Niether rain, nor sleet, nor foot in the fire will keep us from our mission.

Posted on August 6, 2013 by Natalie

Pamplin Grove 2013. This was FINALLY my summer vacation – OUR summer vacation. Three solid days of not working. Hanging out in no-reception-cell-range awesomeness. All four of us together. I couldn’t wait.

We arrived. 4 people, 2 cars, a trailer full of gear, and 150 days worth of food.

This isn’t just any camping. This is a weekend where every person in the campground is part of an interrelated family-friends gathering. The gate closes behind us and within the confines of that campground we become part of a giant tribal community. The kids run in packs, the dogs run in packs and the adults do their best to channel low-rent parenting tactics with cocktails in hand and camp-chairs permanently affixed to our butts. Kids are encouraged to scram, armed with a base set of ground rules, checking in only if someone is bleeding or in need of hydration.

We hung our site flag, unpacked our litany of tents and chairs and food and bikes, and joined in the festivities already underway.

Then came day 2.

As I lay in my tent trying very hard to doze and ignore the ridiculously loud prattle of 6 high-pitched child voices around the early-morning campfire, I all of a sudden hear a loud scream emanate from my youngest child, a scuffle and Steve’s voice yelling. Then another more pronounced scream that made me bolt upright and scramble out of the tent. It was all pretty chaotic, and by the time I was out, Steve was already headed out of camp with a screaming Porter. It took what seemed an eternity before I was able to find the mob of kind and helpful fellow campers huddled around my husband and son at the water spigot. Porter’s bare foot had gone into the fire.

It was a bit difficult at first to actually assess the damage. Porter was pretty hysterical, and looking at his foot, the extent of the burn wasn’t immediately visible. One thing was, however, readily clear: it hurt like a mother. Thankfully one of the guys helping us had the dressing materials we needed to get the area properly hydrated, covered and gauzed. From there, one thing was clear – this kid needed some pain meds. And so it was, we headed out to the nearest ER – all the while trying to calm the wails coming from the back seat. “IT FEELS LIKE A THOUSAND ARROWS SHOOTING INTO MY FOOT!”

At the ER, Nurse to Porter: “Okay, so on a scale of one to ten, with one being no pain and 10 being… -NINE!” (the poor nurse wasn’t even able to finish asking the question). Meds were administered and a little more calm evaluation was able to take place. First and 2nd degree burns, side of the foot, most likely no permanent damage, good that it wasn’t on the sole or toes. “You may want to think about cutting your camping trip short.” Steve and I kind of look at each other like, “Um. Yeah, no.” He is going to be fine. We will keep it clean and dry, use common sense if anything looks amiss and you send us back with that nice prescription of pain meds. We will take it from here.

By the time we left, Porter was describing his visions of rainbows and unicorns and proclaiming a gleeful “ZERO!!” when asked by the nurse about his pain level. We got into the car, headed to the nearest pharmacy for a bottle of pills, a bag full of gauze and tube of Neosporin and headed back to camp.

Once back, Porter got a hero’s welcome and the men got right to work on a proper shoe in which he could hobble around. Out. Came. The. Duck. Tape. And that, as they say, was that!

Camp on!

We celebrated Liam and Melissa’s birthdays in appropriate style – with a PBR-themed cape, water balloons, presents and treats. We ate deep-pit pig and lamb, watched the large gaggle of children perform skits and songs around the main communal fire-pit and roasted an insane amount of marshmallows. Somehow, Lynn, Melissa and I all ended up with these sweet Momgyver shirts that another camper had brought for the moms of the group. Porter hung in beautifully. He was disappointed he couldn’t be in the river, but made the best of the situation by parking himself on the beach in a chair while each of us took turns playing rounds of UNO with him.

Last year’s gathering had a broken leg. This year not only had a burned foot, but also a foot-in-wasp-nest episode. Each one slowly fossilizing into legends.

(Psst. You can find the entire photo set here.)

My Friends: Andrea

Posted on March 30, 2012 by Natalie

Last Saturday Andrea turned 40. [Giggle Giggle. Tee hee.] I, on the other hand, am maintaining my youthful 39-and-9-month glow. Bask in it. Go ahead.

If I were to guess, I’d say we all have an Andrea in our lives. You know, that friend who is that quiet kind of smart that makes you realize that you are always about 6 steps behind. She’s a scientist, she’s a web-designer, she’s a knitter, a dog trainer, and an all around awesome-ologist. She has that enviable combo of smart, talent and unassuming demeanor that keeps you humble. I kind of pretty much like totally adore her.

The original birthday plan was set to go down in the Big Easy for a right proper celebration, but life intervened (as it inevitably will) – and after a quick, covert change of plans, Jodie and I decided the show must go on. So we – along with her sister Stacy – decided to descend upon North Carolina for a grand ol’ 40th birthday surprise.

And so began the extravaganza.

Brian was instrumental in helping us secure a beach-side location just up the road from their house, as well as acting as our airport shuttle and overall logistics man. Plus, he willingly hung out with 4 women over the course of 6 days, which is an award ceremony entirely unto itself. He endured a relentless, estrogen-laden conversation loop including (but not limited to) boobs, babies, parenting, periods, sex, husbands and family drama. Thanks Bri, you definitely earned your merit badge on this one.

As for the rest, well some of that has to be kept confidential (as is written into our by-laws), but I think it was fair to say that we used up all of our words, cashed in all of our drinking points, and laughed in the deep and satisfying way one does when surrounded by great friends.

Happy birthday, Andrea. Here’s to you, our friendship, and the great addition you have made to my life.

(click photo to see the entire, gory set)

Numero Cinco (er, make that thinko)

Posted on March 10, 2012 by Natalie

Signs that your kids are watching too much Mythbusters.

Posted on February 12, 2012 by Natalie

It all began when I overheard the following statement: “Okay Porter, now don’t scream when I do this.”

Watching Porter’s front teeth twist and turn over the last weeks has been an infinite source of family entertainment. He has been guaranteed that at least one of us throughout the course of the day will walk up to him and ask, “hasn’t one of those teeth fallen out YET?” Myself included – which you think I’d be a little more sensitive about considering I was asked “haven’t had that baby YET?!” about 600 bazillion times with both of my insanely overdue pregnancies. But I digress.

So ANYWAYS, teeth. Loose. Insanely loose and crooked. There were days when I would look in the rear-view mirror of the car and see my son’s face with a single tooth resting atop his lower lip. Kinda like this (but in place of the bird is his nasty smelling blanket):

nanny mcphee

I tried to do some documenting the evolution of this process on my own:

Flash forward to yesterday.

Stella had finally reached her limit. Action needed to be taken. And big sisters can be very persuasive. Her plan involved one packet of purple embroidery thread from her friendship bracelet kit, one remote control all-terrain vehicle, and a whole lot of trial and error. Once she had successfully a.) gotten Porter’s buy-in, b.) figured out how to successfully attach the string to the tooth and the remote control car, and c.) gunned the car with just the right amount of slack in the line, she achieved her goal:

I still laugh each and every time I look at this photo. The blood. The look of victory on Stella’s face. The look of I-Don’t-Know-How-She-Convinced-Me-This-Was-A-Good-Idea on Porter’s face. It pretty much tells the entire story all by itself.

Happy 8th Birthday, Stella!

Posted on January 6, 2012 by Natalie

Dear Stelly,

Happy New Year! Happy Birthday!….a month late.

Why so late this year? Well, partially it has to do with the fact that within a period of 4 weeks our family pulled off two major holidays, a dance recital and two birthday parties. It’s like somehow our entire year’s activities get squished into the end. But, if you want the real truth about why this has dragged out so long, it’s that these posts are just getting harder and harder to write. You are more grown up than ever, and it is difficult for me to find the balance between enough and too much when it comes to sharing details of your life. On the Internet. Where growing populations of your peers are surfing the Internet from their phones.

Kiddo, this is your life, and you should be the one who gets to decide how much of it you want shared with the world. And man oh man were there some hum-dingers in there this year. But, I’ll just do my best to hang on to those for a more private time. Like when your first date comes to pick you up. For now, I’ll stick to the basics.

LOL, OMG, Totes, J/K!!

So, it seemingly took you somewhere between 15 and 20 years for you to get ready this morning. Those 6 different pairs of earrings weren’t going to try on themselves! Then, after fidgeting with your hair, and trying on three different pieces of outerwear, you stomped out to the bus stop at the 11th hour half sighing, half whining that your boots TOTALLY didn’t work with this outfit.

Your musical tastes have, thankfully, evolved along family lines. You listen to (and enjoy) a little bit of everything. Unfortunately, “little bit of everything” also includes things like Katy Perry, The Biebs and pretty much everything on the local top 40 station. And, like every child who has come before you, repetition and volume know no limits.

We have officially landed on the planet Tween – a trip I thought was going to take a couple more years. Apparently, not so much.

War and Peace by Age 9

I have mentioned more than once that you eat books for dinner. And lunch. And Breakfast. And snack on magazines. To say you are an avid reader is like saying The Beatles were this sorta popular group in the ’60s. It would take an entire bag of exclamation points and underscores to really make the point any more clear. For Christmas this year, your grandparents got you a box of books. Yes, a BOX. And no you didn’t roll your eyes or yell “Next!”. You squealed with delight. I know this will seem completely backward and make no sense, but many of our arguments are about the fact that I am constantly asking you to “PUT THE BOOK DOWN and [insert desired activity here].” And, although you have a library that rivals the county archive, I do appreciate the fact that you consume books for enjoyment and not for sport. You reread books all the time, and dive wholeheartedly into the stories and lives on those pages.

True story: One day last fall, after a flaring of tempers, you stormed off in a fit of tears. It was only later that evening as you and I were walking the dog that you told me that you had gathered up a flashlight and an apple, and had hiked across the street to the horse pasture, where you had secured a secret spot under the trees and planned to spend the night. As you shared with me the details of your plan and showed me your spot, you explained that part of the plan was getting away because you were mad, but mostly, you just wanted to have an adventure like Henry, Jessie, Violet, and Benny (The Boxcar Children). In the most honest and sincere voice I have ever heard, you explained in great detail how much you loved that they were always having adventures and how they were always helping people. I think it ranks in the top 5 of the sweetest moments I can remember. And, it is this story I will flash to when you announce you are joining the Peace Corps.

Oscar & Felix and their other brother Felix

You and your brother. Hm. No delicate way to launch into this one. You two are the Odd Couple. I’ll leave it up to you to figure out which one you are. To be fair though, our whole house is kind of a study in contrasts. There are many jokes that have swirled around over the past year about how we should be renamed The Lastwordigans, or the Loudersons, or The-Always-Have-to-Be-Right-Even-When-I’m-Clearly-Wrong-smiths. No one in this family is shy about voicing their opinion. Or controls the volume at which they do it. Let’s just say that when it comes to the roles in this family, the concrete has set. And as fate would have it, there is definitely some alignment of personalities from parent to child going on. In one corner we have your father and your brother. Their corner is a series of piles of stuff and things and more stuff and it is organized in a methodical fashion that we are prohibited from touching because of its supreme importance. In the other corner is you, although we can’t see you because you are buried under a chaotic pile of everything you own, and you are probably reading a book. I am somewhere in the middle shaking my head at the lot of you, making a sarcastic remark and pouring another glass of wine.

Here is a set of photos I took during Christmas dinner this year:

You look like you extracted your crab by haphazardly smashing it repeatedly with a hammer, with speed-metal playing in the background.

Your father, on the other hand, looks like he used a scalpel and forceps, while a nice Beethoven concerto wafted through the air.

Oscar, meet Felix. You’re both crazy.

The Quilts

We completed a complete full cycle of “firsts” without your Uncle Scott this year. Each holiday and birthday and anniversary of this or that was insanely tough, and will no doubt continue to be. It is amazing how this grief cycle works. For weeks, we are fine, then either your Dad or I will have an odd day, or an especially vivid dream, and we feel like it all just happened. This year, your Grandma Judy embarked on the emotional journey of making a quilt for each of you out of Uncle Scott’s shirts and jeans. In addition to the quilts, she built a book that compiled the quilt-making process from beginning to end. I can think of no better way for the two of you to keep him close as the years inevitably whittle at your memories.

Family is family, is family, is us

I think it is important to point out that the 4 of us have really come a long way over the last year or two. We are figuring each other out, and exercising a lot more understanding for the idiosyncrasies and quirks that we all bring to the table. I have watched you do some pretty amazing things when it comes to understanding your brother’s intensity or the needs of your friends. Or even the needs of others, for that matter. In lieu of birthday gifts, you asked all your friends to bring food that you could donate to the food bank. Pretty awesome, Stel.

You are so very different from your brother, which has made it more challenging for me to be sure I am giving you both what you need, as opposed to giving you what it appears you need. Your brother wears his needs on his sleeve, whereas yours are a little more buried. I find that I often overlook them because I don’t see them. But that is something I am working on – trying to be more patient with you, when you are not yourself. You’re tough and resilient, which often masks the fact that you are also vulnerable and sensitive. You will always be the older sibling, and I will always have expectations of you that seem unfair. But that is our lot in life, us older siblings – I know, I’m one too.

So Happy Birthday my goofy, creative, outgoing and intelligent daughter. I know I say it every year, but you’re one-of-a-kind, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Love,
Mom