As Plain as the Mud on my Face!

Oh! How I wish I had pictures of this great story to share with you, but alas, they are feeble.

Camping. It’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but we really enjoy it. Spending time outside soaking up the smell and sights and sounds of God’s creation is exhilarating to us.Two weeks ago we hooked up with four other families and ventured off to spend four days in the great outdoors. Bliss!

The very first day, several people went hiking, but one other dad (Dad #2) and myself stayed behind to watch the crowd of kids who wanted to take a dip in the creek and swim in the pool. Yes, this campground had a pool. Posh, I realize. The sun was shining, the wind was refraining from tousling our hair and the gurgling of the creek was calling to us.

Look very closely at the small patch of brick-colored muddy bank on the left side of this picture. It seems harmless. It was not. That was the slipperiest mud on God’s green earth. I told the girls several times, “Be careful! The mud is slippery!” The girls dragged me, my backpack and my folding chair to a place up the creek to a delectable rope swing with four huge knots. To my surprise, all three girls took turns swinging out over the water, but not dropping in as it was a tad chilly. I was standing still in the slippery mud. Then I was lying face down in the awful tasting slippery mud. In between those two events there was a loud scream and involuntary throwing of the backpack and the folding chair. I landed on my knees, my elbows and my face. Lovely. I so wish I had a picture of my mud-caked self. Slowly I stood and started to wipe the mud off my arms and face and spit out the mud and gravel that didn’t taste so yummy.

The kids who I was “watching” and five other boys circled me with mouths a gaping and wide eyes. Mama down. Red Alert! Using my water bottle, one of the boys (a stranger!) slowly poured into my hands so I could “wash” them and then rinse my face. I knew I needed a shower but then one of the other boys yelled, “Your leg is bleeding really badly!” Glancing down, I noticed the front of one shin was muddy brown and the other was bright red. Blood red, to be exact.  A large gash was just starting to pain me in my right knee. We poured some of the bottled water on the cut and then I held it shut with Kleenex, because we all know that Kleenex is sanitary and won’t fall apart or get inside a large gash.

The girls ran to find Dad #2. The boys ran off too, I wasn’t sure where. Slowly I limped up the path, holding my Kleenexed knee. The first campsite I arrived at harbored a full-on 38-foot motor coach, complete with a fancy “camping” lady with large, coiffed blonde hair, a long skinny cigarette, a three carat diamond ring on her manicured tennis-bracelet-ed hand and a newly-shaved white poodle with a green bow on each ear. At first site of a muddy, bloody woman limping out of the jungle she dropped that poor dog, put her smoke on a wood pile (!) and ran for her hose to help me get cleaned up. When asked what I needed I requested a cup of water to rinse and spit several times. The kind lady hosed off my pants, legs and shoes. I remember mentioning her smoking woodpile at some point, and there wasn’t a fire later, so she must have taken care of it.

Some of the boys who had witnessed my downfall returned with their very German father and a very well equipped first aid kit. At this point Dad #2 from our group drove up with the rescue vehicle. I was patched up and put in the car on several of the kind lady’s towels. Five stitches, three x-rays and three hours later, we were back at the campground eating grilled cheese sandwiches.  Easy peasey.

Five stitches. No biggie. I figured it would slow me down for a day or two. I figured incorrectly. An infection set in and my wounded leg turned burning-hot red and swelled up from my knee to my foot. Then I got to go visit another ER! A shot in my backside and some strong antibiotics were administered. I was on the couch for NINE DAYS!  NINE DAYS! Because of some slippery mud! The infection stayed for two weeks, but it finally relented and I could walk again.

So the moral of the story is: don’t cry over slippery mud…. no…. falls well that bends well… no… as plain as the mud on my face…… my way or the mud way….. five stitches in time saves nine?… (I’ll quit now.)

This is the Dawning of the Age of Real Homeschooling

History will be made this weekend, commencing Sunday morning at 4:30 a.m., when the talented and prepared teacher of our homeschool (me) will embark on a journey of real homeschooling.  The kind of homeschooling I have always dreamed of in my thoughtful homeschooling mom head. Living, breathing homeschooling that doesn’t involve a home at all.

Thinks outdoors.  Think BIG trees.  Think granola bars and foil packet dinners over the campfire.  Think long johns and wool mitts. Think thin nylon tent and freezing temperatures. Think long johns and wool mitts again.

YES!  It’s true.  I found another crazy homeschool mama who has also envisioned outdoor homeschooling for her 11 years of teaching her kids at home.  Thankfully we both have just enough brains now missing to undertake this task …. just the two of us…. with eight kids.  Don’t gasp.  At least 3 of those kids could probably survive in the wilderness unassisted.

And we’ve done bear training!  We’re good.  We all have safety kits in our backpacks including whistles, compasses, knives, waterproof matches, rain ponchos and little reflecting mirrors to signal the search helicopter if need be.   As is my spend-thrift nature, I was not going to spend hard earned dollars on those items which could be salvaged from the current supply of junk in the house.  Yes, my 16-year-old son’s mirror has fuzzy leopard fur on the back… and he’s okay with that.  My 14-year-old son’s mirror is the lid of a make-up compact… and I think he may still be adjusting to that idea as I type.

As mentioned previously, we are studying national parks…. seven parks to be exact… the flora and fauna of each… including botany and geology.  I am the art teacher… the other mama is the science nerd, thankfully!

So as the sun rises Sunday morning, please say a little prayer for us as we drive to Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks in California.  It’s all good.

In My Absence

The lack of blogging is due to a disturbance in the force.  We went camping and didn’t take the computer…. go figure!  Four families made some plans, reserved some camp spots, packed everything including the kitchen sink (but all forgot ketchup!) and headed out to the lake for four days of wilderness survival.  It was hardly wildernessy or survivally, except for the hurricane that hit with 65 mile-an-hour winds on Friday night.  The boy’s tent blew down flat… broken poles and all.  Two of them moved into the boat (with a canvas cover) and two moved into the van.  Let me just add that the wise man builds his house in the van.  By 12:30 a.m. the boat boys were soaked and texted a plea to the RV, “Please help. Wet.”

Our tent was not handling the gales well either.  A nylon strap snapped and rain was coming in on my head….. I was more worried about getting electrocuted from my electric blanket than worried about being wet.  Don’t judge me.  We also were graciously invited into the 5th wheel in the blowing blazes of the storm.

If the storm wasn’t enough, Keeve’s retainer went missing AGAIN.  This is the second camping trip where the retainer was MIA.  Thankfully it was also the second camping trip where the retainer materialized before his father could wring his neck.

AND…. our friend’s golden retriever was profusely sprayed by our neighborhood skunk.  I’ve smelled city kitties before, but not so strong where it burns your throat.  Wow…. brought tears to my eyes as well.

If all those events didn’t add enough excitement…. our car battery died…. deader than a doornail.  So we used the van as a storage unit until my knight in shining work truck went a bought a new battery.  Wow!

Yes, the water level is extremely low in Lake Pleasant at the moment, but it is filling as we speak.  Many a nap transpired by the lake and we ALL enjoyed the lazy time of not being in the hustle and bustle of home life.

Despite the disturbances in the force, a relaxing time was had by all…. most of the time.

Camping Chronicles

Yes, we camped for three days in the dirt.  It was dirty.  But there was a gorgeous creek.  It was freezing… well, not actually freezing with ice chunks and all, but REALLY cold.  There was sunshine the whole time… except for the clouds, which we welcomed with glad hearts… a break from the heat of the day.  This may sound a bit like whining, but we actually had a great time laughing and laughing and laughing. 

Three camp chairs, of antiquated status, were put to rest as the bearer of weight went crashing to the dusty ground.  It was comical all three times… and I was even one of them.  Currently, I’m sitting on the front of my chair for the time being.  A bit of a bruised backside.

A highlight, or lowlight as the case may be, was my son losing his retainer.  He plucked the clear plastic guard from his upper jaw right in front of my eyeballs… he was standing in between the fire pit and the picnic table.  He had a banana in the other hand.  The scene was burned into my brain. But what he did next with the clear plastic retainer remained a mystery.  He didn’t let me know that it was missing until nighttime.  Yes, we lit lanterns and donned flashlights searching for the plastic gem… to no avail.  I dreaded the phone call to let his ortho-paying father in on the news.

The next day, he and I carefully dug through the entire trash bag… removing each and every piece to a new trash bag. It was disgusting.  Really.  Half way through the bag, he told me, “If it is in here, I’m not sure I’m going to want to put it back in my mouth… ever.” We also tore apart the boy’s tent… piece by smelly piece. Nada.

An hour later, I was envisioning his teeth moving back to their previous locations… and knew we would need to get a new retainer Thursday morning right after we arrived home.  I didn’t have the ortho phone number in my cell, so I put on my brave face and called my husband.  He was not impressed with my tale of woe.   As it happened, he was in a different state, waiting for his passengers to fly home… and the ortho number was not in his phone either.  As we made small talk I was slowly wandering around one end of the campground AND I FOUND IT!  Yes, that clear plastic gem was lying in the weeds next to the clothesline.  I screamed and yelled in my joy.  Rick didn’t understand a word I said on the phone.  Eventually we all rejoiced.  The retainer was “washed” (term used completely loosely) and installed back in its rightful place…. however a bit more snug than usual after the 12 hour absence.

See, camping went jes fine.

Damping… Camping in the Rain

 

I made that up myself.  The creativity must stem from four straight days of fresh air stimulation.  A friend called on Tuesday and asked if we wanted to go camping for the rest of the week at a lake that is only 22 miles from our house.   “YES!”  And thus brings you up to date on our week right until last night when we dumped loads and loads of campfire-smelling articles into piles in our garage.  They are still there.

Funny thing was, I checked the weather report for the week on Wednesday morning AFTER I had shopped and packed and hauled and directed.  It reported “Major thunderstorm warning!  Avoid outdoor activity!  Stay indoors!  Unplug electrical appliances!”  Does anyone really do that?

So off we went to the lake.  All seems pretty normal, well, for homeschoolers who spontaneously school at unpredictable locations.  Why not the lake?  I read somewhere that camping is nature’s way of promoting the hotel industry.  HA!  That’s true for my mother, my sister, my sister-in-law and many others, but not for me.  Camping promotes wonder and awe at God’s creation…… wonder in the dark inside a flimsy nylon tent that is your only protection from those strange noises…. and awe that Lewis and Clark did this for a living (minus the nylon tent)!  I truly feel at home in front of the Coleman stove with recently caught and be-headed fish in the cast iron frying pan.  My kids have never caught fish while camping.  So I didn’t leave openings in the meal plan for freshly drawn bass.  After my sons snagged seven scaly specimens the first day, I casually mentioned to my friend that I had never cleaned fish or lit a Coleman propane stove before.  Proudly, I can check those off my bucket list now.

The thunderstorms didn’t materialize… however it did rain three times for 27 seconds each time.  We had a daily wind gust that blew anything and everything not tied down toward the lake.  The clouds made me wish, more than once, that I had a folded copy of the Cloud Formations poster that my husband memorized in flight school.  Cumulonimbus…. uh….. stratus….. cirrus…..

Wildflowers bring joy to my heart.  God made them especially for nature lovers like me.  Pink, yellow, purple, orange… LOVE IT!

This was my first vacation ever where I actually read through every book and magazine I brought and still had a day and a half left over.  I didn’t stress about it…. I just stared at the lake.  The kids stayed busy kayaking, swimming, fishing, riding their bikes, gathering wood, building fires, playing games and laughing.  I never once heard, “Mom, there’s nothing to do!”  What an awesome week!

The Bean Dream Day

For the first time in our almost 23 years of marriage, my husband awoke this morning at 7:30 am and said, “I had a dream last night.”  This may seem usual to you, but not to me.  He never dreams!  Ever!  Or if he does, he cannot remember them at all.  I, on the other hand, have vivid dreams in shining colors almost every night and can retell most of them for days.  See, opposites do attract.

To make a really long story very short, we have talked about a new book idea that I have schemed about for almost six months.  We jotted down ideas at Chipotle one night last Fall…. which brought both of us to tears.  It’s obviously a topic near and dear to our hearts.  Of course it’s top secret, and I can’t share quite yet, so you don’t steal the brilliant idea.  I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.  (Name that movie.) 

Anyway, Rick’s dream was about this awesome marketing idea for the book that I haven’t written yet.  It is now affectionately called the Bean Dream, and goes down in history as the best idea God has ever given him in his sleep.  Well, that he can remember.   I’m sure part of Rick’s button bursting moment was the fact that in the Bible it says YOUNG men will dream dreams and old men will see visions.  This was definitely a dream… not a vision.  (hahahahaha)

Sleepily I listened and then pondered and then finally responded, “That is a good idea!”  Rick emphatically stated, “That is a GREAT idea!”  To which I agreed…. and then couldn’t go back to sleep.  So, the plan unfolded before my fingertips on the laptop in bed as the sun peaked its sleepy head over the mountaintop and spread its golden beams into our room. 

OOOHHHhhhhhh, this is good! 

Tonight I showed Larisa what we are planning and she read the whole schpeal and replied, “This is really good.  Where did you get this from?”  “FROM GOD!” and once again, my own child was totally impressed with her parents.  It was a happy mommy moment.  This is such a rare occasion, that I just had to blog it.  If I remember right, the last time she was impressed by one of her parents was in 1998 when I set up a tent by myself. 

An-ti-ci-pa-a-tion is making you wait.  Sorry.

The RR Camping Saga

 

Photo by T. Robertson

Yes, the men and boys arrived home safely yesterday from two nights in the woods.  This was a highly frustrating trip for those who like comfort and order.  It was a highly amusing time for those who like to laugh in the face of confusion.  And it was a highly entertaining time for ALL the boys.  They’ll remember this trip for the rest of their lives.

The Royal Rangers (fondly known as Ritalin Rangers) from the Arizona District had their Grand Fall Pow Wow with several churches participating from around the state.  Poo Bah Poo Bah.  My dear husband is one of many commanders at our church and arranged for our RR boys to go. The plan was to leave on Friday around noon and head to a Boy Scout’s camp near the Grand Canyon, 3.5 hours northwest of us.  Then Tuesday they get an email that states that the camp in closed for construction and the Pow Wow had been moved to Payson, 1.5 hours east-north-east of us.  OK.  No problem.  Then THURSDAY they got an email that said it was indeed back at the Grand Canyon camp.  FINE.  Off they went on Friday.

 

Photo by T. Robertson

Can I just add here that on Thursday night close to midnight, my dear husband handed me the grocery list for the 26 campers and asked me to put quantities beside the items…. AND put the list in the order of the Walmart aisles.  Well, one look at the list and I started crossing off stuff.  Saturday morning breakfast included eggs, bacon, pancakes, syrup, bagels, cream cheese, coffee, hot chocolate, milk and orange juice.  No names mentioned, but the list was made by two of the cushy-hotel-campers.  I chiseled it down to pancakes, syrup, bacon, coffee and milk.  There.  (And there were no fruits or vegetables on the entire list for five meals…….)  I digress.  And yes, I put it in Walmart order and saved my dear husband at least two ours of wandering time.

SO, they get up to the Grand Canyon camp to find the gates locked… and an Under Construction sign.  Sigh.  They couldn’t just turn around and head to Payson because there was another truck load of boys and dads on their way.  For the next three hours they drove around and around and around looking for a camp ground.  By 9:30 p.m. they pulled off a lonely road into the trees and set up camp.  No bathrooms.  No running water.  My husband was in his Native Canadian Indian element… this is how he spent his summers growing up.  No big deal.  But for the clean-fingernail-crowd, it cramped their camping style.

They returned with smiles on their dirty, unshaven faces with every sleeping bag, foamy mattress and pillow WET!  Lovely.  I’m SOOOOOOOOOOOO glad it was a father-son trip.  :o)