Aahhh.

Every year, our family vacation to the Northwoods of Wisconsin seems almost surreal once it is over....too beautiful and reviving to the senses to have actually happened outside of our dreams.  

This year we were treated by the universe to a spectacular meteor shower.   It was Aidan's first,  and he was properly awe-struck.  The night was perfect :  cool, clear, sliver of the moon dark,  and scented with cedar wood smoke.  I hope to hug the memory of that night close forever.....and for the other three of us to do the same.

I was blissed out to run through beautiful, wild landscapes (and was told that I narrowly missed happening upon a she-bear with two cubs!).  We had a family of bald eagles nesting yards from the cabin.  Loons chatted with us in their wistful language just off the pier.  Does with their fawns made the occasional appearance.  We were reminded that nature is truly magical and a treasure to behold.

The fishing was entertaining, the beach waters crystal clear, and the trip to the sand bar yielded an exploring party to the island that has held Delaney's intrigue for three years.  Boating and laughing with my dad and stepmother makes the trip even richer for the kids to create grandparent memories to keep.

We reconnected as a family and enjoyed the company of each other.  Now, we wait 51 weeks until our next visit to our Northwoods vacation respite.   Until then, I vow to wrap myself in the fresh calmness gained by breathing pine-scented air and in the peace that comes from taking quality time with the ones I love.

Aidan's birthday has come and gone.  He's a big kid of 6 years and 2 weeks as of today.  His birth was during a flurry of anxious activity for our family.  We moved from Milwaukee to the country (or so it seemed) 13 days before he arrived.  The move was a blur with Rob working a new job with a long commute and no time off, me ending a career the day before the move, Delaney being 3, and all of us trying to adjust to all the changes that we made and that have made us.

What is a wonder to me is that this child, born during a tumultuous time, has taught me to slow it down.  Because he is here, I stopped working.  I learned (and am learning) to take a moment.  He has been a gift to us, because he has made our family complete.

Happy 6 years and 2 weeks, Aidan.  You have gone from being our Cantaloupe to becoming our Finn.  We love you for your gentle soul, quirky humor, musical heart, love for all things sports, and all that makes you YOU.

Off Balance

Balance, not so good. Must practice! The Quiet Game was easier, surprisingly. I will give it a day or two and try it some more. I think I need yoga (without the sidekicks) and a bit of a respite. All will be well.

Two of the Main Reasons for Finding Balance:  See Photo Above

Two of the Main Reasons Finding Balance is Tough:  See Photo Above

I love my two little off-kilter makers.

It's Not all Sweat and Itchiness

I wait all year for summer.  Overall, I am more of a autumn person though, and I love winter and spring too.  However, as a former teacher and a daughter of a teacher, summer has always signaled freedom and a chance to catch up.  (And a time to be broke as a teacher and daughter of a teacher, but that's ok.  Not complaining.)  Summer is a time to absorb nature, feel the warmth of the sun, sleep with the windows open, grow things, swim in lakes, replace pasty white skin with a healthy tan.  Living in a part of the U.S. where we sort of jokingly say that winter is 8 months long is just a slight exaggeration most years.

This year was different.  Winter came with a wimper and left the same way.  The kids didn't get any snow days for school.  I think I only shoveled twice.  We never got the piles of white, sparkly snow to cover the sooty roads and dead-looking landscape.  It was not freezing outside.  We never got the chance to build a snowman, feel the satisfaction of hot cocoa, or hunker down and hide for awhile.  It was utterly disappointing. 

So, we looked toward summer.  This would be a time to be doing the opposite of what winter gave us.  Instead of looking at the almost-not-even-winter landscape from inside our not-quite-frigid-weather coats, we'd get to fully live a season.  Um, not so fast.  This has so far been the uber-summer.  You want hot?  How about many days in a row over 95 degrees F?  You want sun?  How about the scorching variety, the kind without any rain for weeks on end?  Plants are shriveling.  Blacktop surfaces are buckling.  This is not what we had planned.  (and I can only imagine how the poor farmers are dealing with this)

BUT!  We decided to take matters into our own hands.  We threw a bunch of stuff in the mini van, let the kids listen to Radio Disney for awhile, and drove toward redemption.  Our brief escape from the blistering agony hasn't ended the drought or settled the "water the grass or let it go dormant" debate, but we are enjoying the season and each other.  Even sweating at the beach isn't so bad.  Having a cooler of junk food treats and beer doesn't hurt either.

How'd Day One of my Summer Games go, you ask?  The Quiet Game was an effort.  I did pretty well though, and the kids had a happily quieter day.  They found things to do and fought less.  The only snag came when I was trying to sneak in 30 minutes of yoga while they were eating lunch.  After a few minutes, they were both in the same room with me, watching the yoga DVD as if it was for their own entertainment.  Then Aidan brought his lunch to the couch.  After a minute, Delaney crept to the edge the couch nearest my yoga mat while reading her book.  Suddenly, she was on the floor right next to me, and I had to make an effort to not knock into her while moving from pose to pose.  My ohm in jeopardy, I yelled (but only a little) for everyone to leave the room and return to their lunch unless they wanted to count my yoga DVD as a big chunk of their daily screen time.  Overall though, Quiet felt good.  I like it.

Today's Challenge:  The Balance Game.

Heat Wave Survival

It has been hot where we live.  Hot here and just about everywhere else, at least that's what the weather reports show.  I am sure I'm not alone as a mother in wondering how much more canned-cool air living her children can take without murdering each other.  Also, I am running out of creative indoor activities or outdoor quick-before-heatstroke-strikes games I can create.

The 9-year old daughter is crabby (but knows everything, and knows we are all wrong all the time).  The six-year old son's goofy sense of humor and knack for imitating his sister's voice is pushing her over the edge.  Me?  I am hanging on.  Barely.  Wine and chocolate time cannot come soon enough each day, and my quest to cut back on the days of the week I indulge in these soothers has been abandoned indefinitely.

I have decided to play a little game unbeknownst to the small people here to help me focus on somethings other than the heat, the dislike of a/c and what it does to my body/mind (ie:  smoky voice and headaches/mental autopilot with a stuck dimmer switch). 

So, in the spirit of all things Olympic (as we get closer to the Summer Games) and Olympian (as I make the effort to not be crabby and to make the summer adventurous and fun for my family), my first little quest for sanity game is this:  The Quiet Game.

It is easy to fall into the yelling trap.  Kids not listening when I've asked them (nicely and repeatedly) to make the beds?  Yell.  Kids roughhousing and bugging each other AGAIN?  Yell.  Kids (see a theme developing?) oh forget it, you get the picture.  It's not all them either.  I have just gotten lazy with the heat and stopped working as hard as I could with being the sort of mom who doesn't yell.  My bad.

Today, I will use quiet when I want to yell.  Count to ten, zip it and move on, ignore, whatever.  It should be interesting to see what effect it has on the rest of the house.  (Although, wine and chocolate might have to start at noon to win this game.)  Tomorrow, I'll let you know how it went.

The Birds, The Birds!!

I have never really understood the fascination some people have with birds and watching them intently.  My mind conjures up binoculars and safari hat attached to a badly camouflaged middle aged person in a tree.  Never got it that is,  until we moved out into the wild (Compared to living in Milwaukee for years, we live in the wild now.  Trust me.)  Plus, I really got scared from that Hitchcock movie.  You know the one.

Now, I keep my field guide of Wisconsin birds next to the deck window.  We have food for birds of all shapes and sizes, and they seem to love us for it.  We've got cardinals, blue jays, indigo buntings, hummingbirds, mourning doves, orioles (as they pass through...very exciting!), chickadees, and so many more.

Because of the sassy raccoon who likes to climb up at night to our second-story deck to wreak havoc (and cause Rob to wonder aloud if it will get in and kill us all in our beds), I bring in the feeders each night.  This is what has become of me:  I tend to get up before 5 a.m. (woken by the chaos of bird sounds) to take out the feeders, lest they find another place to flutter and perch.  So, I might not quite be the safari-hatted, binoculars-wearing, middle-aged yahoo....but I am closer to that little horror than I used to be, that's for sure.  That's ok.  It's worth it.

P.S.  Don't repeat this, but Rob's a little leary about the deer out here possibly attacking too.  Poor thing.

Quite Fancy

Delaney Jane has her first "high heels."  In reality, the heel is roughly one inch.  She loves them for their clickety-clack.  Yesterday she wore them after playing baseball with her shorts and t-shirt.  Ah, I love my big little girl.