Cashing in our McDonald’s bucks
Yesterday we came to the realization that Steve’s precious Hot Rod Neon is not going to make it much longer. Even though this has been a painfully obvious fact to me, he has had a serious case of denial. Nevermind that the gas gague doesn’t work, the auto door locks are intermittent, the rear defrost mechanism is broken, the stereo doesn’t work, the left blinker goes on when you hit the brakes, the headlights have a defect that makes them fog up from the inside and it has an oil leak which has allowed him to not have to change the oil (only add new) for the last 50,000 miles. The only thing it has going for it is that you can get, like, 150 miles to the gallon.
His optimism that the car would last us for another 2 years was noticeably tempered when he had to be jumped twice yesterday in a matter of 10 minutes. Yes, it is probably just a battery issue, but both of us are in agreement that – for all of its flaws – there is a sort of harmonious environment that has been created within that car, and once that environment is breached with any kind of repair, it will set that environment off-balance, and the whole system will begin to shut down. Once we break that oily seal that is holding everything together, pieces will probably start falling off.
The thought of getting a new car isn’t that bad (except the shopping and buying part – I’d rather chew off my own arm then have to deal with a car salesman), it is getting a new car payment that is where the real pain begins. Throughout the course of our entire relationship we have never had a car payment, so how fitting that the same month we take on a new car payment we also take on a new day care payment. And so we began brainstorming: wouldn’t it be great if car dealerships would allow you to cash in all your miscellaneous cash-value items like gift cards, lottery tickets, coffee stamp cards and McDonald’s bucks?
March of the Walstons
We were informed by the Ministry of Brethren, Kinfolk and Progenitors that our official Family Card will not be issued until we provide proof that all four of us have survived a long-range road trip together. Lucky for us, our summer odyssey was a success, and we should be receiving it any day now. There were so many special circumstances that I am thinking of asking that we be awarded special supplemental certification in the following areas:
Packing
Due to the frequent number of times that he was forced to load and unload the car, Steve is considering a second career as a professional car packer. One of his trademark tools is that of the handled shopping bag. No matter how much luggage we own, when it comes to road trips, he insists that we use duffel bags and shopping bags. Being that we only have two decent duffel bags, and 4 members of our family (one of them being an infant), you can imagine the number of handled shopping bags required to confine our gear. I made small inroads suggesting we use some of my larger tote bags, but we still ended up leaving town with an array of shopping bags from all of the finer shopping establishments of the greater Humboldt County shopping districts. Somewhere around day 6 or so, I suggested we have a family meeting to discuss the purchase of 2 new duffel bags. I am proud to say that each member of the Walston family now has it’s own individual duffel bag. Look out middle class! Here we come!
Carsickness
There was one thing every Anderson road trip had in common: I would at some point, get carsick. Recently, the amount of time I have had to spend either in the backseat, or turned around to attend to a kid who has dumped a container of yogurt all over herself, has made me realize that although it has been latent for a good part of my adult life, my car-sickness is definitely still there – waiting just under the surface, willing me to want to crawl into a ball on the floorboard. It is for this reason that I play Morgan Freeman to Steve’s Jessica Tandy in our own demented version of Driving Miss Daisy. So, it came as no surprise as we heard those dreaded words from Stella: “My tummy hurts!” Quicker than you can say “Drug me up!”, we had her chewing up half a Dramamine, and waiting for the happy sleep magic to begin. No such luck. Apparently my children won’t even sleep when plied with drugs. The upside, however, was that although she reported not feeling so good numerous times throughout our time on the road, she didn’t – during any of our travels – show us the contents of her stomach.
Hazardous Environmnents
We did our best to escape the heat by heading to Mineral King for a couple of days. Unlike the Walston Cabin, which is a very nice house that happens to be located in the mountains, the cabin my parents have access to is a dwelling that dates back to the early 1900’s – complete with delapidated deck, separate bathroom outbuilding, firepit and a creek just a few short feet away. It was comfortable and inviting, and provided Stella with about a thousand new ways in which to experience nature. Whether it was walking off the deck (twice), or wading (fully clothed) waist-deep in the creek, or burning marshmallows over the campfire, or spending the entire 3 days covered head to toe in dirt, she would leave no pine-cone unturned. But she came back alive, and with all her appendages. And to know my daughter and her lack of a fear instinct, that is saying a lot.
Watersports (and other recreational activities)
My parents never invested in a pool – instead choosing to pawn off their children on all the neighbors and family friends who did have one. So naturally, I was proud to introduce Stella to the wonderful world of Anderson water sports: a bucket and a sprinkler. Needless to say, she loved it. But it wasn’t until we introduced her to the cement pond over at Camp Walston that she realized her true water superpowers. After about 3 minutes of coyly contemplating the landscape she was headed for the deep-end with nothing but her Carmen Miranda suit, a heavy slathering of 48 spf, and a hot pink pair of water wings. Duck, meet water. She got so arrogant at one point that she demanded we take her water wings off – no matter how much we tried to explain to her their key role in her success. She waded out to the shallow-end only to lift her feet and sink like a stone. Point made. Between the pool and the brand new commercial-grade play structure, it was like having one gigantic hamster wheel that would exhaust her into napping submission.
We plunked Porter in the pool a couple of times so he could watch his sister do her patrols of the water toys, but overall he tended towards the more logical activites – more specifically, those which kept him comfortably within the range of the air conditioner. He wowed us all with his ability to grab at the toys we obediently dangled in front of him, cooed and gurgled conversation and suckered us all into lolling around on the floor with him. Lucky for him, his sister was distracted enough with her own mini Disneyland that she actually left him alone for once.
Rest is for the Weak
Upon leaving the valley, we headed for one final stop in the bay area to visit the fun-time-candyland known as Uncle Thad and Aunt Celene’s house. After playing a bit of musical beds (Celene being the lucky winner stuck with Stella-the-sideways-sleeper) we managed to find a way to fit 6 people into a two-bedroom apartment. Stella managed to finagle some quality pool time, and Porter was stuck going on wedding errands with Celene and I. Dudes love that kind of stuff.
We made it home without incident and were glad for the opportunity to change things up a bit. And as usual, there are photos of all of it.
Whew!
We’re back, have an empty fridge, a full memory card, a filthy house and about a million blog posts waiting to be unleashed. Be patient, because we also still have two very demanding children who will see to it that none of these tasks is addressed with any kind of efficiency.
The Voices Made Me Do It
We are finally getting to a point where we no longer fear an untimely death at the hand of our precious first born. Not that she is all that much more stable, but we at least have become a little more on the ball in terms of watching our backs. This was due to a couple of factors:
Education
We hit the books. In going back through the Walston Child-Rearing Library, we unearthed some of the books we had either purchased or been given way back when she first began to exhibit the ability to breathe fire, shoot nails from the palms of her hands and explode small animals with the sound of her voice. Then, of course, there was the Internet. As they say, misery loves company, and it was much to our delight that there are PLENTY of parents out there who have children who, apparently, all came from the same factory with the same warranty and fine print. The warranty that expires the moment they are born and is accompanied with the fine print that says simply, “NO RETURNS, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES. EVER.”
Among other things, we learned that, developmentally, two year olds – much like 82 year olds – are creatures of habit. They like to wear the same outfits, eat the same foods, watch the same things on tv, follow the same routines, pretty much anything new needs to be run by committee first and be completed with 6 signatures before it will be even considered as a new addition to the daily routine. I think this is one of those things they call a lightbulb moment. Oooooohhhhhh, so that explains why – although her book collection rivals the county library – we have read the same 6 books for both nap and bedtime for going on a month now; and why whenever we try to dig something out of her closet that she is days from outgrowing, she stages an all out protest – complete with picket signs and chanting – chaining herself to her bed until we let her wear the striped fleece pants…for the 3rd day in a row; and why whenever we try to introduce a new DVD into the rotation she resists as though we have suggested she watch championship golf.
So then when we threw in the mother of all routine changers – a newborn – she had no choice but to kick it in to high gear – it’s all a matter of wiring.
The Back-off Factor
Steve and I came to the realization that we had to lighten up a little. In the name of raising a child that people actually want to be around, we tend to be fairly restrictive in what we let her get away with – something that has created way more distress than necessary. It became imperative that Steve and I do our best to fight our instinctive responses to quell Stella’s constant need to insist on playing with the algae in the backyard fountain, spend the better part of her outdoor time turning snails into hand lotion and chewing the covers off her entire DVD collection. Now, when she does something like RUB YOGURT ALL OVER THE FRONT OF THE KITCHEN CABINETS, we just ignore her until she is done, clean it up and ask her not to do it again. Because if there is one thing we have managed to learn is that discerning between impulse and attention-seeking behaviors is one of the key methods to keeping our sanity.
Learning her Tells
The impulsive and irrational components of Stella’s personality – or of any 2 year old – often make it hard to distinguish motive. Is this something she is doing because she just can’t help herself or is this something she is doing – knowing, full well, that it is the last thing she should be doing? Through some miracle of parenting, we have managed to gain some understanding on motive. She has developed some tells that make it much easier for us to decode her actions. It is as though some internal switch gets thrown and her voice changes, her energy level shifts and she begins doing everything while keeping direct eye contact with whichever of us is closest. This is the way we can tell whether she is biting us on the leg because the voices told her to or because she is purposely trying to make us want to pull our own hair.
Ultimately, this week gave us hope. And optimism. And the realization that if the day goes wrong enough times you eventually will just begin to laugh. And laugh, and laugh, and laugh we did.