Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah

We bought a pop-up camper on Thursday, my last day of work was Friday, my DH left Saturday for his annual golf trip (not even close to as elitist as it sounds - I believe the goal is to find the cheapest round of 18 in the tri-state area), and I am about to drive My Dear Son to summer camp. It is pretty much the start of moving our home to the road.  For the next 4 days, all we will be doing is:

• Eating everything we can in our stationary house (we are already down to the last in the fridge) 
• Cleaning up so that when we come back to Suburbia it feels like paradise (as if a real shower won't be enough)
• Packing so we don't end up buying stuff on the road that we already own (crushes my frugal heart)
• Planning the last details of the month long camping trip

All Summer Long

Our inviting new storm door

So last spring I was DYING to replace our storm doors.  We had the UGLIEST storm doors in Suburbia.  They were metal with lots and lots of glass slats, circa 1965 (see YIKES picture below).  They were heavy and sharp and a pain to clean.  They slammed shut clipping ankles in their wake.  They offered very little in the way of extra insulation and worst of all, they didn't help people know that we were open and ready to play.

Growing up we had a rule; it wasn't written or said, but when the front door was open, neighborhood kids would stop by because they knew we could play.  Sometimes kids would stop by when it was shut too, but were mostly told that we were still doing chores or busy, but when the front door was open, we knew freedom was imminent.

This was in a different time, a time when we only had window A/C units and they were only turned on in certain rooms and only on the hottest of days.  An era when video games were so new that barely anyone had them and nobody I knew had cable.  As kids we played "Scatter" or "Kick-ball" outside from the moment the door opened until well after the sun had gone down with "Ghost in the Graveyard" through every yard on the block because no one had fences and almost everyone had children or remembered what having children was like (and there was no such thing as a professionally landscaped yard).  And honestly, I remember those kids names but they were only friends by proximity; I kept in touch with very few after high school and almost none after college.  It wasn't necessarily the people themselves but the atmosphere of Summer in Suburbia.  We played through swarms of mosquitoes without my mom spraying us with bug repellent or sun screen or handing us bottles of water—we just moved to the shade and drank out of the hose when we needed it and ran around until we heard my dad's whistle; at which point we sprinted home, knowing that if we didn't, our "curfew" would be moved up an hour the next night.  When we got in, we would wash our feet in the tub, be covered in calamine lotion, and sent to bed. 

ROAD TRIP!

Some people go for years without getting away, not us; we've taken some pretty epic trips, even with little babies/kids.  All-inclusive resorts, Disney, Jamaica, DC, NOLA, Vegas, Canada, on planes, trains, automobiles, I could go on and on.  We all love to travel and I am unabashedly awesome at finding the best deals, but these past 2 vacations needed to be REALLY good deals.  Topic 1 is the Road Trip.  I'm here to tell you that it is way easier (and cheaper) than it seems.  I've decided to use the elementary school writing style for this blog.

The "Joy" of Motherhood

I had all sorts of grand ideas on what would happen (and wouldn't happen) when I became a Mother.  I would have a natural birth.  I would go for stroller walks everyday to get fresh air and exercise.  I would keep plastic crap to a minimum.  My kids wouldn't eat in the car or eat McDonalds at all.  I would speak patiently and calmly to my disobedient children.  My house would be clean and I would not have toys thrown around like it was some sort of booby trap.  I would never make more than one meal and the whole family would eat it (and I would never finish the food on their plate). My kids would blissfully fall asleep in corners so that my husband and I could retain our social life.  The list goes on and on.  I wasn't saying it to be judgmental of other Mothers, I just knew the kind of Mother that I was going to be (you can feel free to roll your eyes back and laugh.  My Dear Aunt would whenever I would tell her these things). 

he doesn't deal well with change

And after a crazy bed-rest pregnancy, scary labor, and then emergency c-section, my son was born.  He was the feistiest baby ever met.  Even my Grandmother (his GG), who had 4 of her own children, 15 grandchildren, and worked in the nursery at church, said she had never met a baby (before or since) she couldn't console, until my son.  At the hospital, my best friend could tell what room they moved me to because we had the loudest baby in the whole place.  I couldn't claim colic, he was just bad tempered.  I literally wept when they told me that I had to go home from the hospital after 4 days.  He single-handedly taught me about the kind of mother I would be, and he did it in record time.  Now, with 11 years of hind-sight, here is the advice I would have given myself from the beginning, they are not in order of importance:

My Crazy Tooth Princess

My Dear Sweet Daughter has FINALLY lost some baby teeth only to have her front adult tooth come in at a 90 degree angle.  I'm not exaggerating.  I've attached photographic evidence in case you don't believe me.  Now my DD has had a lot to contend with in these last couple of weeks:  She found out she desperately needs glasses, she is still short, and now this crazy tooth.  Frankly, I was a little worried about her psyche; teeth especially are something our society seems overly concerned with.  I remember someone (I don't remember who; I hope it wasn't me!) told my sister when she was a little kid that she had too big of a smile; my sister proceeded to spend the next couple of years with this really weak pathetic smile in a conscious effort to "not smile too big."  My dear daughter has a lot of my sister's love for sparkles, sprinkles, big parties (and the inability to rub two nickles together) so I was a little worried.  What if my smiley and happy daughter suddenly becomes self-conscience?  Is this the time?