"It's a Sweater!"
In 1986, when I was nine, my mom took me and my brother to see the movie The Three Amigos. I think you had to be between the ages of 7 and 9 to appreciate this gem of a film to the extent that my brother and I did / do. Almost everyone else thought it was so-so. But all of you 44-to-46-year-olds out there know what I’m talking about. “In-famous?” “I think it’s a male plane.” “You killed the invisible swordsman!” “Would you say I have a plethora of pinatas?” And my personal favorite line: “It’s a sweater!” If you try hard enough, you can make any piece of literature relevant to your current situation. There are zero connections between parenting and The Three Amigos, but for some reason, I keep thinking about this ridiculous film lately, and how it pertains to my life as the parent of a 50-pounder. Read on if you somehow have any remaining interest. (I’m lookin’ at you, Uncle Josh!)
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The Best of Times?
Years ago, in the Before Times, I overheard a co-worker telling another teacher that she was worried about Summer Break, because it was so hard to enjoy her kids. It was a June day, less than a month before school let out, and I couldn’t understand how anyone could view Summer Vacation as anything other than pure bliss. Back then, Summer meant sleeping in and staying up late, going for long runs and hikes, reading a dozen books, etc. The world was my freaking oyster. This idyllic version of Vacation was, apparently, not quite the summer my co-worker was looking forward to. My skepticism was obvious, and the other teacher – also a mom – replied tiredly, "Only another mother would understand.”
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All Joy And No Fun
. . . Although this was not the first time I had waxed sentimental at REI (I go to great lengths to avoid the yoga apparel section for fear of sobbing and clinging onto anything with a Prana label), something about this particular interaction struck a chord with me. At 5, my son has a variety of interests, and my role at this point is essentially the “fun things coordinator.” Lately it has become increasingly obvious that when it comes to having fun, I have fallen into the trap of Living Vicariously Through My Child
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The Great Indoors
Tonight, Travis and Levi are spending the night camping in our backyard. More importantly, I am not. For the first time in 4.5 years, I will be spending an entire night alone in my own home. Champagne, anyone?
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The Wee Wanderer
I started a post about becoming a semi-serious runner again after having a child. Inane, I know, but wait. I was about halfway through writing when my mind began to go in a different, much more interesting direction: Who is “The Wee Wanderer,” anyway? And then I wrote the following enormous aside. . .
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Hiking with a Threenager 101
The ultimate test of how much you love doing something is whether you’re willing to do it with a three-and-a-half-year-old. Apparently, I really like shopping at Michael’s and hanging out in beer gardens. Cooking spicy food? Staying out past 7pm? Nope and Nope. (Sorry, Travis.) Now that our 40-pound threenager has solid opinions and words with which to express them, could we find a way to keep hiking? Or would our favorite pastime be kicked to the curb for the next decade, like chili powder and our social lives?
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No Reservations
When we got married in August 2011, Travis and I eternally marked our calendars for the annual Big Camping Trip / Wedding Anniversary Celebration. On that inaugural summer nine years ago, I had been too busy planning the wedding to think about anything else. (Boutonnieres, you guys? Really?) So, for our actual honeymoon, we never got beyond selecting the general vicinity of our destination: “Canada.” … But over the years, the Big Camping Trip has become a much more orchestrated event. In fact, planning it has become something I look forward to almost as much as the trip itself. . .
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The Future Future Tense
Picture this: A family of three has pulled over at a lakeside picnic area for lunch. It is Day 1 of a multi-day camping trip. The child has forgotten all about food and runs -- fully clothed -- into the water up to his knees, laughing and splashing and shouting. The father’s right beside him, exhibiting similar behavior. Where is the mother, you ask? She’s standing by the car, of course, with a look on her face that any other mother would recognize: I don’t think I packed enough pants.
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Backpacking with a Toddler 101
Recently, a friend told me that she had had an altercation with a gardening-store attendant who was angry that, due to the COVID quarantine, gardening had become unusually popular. Rookie gardeners were buying up all the seeds and supplies, and loyal customers were being turned away. “Everyone’s gardening!” the irritated attendant complained. Well, that’s the way I feel about camping. You guys, everybody’s camping!
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The Test
This is the story of how a woman with both a job and a 3-year-old managed to go for a hike by herself during a pandemic. It is more comedy than tragedy. You’re welcome.
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Let Them Step On Used Needles
Last weekend, while on a run with Levi, I wheeled the jogging stroller right through a pile of open syringes. The stroller – a heavy-duty B.O.B. brand, worth every penny – didn’t flinch. I realized what I’d done after I crunched a couple with my sneaker, but after establishing that nothing was punctured, I continued on my merry way. (This story has a happy ending. Well, sort of.)
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Busted!
Last April, I literally busted out of 2 pairs of pants. I was – both times – in the process of the seemingly innocuous act of sitting down … In my butt’s defense, both pairs of pants were old and worn. But, after the second bust, I could not ignore the obvious: 2 years without a strenuous workout was taking its toll. That was 9 months ago, and nothing has changed. The question is: Do I care?
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October Fest
Let’s talk for a moment about the month of October. Despite the hype about sweaters and pumpkin spice lattes, I have mixed emotions about this month.
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Life After Labor Day
There is nothing quite as pathetic as a Pacific Northwesterner at the tail end of Labor Day Weekend.
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Comfort Zone
The first weekend in July was notable for 2 reasons – it was both our nation’s birthday, and the Menaul Family’s first camping trip since last Labor Day, which will be forever remembered in Menaul Family History as “the trip that broke us.” Readers of this blog will remember that Levi rounded out the 2018 camping season at Sequim Bay State Park, where he transformed our formerly idyllic 3-man tent into a veritable torture chamber. Suffice it to say that we approached this first camping trip with more than a bit of trepidation.
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Margaritaville
Saturday late afternoon finds me at La Costa Mexican Restaurant in Burien drinking a very large margarita by myself. Why, you ask, am I drinking alone, on Mother’s Day Eve? Travis and Levi are, in fact, on the premises, but it is not yet clear whether Levi is willing to join us at the table, and, as I told the hostess, “I would like a margarita nonetheless.”
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The Best-Laid Plans of Mom & Dad
Am I the only sucker-mom out there who still makes plans with the expectation that they will unfold as I imagined?
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10 Miles To Tulip Town
When you become a parent, the concept of “vacation” changes entirely. Before Baby, a vacation meant that I was “off.” Of everything. After Baby, one or two things (money-job, laundry, or meal preparation, say) might stop happening for a few days, but the main thing – the all-encompassing life-or-death responsibility that is parenting – is still there. That never goes away.
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Clamming With Your Toddler 101
It’s deep winter, and you’re over it. You’ve taken all the advice: gone cross-country skiing, taken family yoga and music classes, visited multiple children’s museums. But you want something new. An adventure. The wind in your hair and the sand in your shoes. It is time, restless reader, for you to head to the sea. . .and go clamming. Yep, that’s right – clamming.
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Delighted! Again!
Last Monday and Tuesday, schools were closed, and when we came back on Wednesday, students (and many teachers) complained of having been “bored.” I know that my toddler will one day be a teenager, but it’s almost impossible to imagine him bored, ever. There are just too many things for him to be delighted with in this still newish world, and as I started to feel cooped up inside and a little bored myself, I was even more impressed by the things that Levi is entertained by.
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