticks
Sweet potato fries
Okra
Chicken strips
Nutter Butter cookies (OH MY, YUM!)

Some favorite healthier items:
Cole slaw
Black bean and rice salad
Chipotle Corn Salsa (copycat version) RECIPE HERE
Pasta salad

6 dogs at our campsite provided entertainment, and my sister's addition of a brand-new camper was a great place for Andrew to nap, or as he says, "Have a moment."

My Aunt was able to drive over and see us for the afternoon:

And, of course, we had a great rare bird sighting with this bald eagle:

It was a lot of prep work and schlepping for 2 days of fun, but I'm grateful for time with family.

p.s. If you've never tired a honeybun cooked over a griddle, you are missing out.

A-Camping We Will Go!

So remember last year when I took a 3 month old tent camping? With no running water? And my breast pump broke and I had to milk myself like a cow? Yeah. Well, a lot of you said this year would be even tougher because Andrew would be mobile.

Indeed he is.

In short, I'm a wee bit nervous. And, having been sick all week, my energy is WAY DOWN.

We leave in 2 days and I can barely fathom what this is going to be like. Well, I guess I can: It's going to be hot. Dirty. There is still no running water. But there are fire ants, ticks, bees, a river, boiling oil, a fire, and possibly bears.

There will also be mountains, family, and friends. And we bought a larger tent to accommodate a Pack and Play, so it could feel like a palace.

Will you say a little prayer for us? Specifically for Andrew's safety and my sanity? I'll be ready to report back early next week. In the meantime, tales of some of our earlier trips:

2013

2010

2009

2008

Express Yourself

I couldn't decide whether to go on our family's annual camping trip this year. The thought of tent camping with a three month old baby seemed overwhelming, sticky, and scary. I mean, this is NOT glamping. We have no running water and our bathrooms are latrines. If Andrew became uncomfortable and inconsolable, I wasn't sure what I'd do.

Up until 3 days before, I planned to have Tim and Margaret go while Andrew and I stayed home. But, as I may have told you, Andrew can be a real fuss-pot, so I started weighing whether I wanted to be alone 24/7 with a fuss-pot, or roughing it with that fuss-pot where I'd have family support.

I made reservations at the closest motel to the campground so Andrew and I could stay there at night. If you've ever slept in a hot tent, you know it's sauna-like, but in a bad way. When I found out the weekend was supposed to be VERY HOT, the idea of a cool room was the only option, I figured.

So off we went on Friday, heading 3 hours away into the mountains, at which point I picked up my motel key. The additional 50 minutes on the world's windiest road to the campsite made me reconsider the feasibility of going back and forth to the motel. Andrew does not like the car, and I didn't want to put him through that.

Here's a towel from the motel gift shop:

I hoped the trip would be good enough for a few stories, but not EPIC enough to make it to dish towel status.

For reasons that are too boring to discuss, I should let you know that I've been pumping milk for Andrew since he was 4 weeks old, instead of nursing him. He showed a strong early preference for the bottle, so I just rolled with it. Or, as I like to say, twice the work for none of the fun. I was overwhelmed thinking of pumping and storing breast milk at a rustic camp site, but I was determined to make it work. We had bottles, coolers, and ice packs. But as I was pumping milk in the car, on the world's windiest road, we started to smell something burning. The portable pump, plugged into the car charger, shorted out.

Crap.

Thankfully, I brought formula as a back-up, so I knew the baby would be fine, but I was now in an isolated spot with quickly filling boobs and a broken breast pump.

We set up camp and I tried to interest Andrew in nursing. He acted as if I were trying to feed him a Twinkie covered with dog poo. Uh-oh!

The hours passed, and my window of opportunity to drive back to the motel closed as darkness set in. Tim borrowed an air mattress for us, we unzipped his sleeping bag to make a blanket, and I wadded up a t-shirt to use as a pillow. I hadn't packed those things for me as I thought I'd be sleeping in a motel. Soon we settled Andrew into his Rock and Play.

My big fear was that he would cry all night, keeping everyone else awake. I dreaded not being able to console him if the new surroundings threw him off. Instead, he had the audacity to sleep through the night.

While this might seem like a good thing, to someone who pumps 4-5 times every day, it was troubling. I tried to sleep, but it was like having throbbing balloons full of hot rocks attached to me. By two in the morning, I was desperate. No pump. A sleeping baby who would not wake up to nurse. A husband snoring blissfully next to me. I had no choice but to start expressing milk by hand. For the next hour or so, I milked myself like a cow, soaking an entire beach towel. Good times.

The next two days, Andrew was more receptive to the boob, and he proceeded to help his mom out by nursing a bit to take the edge off.

Being outdoors all day kept him relatively fuss-free. Yes, it was hot, but we stayed in the shade and appreciated the strong breeze. The best part was having plenty of  people to entertain him. The last day was actually cool enough for long sleeves!

Hi! I'm Andrew, and I slept all night in this tent!

 Even jumping in the air can't make Tim and Margaret as tall as our nephew, Jack's BFF!

 Black clothes don't show wet stains. Yay!

 Camping isn't complete without camp dogs.

We ate copious amounts of deep fried food, from chimichangas to funnel cake and fried oreos, told stories around the campfire, and watched some awesome wiffle ball. We even made Andrew his own little bathtub/swimming pool to keep him cool.

As Jack's BFF cousin and his girlfriend were packing up to leave, a huge bird swooped low over the campsite and kept making higher and higher circles until their car pulled out of sight. Hard times, good times, holy times.

I  still can't believe we took a baby camping. I mean, I haven't even been brave enough to take him to Target yet!

Next year should be even more interesting as he'll be toddling around.

Hold me.

Thrifty Summer Styling

Blame it on the nightly ice cream or the 2 (still) injured shoulders, but late spring/early summer found me with 3+ social events looming on my calendar and a closet full of clothes that were too small. We have a major family vacation coming up, and I knew any new clothes would have to be of the "twice-loved" variety. Let's see how it all turned out:

Wedding #1
Elegant country club setting in Bethesda, MD. Stunning young bride and groom. We will not discuss the epic argument that transpired by the three people pictured below on the way to the wedding.

Strapless dark blue Target dress purchased for $5 at the thrift store. When I got it home, however, I realized I'd over-estimated my cup size, so there was a lot of gaping fabric. A quick trip to the tailor to have it taken in put the dress up into the $45 dollar range. And, it was now so tight in the ribcage,  it was hard to breathe, and laughing was out of the question. New at Target, the dress would  probably would have been about $25.

Win? Not so sure.

P.S. I forgot to get my roots dyed before the wedding.
P.P.S. Yes, Margaret is wearing a brand spanking new dress. No one said life was fair.

Wedding #2:
Outdoor wedding at a national park on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. Perfect weather! Service under the trees, then reception with live music in a big, breezy barn. Gray cotton J. Crew dress from thrift shop $6.50. Cool and comfy, plus pockets for my cell phone. Definite win.

Wedding # 3:
Took place at our annual camping trip in West Virginia. Read more about those trips here, here, and here. Ceremony in meadow surrounded by mountains. Vows under an arbor made by my brother, the groom.

I ran out of time to buy a "new" dress and pulled out dress # 2 again. It was cool and comfy, and this got the price per wear down to just $3.25. Win-Win!

 (Margaret helping bride and groom put flowers on arbor a few hours before the ceremony)

 

 

 

(My big brother the groom)


More thrifty finds to follow!

Lean in or Cut and Run?

 

Friday, Tim and I climbed into the car after an ugly argument. Margaret was already at the campground  a few hours away with my sister's family. This trip was starting so differently from those in the past: big fight, no Jack, no Margaret, no Shadow. Just two angry grown ups wondering why we were even bothering. On those other trips, I'd pray out loud as we sat in our driveway "Please God keep our family safe and bless our time together."  We'd pull onto our street, and right after we'd round the first corner, Tim would pat the top of his head, then his pocket, and we'd turn around to get his glasses that sat on the tray next to the TV remotes. The kids and I would laugh. The rhythm of those trips was predictable. Now, nothing is.

I thought of the mother of the murdered girl in "The Lovely Bones" who cut and ran. She ditched her family and went out west to work in a vineyard. I did not respect her decision, although I could see why she'd made it. It felt tempting as Tim and I began our drive. But I'm more of a stay-er, a sifter, a sorter, than someone who runs away. Usually.

We could have bagged this trip again, the way we did last summer, but we really, really wanted to try it. The tension between us diffused and was gone by the time we hit the curvy mountain roads and pulled up to our camping spot. A handful of teenage boys, including Jack's favorite cousin, tossed a ball around and grabbed cheese balls by the handful out of a huge plastic barrel. Ouch.

Margaret and the rest of the crew were about to go tubing on the river. I hadn't seen her in almost a week, so I said I'd go too, even though I was nervous. I wanted to reconnect and be brave. Margaret and her cousin pulled out ahead of us with the teenagers and adults, and I didn't see them again.

Before I knew it, I was sharing a raft with three very chatty elementary aged kids we'd known for years but only saw on these trips. Once we started down the river, there would be no getting out for the next two hours; we just had to float where the river took us. No cutting and running here. Our first camping trip without Jack, at our same familiar campsite. Surrounded by beautiful, suntanned teen aged boys. Floating on a river of.....WATER....and being charged with keeping three kids alive. It was a lot. 

In some ways it couldn't have been better. I had to stay focused on the children, so I was less focused on missing Jack. Also, little kids have no filters, so our conversations ranged from the joys of peeing in a river to "I'm just so sorry Jack died." "We miss Jack." "What happened to Jack?" "Does a body keep growing once it's buried in the ground?" I explained that Jack's body was cremated, which means it was burned up not buried. "I'd hate to have to watch that," said one of my little buddies and I agreed that I would too. We talked a little about God and a lot about their classmates at school and spiders. It felt good to just get it all out there. How many times have I wanted to say to someone, "I'm sorry so and so died" but have held back?

On the raft, I had to be the responsible adult, the cheerleader, the motivator, not just the broken one, and it felt good.

A huge bald eagle swooped down and sailed right over us then on up the river. We whooped and hollered. Nature was beautiful. Yes, it was dangerous, and unpredictable, but it was also good.

At one point our raft got hung up on a tree stump in the water. This had never happened to me before. I couldn't dislodge it for some time, and I became afraid. The wide, peaceful river was NOTHING like the raging creek that took Jack's life. Nothing. But I was still scared. It had started to rain. We decided we were: cold, tired, scared, hungry, and we all had to pee. During our stuck time, as the water rushed around me and I stood on slippery rocks in the river trying to dislodge the raft, I told the kids that this would be a great time for us all to pee, so we did, and we laughed, our teeth chattering and lips turning blue.

A few minutes later, we were safely ashore again, ready for campfires, fried food, and lightning bugs.

Last year this trip would have been too much. This year it was do-able.

This whole spring and summer has been about making decisions about our family's future. It has been a mix of discerning when to revisit the traditions of the past and when to cut and run. There is not one right way.

But we are glad we choose to camp.

p.s.
When we got off the rafts, the rain stopped and we had a rainbow!

Then, when we glanced at this photo my nephew took of the fire, we thought the guy on the right looked a wee bit familiar. What do YOU think?

We  now have a Facebook page! Would you "like" An Inch of Gray on Facebook?

Ramping Up for Camping Out

In a few days we'll leave for our annual camping trip in WV. We didn't go last year because it just seemed too sad.

This year we are going to try.

It will be weird to be away from cell phones and computers. In the past two years our use of electronics has ramped up substantially with Margaret getting an ipad and with my online community (THANK YOU!) being such a support. Our campsite is so remote, we'll most likely all be having withdrawal symptoms.

My sister and I are both also really hoping to get our periods, because that makes using the latrines that much more fun.

Please pray for Jack's favorite cousin who will not have Jack to share a tent with and who will be celebrating his 15th birthday during the trip.

For a glimpse of what we'll be doing and eating, check this out. Fried Oreos, anyone?

And to read about the hottest camping trip ever, go here.

I hope your summer trips are more fun than work, or at least about equal, and that you're taking lots of great pictures.

xo, Anna

p.s. I was driving down the highway on Sunday and looked up in the sky to see a perfect X and O out of clouds. Not sure whether those were for me or for you, so I'm passing them along!

She's Baaaack!

I'm back from the 3-day Girl Scout camping trip and I survived. Heck, I thrived!

Major Lowlight:

The latrines. Dear Lord. I've traveled the world. I camp. Cold-War era train toilets in Romania? Check. Self-dug poo trench in the Yucatan? Sure. Nothing prepared me for the odor emanating from the latrines at Girl Scout camp.

I am normally one to say, "C'mon, it's really not that bad," in an effort to keep the whining at bay. This time, however, I was the biggest whiner of all. It smelled so bad I could taste it. My eyes burned and teared every time I crossed the dreaded threshold of all that is unholy.

All of my senses were assaulted and insulted by the experience. Some of the little girls tried to hold it all weekend. But a peri-menopausal 40-something mom? Not an option.

Major Highlight:

Getting to know 11 nine year old girls was fantastic! At the beginning they were like (insert skeptical, possibly disdainful facial expression here), "Who is Mrs. See and why is she chaperoning us?!" By the end, they were crushing on me big time, eagerly letting me fill in for the mommies who couldn't be there.

This was such a special opportunity for me. I realized that since I quit teaching, I haven't had the same chances to pour my heart into kids that I used to. I know that sounds weird coming from someone who stayed at home with her kids for 9 plus years. It is weird, but true.

In fact, I think perhaps having my own kids closed me off to an extent toward other kids. It was as if keeping my own alive, and then navigating their highs and lows was all I could manage, and sometimes not so well at that.

Instead of really being able to notice and appreciate most other kids, I've spent the past years assessing how kids are interacting with mine, and being easily annoyed with anyone who is not the fruit of my loins (do I have loins?). Combine that with an unhealthy dash of comparisons and competitiveness, and you can see how a certain brittleness about other people's kids has flourished. Flattering, I know.

This is far removed from my mom's attitude. She always seemed to "get" that giving part of herself to another kid never took one thing away from us. I think that is why she attracted so many "strays" over the years.

So, even though I dreaded going to camp and only did so out of guilt for having been a really bad Scout Mom, it gave me the chance to spend time with the girls and appreciate who they were, not who they were in relation to my kids.

They were charming, quirky, funny and needy. They were spunky, shy and lovable.

Molly's independence and self confidence helped free me to spend time with the other girls. Now before you think I ignored Molly the whole weekend, I will tell you she and I slept together inside one sleeping bag Friday night. Cozy.

And, not only did these cuties teach me more about myself, and how there is much more to give than I think, they taught me how to make my first key chain out of GIMP! Yes way.

By Far the Biggest Highlight:

Last night at bedtime Molly said, "You did GREAT, Mom! You didn't embarrass me or anything."

A Country Girl Will Survive-- the heat

I am home recovering from our annual camping trip. Those of you who have been with me for a while, may recall hearing that on last year's trip I had the honor of removing a tick from my sister's bare rear. And you may also recall that the place where we camp, which is in a majestic, beautiful setting, has no running water or bathrooms. It does have very nice latrines (note the little brown buildings in the top pic)

This year had all the regular fun PLUS the bonus of being Hotter than Hell.

This is a picture of a bank clock in one of the little towns on the way to the campground. When we drove by the first time it said 101, but I couldn't find the camera amidst mountains of crap packed in our car, so this photo was taken on the way home. Yes, it had cooled down my one glorious degree by that time.

So, if you recall Fry Fest, which has been re-dubbed "Fry-Day" because it took place, well, on Friday, you'll know that my brother will and does deep fry anything he can get his hands on in beer batter and a vat of oil.

Here's what we he fried this year:

french fries
chicken nuggets
wings
chicken thighs
turkey
fish
chimichangas
corn dogs
egg rolls
Twinkies
Oreos
blackberries

The master in action:


All that frying also helped take our minds off the fact that it was nearly impossible to keep our food cold this year. When I pointed out that I didn't love that our other food was floating in water alongside packages of chicken thighs, my brother pointed out that deep frying makes everything okay. Ummm. Okay.

I ate and obeyed.
And ate. And ate.

I also forgot my toothbrush.

A fun twist to this year's festivities was that my brother's best friends from high school plus his best friend from college joined our regular crew of siblings, relatives, and friends. His high school buddies actually rented an RV, or "The Rolling Turd," and braved the winding, mountainous roads to join us.

These guys hadn't all been together in decades. This was an interesting experience for me for several reasons. First of all, when these guys graduated, this is what I looked like:

Please ignore the scratched-out face of the Worst Date Ever and travel back with me to 1984 or'85. It was not a lovely time. Short of digging up my college Sorority composite photos and parading them about the campsite to try to prove to these guys that I did indeed blossom, I had no recourse but to accept the fact that they, the cool guys in high school, would have no inkling that I got slightly easier on the eyes in the ensuing years.

Why, you might ask, did I not dazzle them with my 40 year old beauty on this camping trip, making up for any 9th grade ugliness and a mullet?

Well, perhaps you have forgotten it was 101 freaking degrees.

There could be no make-up, no swishy, figure-flattering clothes, no pretense whatsoever. When they pulled up in The Rolling Turd, I had just gotten out of the river and was sporting my latest Lands End skirted bathing suit, uber-flattering water shoes, and a splotch of gray.

I pretty much stayed in the bathing suit the whole weekend in order to avoid spontaneous comustion. And if you are wondering whether every body part can sweat, I'd have to say an emphatic yes. Even earlobes.

The neat thing was, while a lot has changed over the years, some things remain the same. Sitting in camp chairs, luke-warm adult beverage in hand, telling stories and catching up, is balm for the soul.

It makes all the packing and schlepping and sweating worth it. Molly learned to fish and jumped off the rope swing for the first time. Jake shared a raft with his favorite cousin. My sister and I wore our matching Botox shirts I got at the thrift store as a joke. We parked ourselves in the river as much as we could.

We re-connected with old friends and my brother introduced us to new ones. And the view of the full moon out of our tent flap was pretty cool, too. And by cool, I mean, about 92 degrees cool, not 100.

Camping with An Inch of Gray (Or, Why Get Your Roots Done When You Can't Even Wash Your Hair?)

Just back from our annual camping trip in WV. Here are my impressions of some of what transpired:

Buying, staging, packing, transporting, unloading, using, re-packing, transporting and cleaning 2 carloads of stuff for a trip lasting less than 48 hours: Sanity-questioning.

Breaking out in boils from the medicine I was taking for Road Rash: Painful.

Waking up surrounded by mountains, and seeing eagles overhead: Awe-inspiring.


Spending time with my brother, sister, cousins and friends: Validating and uplifting.

Tubing down a river in a raft with my slightly nervous sister: Empowering and Memory Making.

Being confident enough to sit at a picnic table reading books while everyone else was drinking copious amounts of beer and chewing tobacco: I am who I am-ing.


Indulging in the deep fried delicacies of Fry Fest (this year’s items: onion rings, chimichangas, wings, nuggets, French fries, fish, jalapeño hush puppies, and Twinkies): Delicious and Artery-clogging.




Using latrines and having no running water except for the river: Fine. Really.




Having the honor of dislodging a tick embedded in my sister’s bare butt: Pee in my pants funny.

No Photo Available.