Category Archives: travel and the great outdoors

Do you like my hat?

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During my stay here in Florida I’ve been keenly aware that my self-consciousness has been slowly receding. I can tell because I walked around all day today wearing a ridiculous hat I bought at the grocery store and aviator sunglasses like Tom Cruise wore in Top Gun, while my sunburned neon face and legs literally shined a light onto anyone who came within 2 feet of me.

 

Photo on 5-26-14 at 5.26 PM #2

 

I was keenly aware that I looked like a ridiculous tourist and I absolutely did not care. Yes. It’s happened. Either I’m middle aged and I’ve finally reached the point where I don’t care what others think of me, or I’m officially a “mom” and the benefit of what is practical in any given clothing situation far outweighs what is attractive.

 

The voices of judgment and fear of being judged have grown so quiet during my time here, that I feel my sense of humor sprouting up and actually growing back. Like a lot of women I know, when stress gets me down, I tend to really get in my head. My sense of humor disappears. Everything is worrisome. I can’t do a single thing without wondering if it’s the right thing. Wondering what people are thinking about it. Whether I look (or am) ridiculous or sad or out of my element. I feel hyper-aware of what I’m saying and doing.

 

So I was psyched to find today, as I walked on the beach, that the critical, worried voice in my head had faded.

 

If I were starring in an HBO sitcom, the narrative of my walk on the beach would go like this:

After gathering seashells on the beach for hours, I started to realize that I was my own worst enemy. So much of my own energy was being wasted in wondering what others were thinking of me. I had been dampening down my actions or changing my course all together so as not to offend or distract the people around me. I picked up a pink shell and threw it into the waves. A young couple walked by and I listened for the voice in my head…that self-conscious flag alerting me to others that might be watching or noticing me, and what they might think of me.  I reached down to pick up a black shell with a small chip on the side- imperfect in the most beautiful way- and noticed the voice was gone. All I could hear was the sound of the waves breaking on the shore.

 

OK, so that’s sort of what happened. In reality, I could still hear the voice a little. I am not a tv show character. But after spending 3 days alone, crying my eyes out about my dad, and soaking in every drop of healing the ocean offered, I noticed that the voice was quieter, sitting way in the back row balcony of my self-talk.

 

Surprisingly, I did discover a new voice emerging to the forefront. This one is sassy as hell. When I walked on the beach past a hot middle-aged, string bikini-wearing woman with thin, toned, legs and long blonde hair, and boobs that were naturally still at boob height…this voice immediately snarked in my head “Well, congratulations.” But the difference was that I wasn’t wishing to be more like her or wondering what she thought of me and my grown-ass-woman-wearing-an-ugly-hat self.

 

So that’s something.

The Mom-cation: You’re next.

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I am writing this post while sitting in a tiny Florida cottage on the Gulf Coast. I am by myself and have been by myself for 56 hours now. I can hear the clock ticking. I have spoken no more than a handful of sentences since I’ve been here, except for the times I talked to my husband and kids on the phone.

 

Let this stock beach photo inspire you.

 

I came to this place to visit the spot where my sister and I sprinkled my dad’s ashes into the ocean 2 years ago. I came here, too, because I need to stare out at the ocean once or twice a year…if I don’t do that, then something undefinable is missing in my world. I came here because the routine of my daily life was starting to feel like a routine of stressors. I was tense all the time- enough so that a yoga class or a walk in the woods wasn’t going to make me feel better. And I ain’t no dummy. I’ve been down the road before where a little slip turns into a long slide and there you are suddenly wondering about how to change your whole life when really all you may need is one small change. Like maybe a vacation all to yourself.

 

I firmly believe that time alone is healing for most people. I encourage you to give it a try. You never know what you might discover.

If you’re ready to explore the Mom-cation, here is how it goes:

Pick a place you would like to visit. Not a place your kids would have fun visiting or your partner has been talking about going to. A place YOU would like to visit. Maybe it’s been on your mind for months. Maybe you’ve been thinking of it for years. You know the place. Start short and sweet if it’s more comfortable. A car ride and an overnight. You don’t have to jump into a week in Thailand just yet.

Find a moment to get online. (The next time you are supposed to be taking a shower, turn on the water, close the door and sit on the toilet seat lid while researching trip options.)

Bolster you nerve. Yes, you can do this: Number of travelers: 1.

See if you can make it happen financially (where there’s a will there’s a way.)

Tell your partner or support system that you need this. The kind of need that is non-negotiable. Like I need to work out. I need 4 hours of sleep. I need a haircut. Tell him/her that you will help arrange for extra support for the kids if needed and will return the favor in kind when he/she needs time away. If a partner is not in the picture, try your closest friend or relative.

Pick a few days that will work with your calendars. Yes, the kids can miss preschool. Yes, relatives can help out. Yes, you can miss your book club meeting.

Book your trip.

Go. You deserve it.

 

 

Camping Success!!

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In June, my family set out for our first camping experiment as a family of four.  We went to PJ Hoffmaster, or HR Pufnstuf as I liked to call it, a campground on the Lake Michigan shoreline of southwestern Michigan.  The campground looked significantly thinned out since our last visit just two years ago, due to the removal of trees that had been affected with oak wilt, emerald ash borer, Asian longhorn beetle, and beech bark disease.*  Though even with the removals, PJ Hoffmaster had retained its overall beauty and family friendly atmosphere.

It’s kind of an ideal campground.  Beauty, smiling faces, roomy sites, a beach within walking distance, and (let’s get down to brass tacks) clean hot showers and fully functioning flush toilets.  It was a great place to try out our massive virgin REI six person tent.

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The campsites are a short walk to the Lake Michigan shoreline on a path through a forest of beech, maple, and pine trees stretching skyward. The removal of those threatened trees on our site resulted in it being a bit more exposed than we would have liked.  That is, if you like shade on 90 degree days.  Here is a picture of the lone shade tree on our site.  (Just ignore the other tree you see in the background…that is the forest a ways off- and the shade did not reach our site.)

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At least once a day, we made our way to the beach by walking the ¼ mile path through the woods.  Pushing my kids in the double stroller is a cinch on most surfaces, but on sand things can get tricky.  Even with our moderately deluxe (the best that money can buy at Target) off-road stroller, when the gravel path started becoming less like gravel and more like beach, the wheels stopped moving.  Now pushing the stroller became more like pushing a 90 pound rock through sand.  I had to lean comically hard into it- my body at a 45 degree angle in order to get it to budge.  I used my brute strength.  My husband encouraged me. “Put your legs into it.”  Because the alternative was carrying at least one child, the beach shelter, and the three bags of beach paraphernalia up a hill, down the dunes and to the beach.

What we really needed was a sled with all our stuff on it and some dogs to pull it. My once a week tennis game was not enough training to carry me through the physical challenge of getting our children and our stuff to the beach.  We abandoned the stroller (after taking the children out, don’t worry) along with the other strollers and bikes on the side of the path.

Our three year old could walk the remaining 1/8 mile.  Though it would take an hour to walk it because once the forest gave way completely to sky-high sand dunes, he would want to run up and down them twenty times. Especially the one with the big dead log with all the pointy deadly sticks jutting out of it.   He also took off his shoes at the very top of the 50 foot dune and left them there (“You can get them, Mommy.”)

Our eight month old would have to be carried, though.  He is a big boy- 25 lbs at his six month check up.  While being carried, he doesn’t hold on or offer any assistance with his legs or arms.  They just dangle no matter how many times you try and encourage him to wrap them around you.  Justin says that carrying him is like carrying 25 pounds of water in a loose bag.  It’s just not a tight operation and makes carrying anything else, in addition to him, more than cumbersome.

Lake Michigan was gorgeous – just clean and sort of a bluish-green that day.  Looking across the water, we got to see one of my favorite sights: the absence of land on the horizon.  This was the camping beach, so it wasn’t too crowded.  Just mostly families scattered around near the shoreline and around a little inlet or pond of water that had formed just in front of the lake.

Our kids are easily identified on any beach because they are the ones wearing the most clothing.  My three year old has no fear of water and is therefore required to wear a life jacket at all times.  My eight month has a hat with a brim the size of a basketball hoop.

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Swimming was totally refreshing and quite perfect, actually.  When it was time to go back to the campsite, the sun was starting to set.  It took us what seemed like hours to get back to our stroller but once we made it there, we could strap both kids in and walk leisurely back to our site, have a little grub, and get ready for bed.

I’m not gonna lie, some chaos ensued in trying to get the kids dressed and ready for bed.  But, honestly, that’s not unusual even when we’re not camping.  We stayed two nights at PJ Hoffmaster.  First-time family of four camping……Success!!

*Recently, the emerald ash borer was found in Mirror Lake State Park which basically means it will be coming to Madison too.  We will be saying goodbye to all of our ash trees just like every other area that has been infected with these critters.

Totally worth it.

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A few people have commented to me after reading my last few posts that our trip to Florida sounded more crazy than fun.  Truth be told, it was both crazy and fun.  Rewarding in the way that only travel can be. Especially travel from the Midwest during an ungodly long cold spell.  Snow.  In April.  Really.

But pretty much no matter how much hardship or stress is involved, I love to travel.  I particularly loved this last trip because it was our first road trip since having our 2nd boy.  It was sort of an experiment- to see if we could travel well with a toddler and an infant. I consider it to be a grand success because we had a fantastic time in Florida, even if parts of the getting there and back were dicey.  And even as I was changing the poopy diapers or listening to Old MacfuckingDonald for the 100th time, in the back of my mind and more importantly in my heart, were these words: Yes. Thank God I’m on the Road.  Totally Worth It.

This trip was a huge success.  My 3 year old got to play in the sand and the ocean.  He is so incredibly active that it is a relief to have such a wide, massive playground for him where we can just strap on his lifejacket, toss some buckets and shovels in the sand and listen to him giggle ecstatically for hours over the crashing waves.  My 6 month old touched the sea for the first time, which, in my world, is pretty much a rite of passage. And Justin and I got to paddleboard.  Stand up paddleboarding is incredibly fun and nothing compares to doing it on the crystal blue waters of the ocean. It was perfect bliss.

So was it crazy?  Yes.  And blissful.  Beautiful.  Fun.  Totally worth it.

Kids make you busy.

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Two adults, a 3 year old and a 6 month old get into a mini-van to drive 20 hours to Florida and 20 hours back.  That right there is the setup and the punchline, folks.

Yesterday I wrote about lawn mower races and poop anomalies.  Today I am thinking about grander things.  Namely, my worth as a parent.  Taking this road trip validated me at my deepest level and here is why: it showed me why I should no longer feel bad about not being able to get shit done in my day to day life.

The only tasks we really needed to accomplish as a family, while driving in this mini-van were:

1. Eat

2. Drive

3. Take potty breaks

4. Sleep

That’s it. There was no laundry to fold, no dishes to do, no calendars to keep, checkbooks to balance, rooms to clean, toys to put away, showers to take…you get the idea.  The tasks required of us on this trip were the absolute purest, barest minimum.  And yet (here is where the validating part comes in) the overall mood inside that van was absolute chaos.  Leaky diapers, bunny crackers out of reach, poop blowouts, toys dropped, baby needs to nurse, sunglasses missing, cd not working, gps comes unplugged, water spilled, straw dropped, baby crying, baby wailing, 3 year old mumbling as quietly as possible and over and over again something neither of us can hear, ridiculously annoying toddler-song cd filling the van with modified kids’ voices.

With 2 adults, we were scrambling to maintain calm.  With both of us hustling we managed to create some extended times of quiet where one of us could drive and one of us could sleep or read.  But, this was short-lived.  It made the idea of doing this at home by myself and actually trying to get stuff done seem….heroic.  Here we were driving in a 10×5 foot box with literally nothing that needed to be done except eat, sleep, drive and take potty breaks.  With 2 of us working at it, we were just barely able to take care of these things and find time to rest.  No wonder I feel too tired to make dinner most nights.

No matter how mellow you are, kids make you busy.  They bring it.  So tonight, I’m raising my glass to those parents who raise their kids and find time to do stuff like make dinner, clean the kitchen floor, and fold pants.  I will be thinking of you while we eat take-out food while wearing our pajamas (the only clothes that were clean.)

Lawn Mower Racing. Yep.

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Over the course of our eight years together, I occasionally have had moments where Justin’s background (Wisconsin boy) and mine (suburban Chicago girl) bump into each other in the most surprising and hilarious ways.  One such moment happened at a park in Henry County Georgia- a random stop we made in search of a playground on our way back from Florida last week.  When we drove up the road to enter, there were two girls sitting at a folding table in the sun.  I thought they were collecting cash for a car wash being held at the park or something.  When we approached, one of the girls came up to the driver side window and I said, “What’s happening here?”  She informed us about the “lawn mower races” going on today and that it was a $2 donation if we felt so inclined.  I kind of mentally stumbled over the words “lawn mower races,” picturing, of course, sweaty tank-topped young men (like in the tractor chicken stand-off in Footloose) perched atop red or green low-powered machines racing pathetically around in circles at like 5 mph.  I imagined my 3 year old could have lapped them on his tricycle.  I shrugged thinking, I guess this is a Georgia thing.

We found 2 sweaty dollar bills and handed them over and she showed us where to park.  We were the first car in the lot.  As we got out and were walking over to the playground, I assumed Justin shared my awe and wonder at this wild excursion into Georgia culture.  I giggled and said, “What in the hell is a lawn mower race?” And (this is where our differences elate me) he goes, “Seriously? You’ve never heard of lawn mower races?” To which I replied of course, “Seriously? You HAVE heard of lawn mower races?” Around this time, a loud rumble came from behind us and a go-cart looking thing comes racing across the parking lot.  It looked a lot like well, a lawn mower, except it was low to the ground and traveling around 30mph.  “There’s one now,” said Justin.  “That’s no lawn mower!” I shouted over the rumble of its engine.  It then became apparent that the term “lawn mower race” is highly misleading.  This was a glorified go-cart with the body of a lawn mower.  I said this to Justin and he says, “Well, yeah.  But it’s still a lawn mower.” Go-cart. Lawn mower. Go-cart. Lawn mower.

We watched our boy play on the playground, changed our 6 month old’s poopy diaper, and headed back to the van without staying for the races.  I wanted to stay and watch, but it was an hour before the races start and honestly, just hearing the existence of the phrase “lawn mower race” was enough foreign culture for me for the day.

And for his next trick….poop again.

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My second born son is 6 months old and up until the time we went on our Epic Road Trip to Florida last week, he was pooping once every 2 days.  Since the moment we placed him in the car seat in the van on our way south, he has pooped every 3 hours AND with each poop, has blown shite out his diapers onto his pants/onesie/shirt.   What great mystery of life has caused these three simultaneous things to happen?

  1. His digestive system kicked from 1st gear into a 5th gear we were unaware existed.
  2. His car seat cradled his bottom at an angle just so- so that every single fracking poop found an exit route from the diaper.
  3. His timing of pooping always occurred 20 minutes after we had just stopped for either gas, 3 year old potty needs, or food.

We have spent over 40 hours in our van over the past week and he has gone through no less than 10 outfits due to blow outs.  I don’t believe in Murphy’s Law, but after the last week, I do believe there must be some great cosmic road trip poop law ruling his bottom on this trip.  There is no other explanation.