Turning Tables

I have written many times about our annual Seaside trip, I wrote about family camp, I even wrote about our trip to Spokane. What do all of these have in common?  They were trips I took the boys on and left Brandon home alone.  If you know me, then you also may have heard my slightly snide comments regarding how Brandon felt about these trips. This is the part of the blog where you can roll your eyes and decide I am a terrible person, it's okay.  You see, every time I left, Brandon would be sad. From the first trip when Jack was 8 weeks old, to family camp this summer, when Jack was now 8 years old, he hates when we leave.  I used to say to him, and probably my friends, MOST guys are happy when their wives leave and take all the kids with them.  I didn't understand why he had such a hard time with it.

Brandon has slowly begun to come along with us on our trips.  Seaside, is no longer a sister's weekend, more like a Sister-Wives weekend.  I did ask Brandon to come when Finn was born because I did not feel that I could keep all 3 boys safe at the ocean for the weekend. Considering I lost Jack one year, that was probably a very wise parenting decision.  Family Camp is now truly "family camp" as Brandon joins us for the weekend (that is another blog post).  There are no trips that I now take with just the boys, and part of me is sad for that.  Slight tangent: being a mom of 3 boys, I feel a strong need to do things with just the boys and myself.  Camping in the woods with just mom? I think that is a pretty cool adventure and a memory the boys will always have with them.  

So, when Brandon told me he wanted to take the boys camping, my first reaction was: no way.  Selfishly, I didn't want hm to have his own special trip when I didn't get to have one.  Also, I have a terrible fear of being home alone. Immature, probably, but still as soon it is dark, I am locked in the bathroom crying.  I blame it on the movie, Are You In the House Alone? Don't watch a scary movie with older boy cousins around. They will scare the bejezus out of you and forever cause you to be in therapy.

I handled the weekend away as I handle most things that scare me. I pretend it's not happening. Even up to the minute they were leaving, I was cleaning the bathrooms and vacuuming. Packing, nope. Food shopping, not my job. I had no idea what clothes they were taking, what they were going to eat, or how Brandon planned to handle the weekend.  Even avoiding the issue, 4:00 still came, and the boys all climbed into the car.  

And that is when I started to cry. I tried to not cry in front of the boys, but it took Brandon a heck of time to finally get in the car to leave. By that time Jack said, "Mom, you have tears in your eyes." and then "Mom, I do too".  I give them the best smile I could, made a funny joke about having to take care of the dogs, and went inside.  And cried some more.  

Because now I know why Brandon hates it.  I did enjoy having time to myself at home, but I missed the boys so much.  I hated going to bed alone at night and having no one there to keep me warm. (Not to be mistaken with how much I love my weekend away, that is something I still love). But being home, without my family, was sad.

When I stopped crying, I went upstairs to get the coffee Brandon had made for me, and saw this:

And then I smiled.

Full Disclosure: I did not stay home alone, because I am that much of a wuss, my 16 year old niece stayed with me to keep me safe.

Another First

This week marked Finn's last first day of preschool. Next year he may or may not go to kindergarten, that has yet to be decided, but this will be our last year at this school.  Jack started here when he was 2 years old, for the past 6 years I have driven down the same road, walked up the same stairs to drop off one and sometimes even two boys.  This was my first step away from all kids all the time.  These teachers were the first to know that a little Finn was on his way. They were the ones to let me know that my Jack was more special then I even knew. This is where I made some of my best mom friends. Where I finally accepted that I was a stay-at-home mom and joined an organized mom's group.  This place has been my life for the last 6 years.

This summer we spent quite a bit of time looking at preschools closer to home, making pros and cons lists, trying to convince Finn he would love to go to a new school.  In the end, we chose to stay where we were. Long drive, short hours and all. This is where we felt we needed to be.  And when Finn came down the stairs after his first day of school and whispered into my ear, "I loved it". I knew we made the right choice.  This little boy gets one more year, to be in the big Pre-K, just like his brothers, to be with his very best friend, and to be mine for just a little while longer.

First Day

The first day of school has come and gone. In some ways I am still in denial that summer is over, although our current weather is definitely fall/winter like.  This is the first year we are not starting a new school. We are finally in the 'returning' family group, and I couldn't be happier. It was so nice to go in and see familiar faces, say hi, and even give hugs. Okay, that last part wasn't my favorite but I persevered and gave several rather awkward hugs.  

The day to find out our teachers arrived and I think I was more nervous then the boys. I knew in my mind who would be perfect teachers for the boys and I hoped the higher ups at the school had realized that also.  Micah got Jack's teacher from last year, who I love, and knows all about my terrible crying at parent-teacher conferences behavior, so that is a plus.  Jack got the teacher I was 100% convinced we would not get.  Seriously, when Brandon saw Jack's name outside the room he looked at me and said, "this is it".  Wait, what?!  It took me a second and I was still a little in shock as we walked into Jack's room, but by the 3rd day of school, I am convinced this was the best choice for Jack.  He was up before 7AM on Thursday ready for school because he had such a good first day.  Now, that didn't happen today, but that's okay. He was still dressed and in the car on time.

The actual first day of school was a blur. I couldn't believe how fast the time went. I had a long list of things to do. Make a special dinner of the boys choosing, CHECK. Burn dinner while wasting time on FaceBook, check.  Make healthy chocolate chip cookies, CHECK. Burn the granola I had to make to add to the cookies, check. Taste cookies and immediately spit them out, CHECK.  Rush to get boys so I would be in the correct carpool lane of them to find me, CHECK.  Pick up happy boys who loved their first days, CHECK, CHECK, CHECK.

The boys had great first days, they loved seeing friends, and getting to know their new teachers. Finn and I are settling into life just the 2 of us again.  Which means watching TV and reading blogs, and buying treats at Starbucks.

All in all the transition to back to school went well. Up next, Finn returns to preschool!

Last Full Day of Summer

School does not start until next Wednesday but yesterday was the last day where we woke up with no agenda. I had purposefully left this week as empty as possible to try to soak up some last minute time with my boys. What I failed to realize is that we are all pretty ready for school to start. Now, I'm not looking forward to getting up early, making lunches, having homework, and what not, but I am ready for the routine and predictability of school. And, I believe, the boys are ready to be with someone that is not me.  Although Jack did say today he wished summer was 10 more weeks, I truly believe they are as ready as I am.  

Even so, I was determined to make this last day count. I asked the boys for ideas on what they wanted to do on this last day. Micah offered up open swim at the local pool. Jack first said stay home all day, which was not a huge shock, but then changed it to the zoo. Finn just echoed whatever his bothers said.  Going into Thursday I was debating swim or zoo, zoo or swim. Really, both are my least favorite activities, but it wasn't about me (or so I kept telling myself).

Unfortunately we woke to rain on Thursday. At first it was a little rain, and I thought we could probably do the zoo but then it said thundershowers/lightning were predicted later. So, no swim or zoo for us.  Instead, and I know you are all dying to know, we went BOWLING.  The one bowling alley near our house was recently torn down so it was pretty fun to surprise the boys by telling them we were going bowling. They were pretty sure I was crazy.  But we went, we bowled, and we had a really good time.

Showing our muscles

Agony waiting to see if any pins would be knocked down

Finn has the longest ball roll ever, sometimes it didn't even make it

And bowling makes us hungry

Also, I won. But I guess I shouldn't gloat since my competitors were under the age of 10.

It's That Time of Year...

For Family Camp!  Last year was the first year I took the boys to family camp. In the rational part of my mind I know it wasn't all sunshine and roses. I know I cried at least once, was sweaty hot, thought about begging Brandon to come up, and probably vowed to never do it again. But the emotional part of my mind only remembers how much fun the boys and I had.  Leading up this week, we were talking about camp, what we were going to do, how much fun we would have, etc.  But a couple of things happened that made this week much more challenging.

First, my dear niece suffered a sudden and very sad loss as her grandfather died in a hiking accident on Monday. We were all set to go camping with her on Wednesday, we had just been making plans and finalizing food, when we heard the news.  While, my niece did come out to see us, we missed having her be with us.

Second, it rained. Not in a, oh look it's raining a bit, but rather, OH MY GOD IT'S RAINING. I dug my first trench as I worked to keep our tent from flooding.  That was also the day of the memorial service. So not only was it raining, we also left camp for most of the day.  When we came back Brandon was with us, but we were all wet, tired, and emotionally drained.

It may not look impressive, but it was still a trench that I dug, in the rain, wearing my danskos.

Our reward for having to leave camp. I will confess we went not once but twice that day.

But I love family camp. I really do. I loved going as a kid, I have fond memories (and a few hard ones) of working there when I was in high school, living there for a summer before finally saying good-bye when I went off to college. And I love watching my boys take off on their bikes and head off to their classes.

Finn mastered riding his bike. Now I have three pro-bike riders in the family.

A rare moment of quiet time.

One of our favorite things to do on camping trips: car repairs!

In the end, it wasn't the week we had planned, but it was still a good week. The boys are singing camp songs all day (which is both good and bad). They have good memories of camping with grandma and Aunt Lisa, who is the most prepared person they know (according to Micah), and meeting new and old friends.

Miss Renna Jean, next year you will be 2 and twice the force to be reckoned with.

Of course we already signed up for next year.  Now on to recruit a few more friends to join us!

Why We Moved

There are many things I like about our new house and location but there are some things that still make me sad. I miss walking to get coffee, and walking to the park. I miss being close to our church and my friends. I miss my kitchen.

But then today I am reminded of why we moved. Even before breakfast I had three boys begging to go for a bike ride. They willingly got dressed, put on shoes and helmets all before I found my coffee.  And then they were off.

We live at the end of a dead end road with very few cars.  The boys love it. They ride up and down the road, having races, playing games, and of course trying to not have another bike accident.

All the while I sat there, drinking my coffee and eating breakfast.  It was a perfect way to start the day.

His Dream, My Nightmare

For years Brandon and I have vacationed in the same small mountain town. We first went there for a bike race and decided to go back for a week long vacation. What would we do in this town?  It was actually the perfect place for us; Brandon could bike ride, I could read, we could go on hikes together. And it had a couple of yummy restaurants. All in all we were always so happy to be here.  We used to take hikes before we had kids and talk about the hypothetical kids we might have one day.  Then we brought our boys to this town and they also fell in love.

Every time we make the drive over the mountain pass, Brandon would mention how he would love to ride his bike over the mountains. I would always reply with, "when the boys are 18".  This year we celebrate 15 years of wedded bliss and decided it was time to head back over, this time without kids. It had been 5 years since we last came to visit without the boys.  And, this time, I told Brandon he could ride his bike.

The days leading up the trip, I have to admit I had a hard time sleeping. I wouldn't lie awake picturing terrible things happening to Brandon, but I would wake up each night with my mind racing.  I have a deep fear of heights, plus watching cars race down the mountain and picturing Brandon on his little bike, was kind of nerve-racking.  But the day finally arrived. And with it rain. Lots of rain.

Brandon did say if it was raining when we hit the starting point, he would not ride.  Part of me was hopeful it would rain. The rest of me just wanted this over with.  My job was to drive support. To meet Brandon at prearranged stopping points with extra water and snacks.  He thought it would take 4-5 hours. I could just imagine how thrilling my drive was going to be. Drive, stop, wait, drive, stop, wait, and so on.

Brandon gave me vague descriptions of where to stop. All I heard was, not on the left side of the road, not at overlooks, and not more then 10-15 miles.  Seemed easy enough. Except I missed the first meeting place. I was looking for a campground sign, but I needed to be looking for a resort sign. Minor details but it meant I drove an extra 20 miles before I finally realized I had indeed gone to far.  No cell service meant I couldn't just park and text Brandon where I was. I drove back to what I thought was a prominent parking place and pulled off. I figured he couldn't miss a bright red car with an equally bright orange bike on top.  And he didn't. But he was a little worried when he finally rode up.  Missing the first rendezvous point meant Brandon was envisioning me attacked by some crazy mountain man.  Nope, just lost.

From then on I stopped every 5 miles in an easy to see pull out. And then I waited. Once I took a nap, but mostly I read. And ate Pringles and drank Dr. Pepper. Because it was kind of lonely just sitting in the car waiting to see Brandon appear, only to drive off again.

But 4 hours later I waited for Brandon with the camera rolling. And there he was, hot, sweaty, and tired, but he did it.  60 miles, 7, 680 feet elevation gain later, and he was done. Dream come true for Brandon. And my nightmare of worry and terror was over.

At dinner that night Brandon mentioned taking our boys on the ride one day.  Then he paused and said,  "Maybe not, it was kind of intense."

Happy Anniversary, Babe.