musings of Mother Hood

Toddler Truancy

2010-07-27T22:22:04-05:00

We have a love-hate relationship with the rules at daycare.

Jeff and I are both, generally, rule-followers. And we chose our daycare after careful consideration of the facilities, the atmosphere, and the policies. So we knew going in. We knew about the inclement weather policy and the biting policy and the rules about fever and the hours of operation and the vacation schedule. All of it. It all sounded perfectly reasonable when we were looking for daycares last summer and we eagerly signed on the dotted line.

And 99% of the time it's smooth sailing. Colt doesn't really get sick that often and their hours of operation and vacation days more or less line up with ours. And the inclement weather policy typically affects the whole darn town on the same days, so it's not really an issue.

But today. Today was one of the days that the rules were working against us.

If I knew then what I know now, I would still have signed all that paperwork last August, but I would have included a disclaimer: I agree to come pick up my child from school if he runs a fever over 101 degrees BUT I reserve the right to bring him STRAIGHT BACK as soon as his Ferris Bueller act wears off.

The fever thing.

Oy.

I got a call this morning that he had a fever of 101.4 and was acting "a little clingy" - which, to be fair, is pretty unusual. So home he went. Then to the doctor we went. Then back home - conspicuously bypassing the pharmacy. I'd say 4 of our last 5 doctor's visits ended this way. Nothing wrong with him. Ears are perfect. No wheezing. He has a cough? Ok, do a couple puffs of Albuterol a few times a day for the next few days - but no biggie. And try some Zyrtec at night for the runny nose. But he's PERFECTLY FINE. And! No sign of fever! And, let me tell you!, his energy level isn't suffering!

Truth be told, we had a good run. I think it's been since March or April. I feel like we should have one of those signs you see in warehouses and workplaces -- keeping count of the days since the last incident.

This child has attended 87 days of daycare without running a freakishly temporary and completely harmless fever. The previous record was too pathetic to even mention.

Yeah, for a while there during the winter we were lucky to get in a full week of school! And - those of you with kids know that if he gets sent home with a fever, he has to stay out for a full 24 hours. Which means my man Ferris will be home again tomorrow. Such a stressful life he leads.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times

2010-07-26T07:45:00-05:00

When did life get so complicated? At what point did it start being about decisions and money and responsibility? I hope I didn't set that up as if I'm about to provide some answers. I wish.

It's true what they say. Parenting is hard. Harder than it looks. And you find yourself having an inner dialogue with your self-confidence, trying to convince it that 2 is hard, but 3 will be easier. Years old, that is. If I can just get past this or if he would just grow out of that -- things will be different and the smooth sailing will begin. And then you actually get to that next stage and you become painfully aware of all the fruitless, wishful thinking.

And it's not just parenting. I've been thinking a lot about growing up. My high school reunion is this weekend. Ten years. Have I done ten years worth of growing up? In high school, you make plans that are only barely based in any semblance of reality. You make promises to yourself and to your friends about staying in touch and meeting at THIS restaurant every year for the rest of eternity to laugh at THIS joke and everything will be the same as it ever was and we will always be friends, the end. And then life happens. And at first, you feel terrible if you don't make it home during every break from college. You feel like you're missing out. You miss high school and the way things used to be. But over time you do some growing up and you start becoming the person you're supposed to be, and you let high school get a little further away.

And then you look up and it's been ten years. And you realize that you've spent the last couple years really diving into your new, grown up life. And that you're really happy with the way things are starting to happen. And you find yourself wondering about those people in high school. Those friends you thought you'd never be able to leave behind. And you realize it's been years since you've seen some of them. And you can't wait to reconnect and find out what they've been doing with their own grown up selves. You already feel happy for them and can't wait to hug a little, cry a little, and smile for pictures that you'll be digging off your hard drive in another ten years.

Colt won't go with us to the reunion this weekend but I'll probably think of him the entire time. I already have trouble making sense of it all when I try to think of my High School Self and my Grown Up Self - all in the same day. I dug out the scrapbook I made of my senior year and have flipped through it several times in the last week. The girl in those pictures is barely recognizable. In many ways. The me in the pictures these days is toting (or chasing!) a toddler little boy. I have a job and responsibilities, and daily decisions to make. And the girl in that scrapbook is performing on stage in a school musical or painting a house on a youth mission trip or with friends at a high school pep rally. She THINKS her life is dramatic and complicated. What with homework and play practice and college decisions to make. Who IS that girl?

I remember being really hard on myself in high school. Maybe more so then than now. I remember feeling that I'd never be able to keep it together and I'd never be a good decision maker and I'd never learn to truly feel comfortable with myself. Poor, poor me.

And while I'm still hard on myself sometimes, I've decided that the only way that the Sarahs at either end of these ten years can coexist, is to accept each other for what they are and who they are/were genuinely trying to become. They've been MY ten years. And I'm happy with them. And I think I needed all ten years to pass before I would be able to look back on that girl in the pictures - and be proud of her.

I think maybe acceptance is my favorite part of parenting, so far. Kids have no concept of imperfection and no capacity for judgment. To a two year old, there are no two more enthralling, perfect people in the whole wide stinkin' world than Mama and Dada. Colt doesn't care how long it's been since I dusted and he doesn't care that I'm not a great driver. He doesn't even care if I'm sometimes so tired that I have to make up some of the words as I go along, he sits in my lap and listens with the sweetest look on his face - as if he's never heard anything more enchanting than the sound of my voice singing "The Itsy Bitsy Spider". And on the most complicated of days, when the decisions are the toughest and the responsibilities are the most trying, I always know there's a Little Guy waiting for me with a grin that could melt steel and a heart the size of Texas who loves me despite it all. Take THAT, high school.

The Great Family Vacation of 2010

2010-07-19T07:35:00-05:00

I honestly don't know what it is that allows me to believe it's possible to go away for a week with five other adults and one energetic two year old and do any relaxing. But relaxing is boring, right? AND, at the last minute, we had three more join our crew! My Mom's youngest brother Jan and his two kiddos - Elliot and Jessica - drove down from Sioux Falls to hang out for the week. And, as evidenced by the 1,121 photos I took, we had A BALL. (That number is actually NOT an exaggeration. I got a little shutter-happy.)

I'll spare you (and your computers) the heartache and TRY to post only my favorites -- but it's still a lot, so click below if you have the stomach for it.

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Now then.

While we originally had dreams of taking Colt to the beach for the first time this summer, we decided we weren't up for driving 16 hours with a squirmy two year old. So we drove the four gloriously short hours to Osage Beach, Missouri instead. Tan-Tar-A. I'd heard about it from friends and we decided it was perfect for our group. And with Jan, Elliot and Jessica we ended up with seven adults and three kiddos - not a bad crew!

We got to Tan-Tar-A on Saturday, in time for supper and bedtime. But Sunday! We ventured out to find some trouble adventure. Evidently, we're early risers. Well, earlier than the people who work at the pool. So we waited for 9 am to roll around by exploring the marina and saying good morning to the fish and ducks.

But then! Pool! Oh my word, this child. With the water. He thinks he can swim. And has zero fear of the water. I try very hard to see that as a positive thing, trust me. But we came prepared with various floatation devices anyway. Over the course of the week, Colt wore arm floaties, used a pint-sized swim ring or wore his life jacket -- depending on the need. We tried all three and the ring seemed to work best in the pool. So we went with it.

And then - the most fun this kid has had his entire life. The Big Green Slide. There was a nice, long water slide right next to the main pool. And we all took turns going down with Colt. The first day I hadn't quite mastered taking good photos of the ear-to-ear grins coming off the end of that slide, but there are more later. MANY more. Here's a little taste.

Sunday night was dinner at The Happy Fisherman, which we were hoping would be a cute, local place brimming with charm and character and friendly service. We didn't quite get what we were looking for... but no one went hungry. I think they were having an off night - but the atmosphere was fun!

The next two mornings, the boys got up and played golf. Unfortunately, my request for action photos of their golf outing was denied. Shocking, I know. So you'll have to use your imagination to picture Jan and Jeff enjoying their Boys' Day Out at the course. But as a consolation prize, there's this:

Grandma insisted that we all pose for a quick photo as the boys were heading to the golf course and the rest of us were headed to the pool Monday morning. Left to Right is Jan, Sarah, Jeff, Becky, Laura, Jessica, Elliot, and Grandpa/Colt.

After a short morning in the pool --

And while the boys were golfing, we inquired about activities on the lake. Which means...

Parasailing? Check!

Yep. Captain Miles and his sidekick Richie took us out on the beautiful lake so we could try our hand at Parasailing. I was a little worried Colt would be afraid of the boat - but I'm obviously ridiculous. He loved every second. The speed. The water. The wind.

Becky went first - such a trooper. And Colt was totally fine with it. Waving, smiling, enjoying the excitement.

But when it was Mama's turn, he wasn't quite so supportive. Poor little guy was a little concerned with what was happening, but managed to keep it together enough to cheer me on.

Couple things. First, parasailing is REALLY fun. Second, you are WAY the heck up there. It feels MUCH higher than it looks. But after several minutes of white-knuckling the harness, I decided to live a little and let go. So relaxing. If you can put aside the fact that you're 400+ feet in the air... Strapped to a parachute and fastened to a speed boat by no more than this puny little knot.

We made it down in one piece and Colt was able to breathe again. Grandma and Elliot went up after us and Colt was back to enjoying himself. You'll notice below that I had a pretty good grip on the loop on the back of his life jacket. At one point, we cut through some seriously choppy water and everyone in the boat went airborne for a second. Colt practically went flying. After that, a hand through the life jacket handle was no longer just an over-cautious Mama gesture...

The boys eventually made it back from golfing to be regaled with parasailing stories, and we all got cleaned up for supper. Before supper, the whole group humored me and my attempts to get a nice family photo. None of us can really remember the last time we all got dressed and posed for an honest to goodness family picture. So it was about darn time. Here we are - Martin Family circa 2010.

Jeff and I always make it a point to get our photo taken in sunglasses - can't really remember when or why it started, but one of my favorite photos from our wedding day is one with our shades on. So, of course, we had to try and get a sunglasses pic of the gang.

Then, as long as we were all dolled up and having such a great time (absolutely melting in the sun...) we decided to take MORE. (Thanks again, everyone, for being such good sports.)

We waited to take the Hood Family Photo until the end, and Colt was done posing - not to mention we were all melting from the heat. So it's not "the perfect photo", but it's us. :)

That night, dinner was at a little place called Mexicali Blues - which was wonderful! Colt and his chicken strips were invited to eat at the end of the table with Grandma and Grandpa, so off they went. Later, I looked over to catch Grandpa helping Colt determine which was his drink (milk) and which was Grandma's drink (margarita!).

We had good dinner and good company, and Colt took the opportunity to show Grandma his (nonexistent) boo-boos. Such a pitiful little thing.

By Tuesday, I'd gotten much better at using the multi-shot function on my camera and was able to capture some pretty priceless smiles coming off the end of The Big Green Slide.

(If you haven't been clicking on these to see them larger/full size, now's the time.)

It's worth mentioning that it's a lot harder than it looks to slide while holding a giggling two year old. Somehow Aunt Becky was the best at it. By the second day she could get both of them down the slide with no one's head going under water!

Also, this slide is largely why I ended up taking so many photos that week. It takes bursts of 6 or 7 at a time, so it's easy to accumulate lots of pictures in a short amount of time. Also... Grandma had the camera for a bit and before she got the hang of it, she took more than a few bursts of photos of an empty slide... And complete strangers... It's ok Grandma! You came around!

Here's a shot from the top of the slide.

And Mama on the slide.

Then it was time to dry out a little and hit the playground. It was post-nap, pre-dinner but it felt like a SAUNA. We were dripping with sweat but Colt paid no mind. He loved this little playground and Grandma, Grandpa and Elliot even got in on the action.

Supper - sadly - was another dud. This time it was another local place called Jake Culpeeper's Cattle Company. We would find out too late that it is the sister restaurant of The Happy Fisherman. After waiting over an hour for our food, it was actually very good, but the little guy doesn't have much room for a lot of extra patience in that little body, so he got a little antsy. All in all we had a good dinner and enjoyed the company.

Last day! We spent the morning at the pool - where else? And went down the slide about 600 more times. Can't get too much of a good thing, right?

We came. We swam. We parasailed. We slid. We had a really good vacation and can't wait to get back to Tan-Tar-A someday. Happy Summer, Martin Family!

Pose in front of Grauman’s Chinese Theater? Check!

2010-07-12T08:07:55-05:00

While it wasn’t necessarily our intention to hit opposite ends of the spectrum during our trip to California, I think we did it with flying colors.

After waking up Sunday morning in a tent at 11,300 feet and spending the first half of the day descending the tallest mountain in the lower 48 states --- we decided to spend the second half of the day in - where else? - Hollywood! After finishing up with our climbing group around noon, we hopped in the car and drove the 200 miles into Los Angeles, where we would catch our flight home the next morning.

Reminder: We hadn't showered in three days. And we'd spent those three days sweating up and down a mountain. Let's just say, we'd had better hair days. But it was too early to check into a hotel, and we knew darn well that if we DID get showers, we would relax and take a good, long nap before we'd venture back out into the traffic and crowds - and we'd waste our last half day of "vacation".

So to Hollywood we went. We found a spot in a parking garage on Hollywood Boulevard and scavenged around in the trunk of the car to find some deodorant and clean(ish) shirts. After changing clothes in the parking garage like homeless people, and deciding that we probably didn't look (or smell!) THAT bad, we ventured out and tried our best to blend in with all the other tourists.

First stop - Grauman's Chinese Theater. A moment of silence. I have wanted to visit this place for as long as I can remember. It's my Graceland. And I couldn't wait. We decided to go all out and take The Official Tour. For $12.50. Each. Yeah, I know. We're suckers. But we totally lucked out on tour guides. We got the funny, opinionated British lady who spent the tour trying to convince us that she ACTUALLY knows most of the people in the sidewalk and imparting her personal two cents about the movie they were showing (Splice - of which she thinks Adrien Brody should be ashamed), and who DESERVES to be in the cement and who doesn't and what a tragedy it is that so-and-so isn't there and how "absolutely dreadful" it would be if someone like - gasp! - Miley Cyrus or Lindsay Lohan somehow made the cut. We felt like we got our $12.50 worth out of her "comedy routine" - she was great! She warned us that time is ticking. Only two squares of cement are christened each year and there are 45 empty squares left. AND you have to have been in the business for at least five years. So if you have any aspirations for Hollywood - you better get on it!

They've preserved several original things about the building - all the way down to the Ladies Room downstairs, which our tour guide claims has remained unchanged since the 20s and I sat at one of the vanities pretending that Marilyn Monroe once sat there. Or maybe Judy Garland. Though I couldn't have felt less glamorous in my dusty clothes and gritty hair.

We walked up and down Hollywood Boulevard a bit, grabbed some dinner, and then tackled our next challenge - finding the Hollywood sign in the hills. Everyone says you "can see it from anywhere in the city" and I know I'd seen many references of it on TV and in movies -- it should be just right there, right? No. It's as if they've made it a game. We searched. We drove around. We Googled it. Eventually we found a website that claims to list "Ideal Photo Spots". So we headed toward the closest one - Franklin & Gower. And this is the "Ideal Photo" I took. This is cropped/zoomed as close as possible. But we found it!

We eventually found a hotel room and absolutely crashed. I don't know that I've ever needed a shower that badly. But we had such a good California weekend -- from Lone Pine to Hollywood!

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