A Midsummer Night's Dream.

While summer is quickly soaring by and all the regrets of things left undone are settling in, there is, at least one thing that we’ve accomplished this year. A summer tradition arching way back into time to the summers of my youth that Lily and Canyon have whole-heartedly embraced: sleeping outside on the trampoline. It only took one night a few weeks ago to get them hooked and we haven’t looked back, they have slept out there nearly every night since. I’ve been more than a little impressed as we’ve had a coldish summer so far and the fog bank reaches our house most nights which means that it’s cold. It hasn’t stopped them and I keep explaining that it’ll be even better when we actually have a warm night. After the first few nights of sleeping out there, Canyon promptly told me:

“Mom, I think the big dipper is going to stay. I’ve been watching it for the past few nights and it hasn’t even moved. It’s probably going to stay at our house for a while.”

Yes. The big dipper isn’t going anywhere. So they trudge out there every night with arms loaded with sleeping bags, pillows, flashlights and books. We go out with them and watch the meteor showers and sometimes even cheat while naming the planets and stars with my new iphone ap: My Universe. How very unromantic, I know.

So it was one of these nights, out there, while laying under the stars that I told them about Shakespeare. We just happen to live backed-up to a vineyard and out past our eucalyptus tree across the acres of tidy green rows of grapes is the white vineyard ‘castle house’ where fairyland exists. We have often been enraptured with the vineyard. We sometimes walk there in the evenings and ‘trespass’ by the green and manicured tasting lawns and marvel at the restored 100-year-old Victorian “castle house.” But this year, this year—fairyland is actually there—and we didn’t even have to imagine it. Oberon, Titania, Puck and others have been frequenting the vineyard—every weekend from 7:30-10:00 for an excessive fee. While we didn’t have it in us (or in our pockets) to actually attend this backyard Shakespeare festival—we would lay on the trampoline and listen to the applause and laughter of the obviously delighted audience. I explained who Shakespeare was to the kids and promised them that next year I would take them. But somehow, as we lay there at 10:30 all snuggled up in sleeping bags and exclaiming at meteors—and we heard the cheering for the final curtain call, I realized that we’re not quite ready—eyelids already drooping and something just as magical, if that’s even possible, as Shakespeare’s play: a real midsummer night’s dream.

Alice's Birthday: or 'Help me Obi-Wan Kenobi, you're my only hope.'

Here's the breakdown of Alice's birthday. I think the pictures tell it all.

Yay! Alice is four now.
By the way, in case you couldn't tell--the soft Princess Leia doll was a HUGE hit.

Also, notice how very dirty and tired all of those little campers are.

Lake Tahoe

There’s something magical about…

sleeping all together in a cozy little tent-trailer—
the stars seeming so much closer and brighter—you can almost touch them
swimming at seven in the morning in crisp (that means cold), very clear, and glassy water—underneath rainbow colored hot-air balloons
listening to bears all night long—
listening to teenagers all night long—I prefer the bears.
opening your favorite present on your fourth birthday—an enchanting and painstakingly detailed (thanks Jill) Princess Leia doll—
having cupcakes and cobbler and watermelon and and dutch oven potatoes and Fred Flinstone steaks from your steer (seriously…they were HUGE)
spending all day in the sunshine, burning feet on hot golden sand, cooling off in the lake, climbing the pier pole, jumping in, kayaking and having as Canyon said after spending the day in the kayak, “the best day of my life.”
very dirty feet and not caring much about it—
homemade ice-cream with Ranger Pat—
lots of bug-bites and sunburns—
and some night swimming with a bunch of middle-aged—but extremely giggly girls—
catching, boiling, and eating crawdads with Uncle Jeremy—like a little piece of lobster heaven right in our camp
holding baby Jed and visiting with Aunt Laura and Uncle Bill who were very accommodating personal shoppers and who happily provided cupcakes to a four year old who didn’t believe that cobbler counted as a ‘Birthday’
like I said…magical.

4th of July.

July 7, 2009

Our 4th of July was packed with adventure. Enough adventure to last us a whole week. It began with Lily & Canyon’s first swim meet. They have been on the swim team this summer and have been practicing really hard. We were finally around for a swim meet and so were able to go. Lily was great and really enjoyed it as did Canyon. It was a little stressful for me, though, making sure that they were in the right places at the right time. We had a couple of close calls, but we made it to the starting block for every event. I am really impressed with how they run these summer leagues here. Growing up, our swim meets seemed so much more serious. In fact, I remember that in my first swim meet I got disqualified for breaking my stroke (on breaststroke) as I was pulling off my goggles that had come of during my start. Not the best way for a little kid to get started. In the meets here, there is practically no disqualification under the age of 10 and even then, only if it’s pretty obvious. Therefore, the meet was really fun to watch as the little kids pretty much did whatever they could to get across the pool. Canyon even had one of the older girls in the lane with him. He didn’t need her to be in there for safety, but was nervous…so she just swam along beside him offering encouragement. The key to these meets is for everyone to have fun and they give ribbons to everyone in every event. It was great! Canyon was so excited to get his ribbons the next day. I’ve been so proud of the kids, they have done so well with swimming. They haven’t complained about the hour-long practices everyday and they have truly enjoyed it. Plus, the bonus is that they are such better swimmers now.

Lily, getting ready to start the 50 free.



Canyon and his emotional crutch and biggest crush of his life so far: Alexa.
(I just wish she could go to school with him)

Saturday night we had our annual 4th of July party. We had a BBQ and played volleyball until it got dark. The food was amazing and I had asked people to bring dessert and we were about to delve into the amazing things people brought when our neighbors brought over three Cold Stone ice-cream cakes. Yes, three. We ate so much, I think everyone was going to burst. The kids played and played outside and were verifiably (is that a word?) dirty by the end of the night. Volleyball was, as usual, a blast and we played until we couldn’t see the ball anymore and then afterwords we all bundled up in the back of the barn to watch the fireworks (somehow it’s always cold on the 4th of July). There was no end to Jane’s exclamations of “Wow!” She especially appreciated the fireworks that were pink or purple. There’s something about the 4th of July that’s so great. I think part of it is that it’s the only major holiday that takes place in the summer and there’s just something magical about summer and summer traditions.

We are now readying to embark on our next summer tradition: camping at Tahoe—this is our absolute favorite and I think that my kids look forward to this even more than they look forward to Christmas.

Summer

Our first family photo in, like, forever.

Me, Lily, Alice and Papa in the park.

I’m embarrassed about the amount of time that has gone by on this blog…unattended, lonely, deserted, abandoned while I have been having the time of my life! After the insane whirlwind of the last week of school we headed out on a week long vacation across (as Lily so astutely pointed out) five states in 48 hours. Not a small feat for those of us fortunate enough to live in the west. I’ve never really spent any time in the east, so I shouldn’t judge it—but I definitely think I’m a western girl and I love, love those wide open desert skies, rugged mountain peaks and coldness (yes, cold—I know we don’t have the balmy Atlantic) of the wild Pacific. We drove across California, through Nevada (with its big skies and green desert), to Utah to stop one night and then through a corner of Idaho with its beautiful farm houses and lilacs everywhere! to our destination—Wyoming. We stayed in Jackson Hole with my parents, Sadie and the Ceej and we had a fantastic time. Dustin had never been to Jackson Hole and fell in love with it. He has been trying to figure out how we can just drop everything and move there (I’m never going to leave California though, he’ll have to go without me). We went to Grand Teton National Park and oohed and aahed our way through the green valleys nestled oh-so-close to those sudden peaks. There were wildflowers everywhere, animals everywhere, and the kids were as happy to be there as we were. We went on some hikes and were so happy to see that Alice was able to maintain her hiking enthusiasm even after her virgin hike in Yosemite. She was amazing and hiked some serious three mile terrain without even pausing for breath as she talked and talked and talked (mostly about the pale blue butterflies that were everywhere). Canyon and Lily are coming into their own and hiked ahead with Papa; too serious of hikers to stay with Alice and I. Jane was content to ride in the pack on Dustin’s back and even got a few naps in.

We also took a ferry across Jenny Lake and did some more hiking the next day. The mud was a bit hazardous, but when Alice finally gave up on trying to keep her shoes clean…we were ok. We decided that we have to go back, but next time we’re camping. Oh, and we got to see a moose. Yes, a moose, up close—a few feet away. Jane wasn’t all that impressed. She wondered why everyone was so excited about a horse.

Dustin & Alice on Jenny Lake



The Moose

We went back to Logan and had a great time. We went to Summerfest, listened to some great music, were obsessed with baby CJ, and pulled off a great Retirement party for papa which included playing with the Scott girls who had so dutifully hidden their arrival for a whole day without seeing Papa. We had a wonderful time and after a long 12 hour drive home and we finally pulled in the driveway, Jane shrieked (as if she suddenly realized we had been driving all day) that she wanted to go back to Nana and Papa’s house. Canyon was still sullen the next day because he was sorry to be gone. We could’ve stayed another week—but are happy to be home and in the swing of swim team and summer library visits. Aaaah, summer…I love it!

The trooper: Alice

Lilies and Strawberries.

The strawberries.

It’s a good thing that Lily’s birthday is in May because I don’t thing there’s one thing that this girl loves more than strawberries—and so we always manage to have some on her cake. She declared that this year’s cake is her ‘favorite’ and I was happy—with the help of the strawberry field down the street—to oblige. She is turning into such an amazing little helper and the wit that accompanies her voracious reading habit is quite sassy. She was pleased with her birthday ‘swag,’ which included a new watch, books (of course), and a Stanford hoodie (thanks to Erika and Kim—my mom team who pulled off a last minute Stanford Bookstore run for me). I can’t believe that in a year she’ll be in double digits—it seems like she was, only just yesterday, the continually nursing baby (happy for me, though, because while she nursed—I read Lord of the Rings). How fast the time has gone and those quiet days of one baby are gone and our life is a whirlwind of adventure.

Happy Birthday Lily.

I love this picture of Lily laughing at her little sisters as they sing, sing, sing.
Jane was certain that it was her birthday.

Finding Myself.

One of the hardest things about becoming a mother is losing a part of you that you’ll never be again. After Lily was born, it wasn’t the all-night feedings, the nursing difficulties, the sleep deprivation or the constant worry that shocked me. What shocked me was the inability to be what I had, up until then, always been. I had to finally resolve to become a different sort of person, a version of the old me, true—but at the same time—different. As I slowly embraced the new me of motherhood, I also grieved for the old me and while this process gets easier it never really goes away. Now that I’m officially a mother (I suppose that having four kids does that to you), I have almost forgotten what that old me is all about. Almost everything that I do now, involves my kids in some form or another and I complacently allow my old habits and sensibilities to fade slowly away. Sometimes I worry that when my kids are gone, will I be interesting? Can I be defined by something other than Lily, Canyon, Alice or Jane’s mom? I found out this past week that yes, I can.

I found myself again.

Born to schoolteachers, my siblings and I had the fortunate opportunity to ‘grow up’ at summer scout camps. We spent our summers swimming, sailing, boating, tying knots, hiking, and basking in creative outdoor time that began and ended with the rising and setting of the sun. We were dirty, happy, sunburned, and tired. We fell asleep every night, exhausted, as our mother read ‘Little House on the Prairie.’ And we believed in Laura’s life on the prairie…because we were living it. We grew up to become scouters and counselors and we began to teach our unique skills to twelve-year-old boys who were as eager to learn as we were to teach. We learned about hard work, service, and we had a great time. We saw the sunrise over the lake every morning and every night we pondered the milky moonpath on the still water and seemed so close to the stars that we could almost hear their conversations. I loved it. It defined who I am. It gave me confidence and self-awareness.

I was asked, this year, to be on staff at BSA’s National Camp School to train camp Aquatic’s Directors. It is something that I did a few times before I was married and even early in my marriage, but not something that I thought I would go back to. With Dustin’s encouragement I decided to go and after I gathered up a village to help with the kids—I packed my bags and went to Camp Tracy in Salt Lake’s Millcreek Canyon for eight days. I have never been away from my kids for that long and was nervous and emotional to leave. I went, I taught, I rowed, I canoed, I had fun and developed relationships and, guess what, I wasn’t Lily or Canyon or Alice or Jane’s mom—I wasn’t even Marty’s sister (Marty was also there…which is another delightful aspect to this story)—I was me. I had a wonderful time. I was exhausted, yet fulfilled. I came home to a family who missed me and appreciated me. Dustin did a great job with the kids all week. I know that it had to take a great deal of patience and sacrifice for him to work and be solely responsible for the kids after hours.

This was a great ‘break’ for me—an opportunity for me to realize that I can hang on to the old me without feeling guilty. You might read this and say ‘duh.’ But this past week was truly revealing to me and I hope that this revelation will help me to be a better mother and a better wife…because there’s a little bit of the old me still in there and, when it’s time, she’s coming back out.