They can take their well-meaning concern elsewhere

You might remember that I live next to a small-ish man-made lake.  My backyard is small and boring for a 3-year old boy, so he has taught himself (and his sisters quickly learned from his example) how to scale this fence.  The lake is .5 miles long and we live about in the middle, so he'd have to run for a quarter mile in either direction before he hit a street.  They have those exercise stations along the way that hardly anyone besides little kids use (monkey bars, balance beams, pedestals for doing lunges, etc) that he likes to screw around on.  Plus, there is the timeless pastime of throwing stuff in the lake.

I cannot scale the fence, so I sit in the backyard and watch him run around.  He occasionally gets farther away than I can see, but he always comes back.

This thing we do FREAKS OUT all the walkers and fishers.  I get that they are concerned and ask him where his parents are, but I wave and say "I'm right here!" and they still look like they are deciding whether or not to call CPS.  I don't doubt they would... remember our old dog Daisy and how they called the police on us because she spent too much time in the backyard where she had fresh water and shade?  And also it was spring so it was 70 degrees outside?  And also she's a dog?

Mostly they are concerned that he's going to fall in the lake and I'm behind the fence and wouldn't be able to grab him.  We've lived next to this lake his entire life and he's never once fallen in.  Also, it's only a few feet deep.  Also, he could grab onto the side and hang out until I could get to him... or just climb out.

Aside from the need to get out of the house and run around, I've always sort of felt like I'm doing Ethan good by letting him be over there by himself or with his sisters.  Like he's learning independence and exploring.

Yesterday, I read a very interesting article that TOTALLY PROVED ME RIGHT.

It's called "The Overprotected Kid" in The Atlantic.  (HT Bridget).  It talks about how kids these days are so supervised that they don't experiment with risk or being on their own or trying things and failing that they overdo it with the risks and end up addicted to drugs, don't know how to be on their own and get depressed, and freak out when they fail.  My favorite part was the following:

Sandseter began observing and interviewing children on playgrounds in Norway. In 2011, she published her results in a paper called “Children’s Risky Play From an Evolutionary Perspective: The Anti-Phobic Effects of Thrilling Experiences.” Children, she concluded, have a sensory need to taste danger and excitement; this doesn’t mean that what they do has to actually be dangerous, only that they feel they are taking a great risk. That scares them, but then they overcome the fear. In the paper, Sandseter identifies six kinds of risky play: (1) Exploring heights, or getting the “bird’s perspective,” as she calls it—“high enough to evoke the sensation of fear.” (2) Handling dangerous tools—using sharp scissors or knives, or heavy hammers that at first seem unmanageable but that kids learn to master. (3) Being near dangerous elements—playing near vast bodies of water, or near a fire, so kids are aware that there is danger nearby. (4) Rough-and-tumble play—wrestling, play-fighting—so kids learn to negotiate aggression and cooperation. (5) Speed—cycling or skiing at a pace that feels too fast. (6) Exploring on one’s own.

This last one Sandseter describes as “the most important for the children.” She told me, “When they are left alone and can take full responsibility for their actions, and the consequences of their decisions, it’s a thrilling experience.”

Letting Ethan play on his own outside the fence hits numbers 1 (sometimes he sits on top of the fence, which is about 7 feet tall), 3, and 6.

So while I'm glad that these people are concerned about my child's safety, I got this.

GoPro fail

My friend John makes promotional videos.  He'll really good (see representative sample here).  He uses a GoPro camera mounted to a little helicopter to get the overhead shots.

Looks real nice, right?

My children have destroyed our small point and shoot.  Like, the casing fell off but it still worked, and then the shutter was stuck open, but it still kinda worked.  And then it wouldn't turn off, but if you took out the battery when you weren't using it, it still kinda worked.

Tyler and I decided to hike Mt. Wrightson a few weekends back, and as I was afraid I'd drop our nice camera off the side of the mountain, plus it's heavy, we decided to borrow John's GoPro.

I'm not sure what went wrong, but these are some of the better shots.

This is a herd of wild turkeys, obviously.

 Because it takes like 6 hours to do the hike, it was either take the baby or lug a pump.  I almost wish we had taken the pump because 1. I think it would have been lighter, 2. The baby was freaked out about the fact that it was VERY COLD up on the mountain and refused to nurse, and 3. I wouldn't have worried about the pump getting frostbite.

I think this is me... maybe its' Tyler.  There is only one button on the GoPro, so I'm not sure how we could have screwed it up, but here it is.  Unfortunately, the camera died before we could take a picture from the summit.  It looked like this:

image from summitpost.org

Camping at Lake Patagonia

I want to think of our family as One that Camps and Hikes.  After this weekend, I'm not sure that this is to be.  A few days ago, I was seized by anxiety about the impending summer and decided that if we were going to go camping anytime this year, right now- this weekend, in fact, was when it was going to happen.

Driving home this afternoon, I felt like a failure.  I had planned and executed this trip due to the fact that Tyler has had to work late pretty much every day this week.  I forgot a few items when I was packing: all toiletries except a brush and rubber bands (toothbrushes, toothpaste, contact solution and cases), tongs to turn the hot dogs, and I didn't get enough wood to have an evening AND morning fire.  This is not where the failure comes in.

 No, the failure comes in when you consider that the children were AWFUL the entire time.  They cried and whined about e v e r y t h i n g.  Lillian and Nora shared a sleeping bag that we opened up and folded like a hamburger, something we've done on other camping trips, this time it was unacceptable to both parties.  I brought the bear jammies for Ethan when he wanted the rocketship ones.  And, (this has been a growing trend around our house) they complained that they couldn't eat constantly.  I only brought so much food, the rations were not meager, but the lack of choices was devastating and could not be recovered from.

The lake was too cold to swim in, the boat tours were pricey, and Tyler has a semi-unexplained hatred of paddle boats, so we decided to take a hike.  This was a bad decision.  The kids were OK for about... half a mile... of our planned 2.5-mile hike.  It was too hot (approx high 70's), too sunny, not enough food, not enough of the food they want to eat, too much walking, not enough scenery, and I LOST ONE OF NORA'S SPECIAL ROCKS.

Side note: did you know that Nora loves rocks?  She always has at least one on her person, a special collection stowed away in her closet that she takes out and admires frequently, and I am constantly reminding her to take them out of her mouth.  At least once a day, I make her spit one out.

This picture was shot at the turn-around spot by the creek... right before Ethan wet his pants (something he hasn't done in a long time) and proceeded to cry the rest of the way back out of embarrassment and anger that I hadn't thought to bring him extra pants.

Tyler ranked the hike as a FAIL but the kids really liked the fire, so it was a net gain.  Lillian asked me when we'd go camping again, and I told her when she turned 10... in 3 years.

I wanted to go outside

Bat boxes

Every year as winter starts coming to a close, I start freaking out; summer is coming.  Summer is a time when we avoid the outside as much as possible.  A time when I grow weary of applying sunscreen and the smell of the pool.  A time when I just tell myself that I'm going to be sweaty for the next six months so I should just get used to it.

This year, the freak out is possibly more potent considering I've spent the last two months on the couch watching every episode of lots of shows.  All that time that we could have spent enjoying the glorious Arizona winter and the not-so glorious Arizona wilderness!  (It's very pokey.)

I made the decision that we'd go on a hike on Saturday, a decision that I knew was doomed to fail, but I wanted to try anyway.  The preparations took FOREVER because the children, I suspect, have formed a cabal to wage war against brushing teeth and putting on shoes.  Also, it had rained pretty hard in the early morning but looked like it was clearing up.  Maybe. Just in case, I decided we all needed rain-proof jackets.  This meant several minutes spent looking through boxes to find a slicky jacket with a hood that would fit Ethan.  "I get to wear PINK, just like Lillian!"

Before we even got on the freeway, it started pouring rain.  Like, monsoon-level downpour.  "Maybe it won't be raining over by the mountains," I offered.  Tyler knows better than to rain (haha) on my parade so he offered a quiet, "maybe."

Not only was it still pouring when we got to the mountain, but the website provided inaccurate directions (that's what I'm going with) so we couldn't find the trail head.  It looked sunny across the valley where Madera Canyon is, so we asked the kids if they wanted to find a different mountain, or if they wanted to go to the children's museum.  They all wanted a different mountain so we headed off across the valley.  It was a miracle; it rained and rained and rained our whole drive, and then cleared up a mile or so away from the canyon.  We were able to have a lovely hike and we didn't get rained on one time!

Is One Kid or Three Kids Harder?

Let's fast forward, away from Hawaii, to a few weekends ago.  I had just gotten back from taking the kids, by myself, to California for a week.  It was hard, but not as hard as I remember a trip I took with just Lillian when she was 2 and we went to visit family for a week.  Adjectives I would use to describe this last trip: fun, enjoyable, pleasant.  Adjectives I would use to describe that trip with Lillian: drudgery, tiring, exhausting, never ending.

I think I was pregnant with Nora, but that can't be the whole reason it was more difficult.  I think, now hear me out, that having 3 kids is in a lot of ways easier than having one.  With just one child, it's just you and that kid, staring each other down, all. day. long.  There is no one but you to distract them, to play with them, and to fight with them.  With 2 other kids around, you can outsource all of those things.  You can say, "Hey Lillian, go see why Ethan is crying," instead of having to leave your pleasant conversation with your sister to go find out for yourself.

These pictures are not from our trip to California.  As I was saying, right after I got back from California, it was the ward camp out, and Tyler took the kids up to Mt. Lemmon by himself because I had to work.

I don't think he (or I) would have been brave enough to try that with only 1 kid.  

However, he did not attempt to go hiking.  He's brave, but not crazy.