I wish this post could be about of all the things you can do to make camping go right.
But if you know anything about camping or kids, you’ll know that is just wishful thinking.
Recently, I was bra shopping with Two. As we walked up to the display, she exclaimed, “Mom, shopping for bras is so embarrassing!”
“Why?” I asked. “Half the world is made up of women and girls. They all have breasts or will grow breasts as they get bigger. How is that embarrassing?”
Her response was something along the lines of, “Well, when you put it like that…”
I remember being a preteen and teen and how Embarrassing so many things felt. It felt Embarrassing whenever I thought I said or did or wore the wrong thing. It felt Embarrassing just to exist in the same space as my parents, perhaps because I was more aware of my self-absorption when they were around.
In the photo at the top, I put some of the books I’ve been using as a jumping off point for our homeschool sex ed. They really are just a launchpad. I’ve actually used the books I’m reading for my own “continuing ed” when the books I have are lacking when it comes to anatomical accuracy.
Stan with Four and Five, in February 2015. Photo Credit Lindsay Crandall.
When I was growing up, we had an ugly brown hassock in our living room. Many of my happiest childhood memories involve that hassock. I remember the sensation of being breathlessly underneath it while another sibling balanced on top, or attempting to balance on it while we rolled it on its side, using it as a drum, leaning on a book against it while coloring or drawing, pretending it was a steep cliff for our toys, throwing it at one another, or sitting on it on top of the sofa cushions like royalty.
As an adult, I wanted a hassock for my own house because A. We need all the seating we can get in our modestly-sized living room and B. I want my own kids to have fun memories of playing with a hassock.
I picked out a lovely, colorful one on Overstock several years ago, and realized immediately that it broke the rule that says that with so many kids in the house, One Cannot Have Nice Things. As I waited for it to arrive in the mail, I wondered how in the world I could protect it from destruction.
For years after I started homeschooling, I would start the summer with grand plans for activities, workbooks, and reading assignments to make sure my kids didn’t go brain dead over the vacation.
We did a page here and there, but the school year would start again and I’d find I hadn’t done much of anything I’d hoped to do.
Several years ago, I gave myself permission to stop making plans for summer learning. The kids needed a break, but more truthfully, I was the one who needed a break from having to oversee all the learning.
This summer has been tough again. I’m finding myself fighting guilt about not doing more with the kids. I’m not reading to them. The Littles can’t read to themselves. No one is doing math review. The Bigs aren’t reading the leftover reading books we didn’t get to from the school year.
I’m still trying to figure out how to be good at being married. As it turns out, that process is a lot less straight forward than I would like.
The harder I try to keep it together on the outside, I have a patch of eczema that’s like, “LALALA YOU CAN’T PRETEND YOU AREN’T STRESSED WHEN I’M HERE!!! And the more you pretend it’s ok when it’s not, the bigger I get!”
Today, I met the Chaplain at our riverside trail with the Littles after dropping Two and Three off at the dance studio. It was a long day with the kids. I felt like I had tried really hard all day and had still failed.
Starting way back at 11 a.m., I had made dinner for lunch since we would be out at dinner time. I’d fed the kids sandwiches before leaving for the evening. I’d brought water bottles and snacks so no one would be hungry. I started getting ready to leave the house long before we had to go so that we could actually leave on time.
The whole day, I had worked up to this moment, at the trail. All the kids had shoes on. We were ready. But I hadn’t had a chance to pee before leaving our house and there were no bathrooms at the trail.
