Call of the Wild or Hotel Camping Epilogue

I've stated previously that we are not campers.  Yet, we live in a part of the country where the number of campsites and protected areas of nature are rivalled only by Starbucks.  It seems everyone here either owns a dog, or goes camping regularly. Having had twins instead of a third child, we are less likely to get a dog than the family of cats living down the street.  A coworker of mine told me that he hated camping, but he went yearly with his boys for 7 years (not that he was counting) because they loved it so much.  Inspired by his willingness to be miserable for the sake of his kids, I felt like I couldn't deny my kids both a dog and their right to get to know the Great Outdoors.

We started with just camping in the backyard. My husband was skeptical. My sister and her husband joined us in their own tent. My son asked if it would be okay if he dug a latrine in the backyard. No, because we have several working toilets in the house. We told ghost stories. We learned that it gets extremely cold at night. The kids had a blast. My husband remained skeptical, but was game for real camping.  My son was especially excited about the prospect of digging a latrine. I assured him that there was a restroom at the campsite and we would not need to dig a latrine.

And I should add that when I say "real camping," I mean car camping, and only for one night.  Apparently, if you don't reserve a campsite at least 2 months in advance, they all get booked up by people that know what they're doing. We are not those people.

Figure 1. Eagerly awaiting my geeky friends' suggestions
on how I could make my graph more accurate.

We drove up to a site, amongst many other sites, and carried our gear down a dirt path a short distance. My sister and her husband were already there.  My son wondered if they had already dug the latrine. (FOR THE LOVE OF PETE.  WE DO NOT NEED A LATRINE.  THEY WILL HAVE BATHROOMS.)  We got our tent put up in 22 minutes, which was no small task given all the helpers.  I've done a little research and determined that the time it takes to complete a task is inversely proportional to the average age of your helpers and almost directly proportional to the number of helpers you have.  This is best represented in Figure 1. I am still conducting studies to determine the point of intersection.  After we put the tent up, my son asked if we would be digging a latrine next. We suggested making dinner instead.

We didn't take a lot of pictures of the twins' first camping trip.
Mainly because we were on Campfire Deathwatch,
Campstove Deathwatch, Dirty Shoes in the Tent Patrol,
Food That Fell on the Ground Patrol, and Bug Spray Patrol.

As expected, the twins had some difficulty getting to sleep.  What I mean by this is that they scared all the other campers, ghosts, and wildlife away.  I'm surprised the park ranger didn't pay us a visit, followed by Child Protective Services, quite frankly.  We had them in these peapods, kind of like a tent within a tent, so that instead of wandering around in the middle of the night, they were trapped like little aliens trying to kickbox their way out of the womb.  Having carried them in my womb, I've experienced what that's like, and kind of felt sorry for the little tents.  On the bright side, when we finally went to go soothe them, the little tents were so warm inside (from them being so worked up) that I didn't worry about the toddlers getting hypothermia overnight.

We definitely got dirty, but truth be told, I have four kids and I have definitely gone for much longer without showering. Big deal.  Not to brag, but we were nowhere near our family nadir of disgustingness. I think we'd need to extend our stay for a few more days to even get close.

Before we all went home, my son was able to spend an afternoon fishing with his uncle. He had a lot of questions about latrines, including whether or not you had to bury your poop.  Good camping talk. For his birthday, he told me he wants a camp shovel with a pointed tip so that he can... wait for it... Dig a latrine.

My husband stated that camping was just like being at home,
except that everything was suckier.
Here he is having a terrible time.

Here we are having a terrible time.

I'm pretty sure there's a kid in there, but not 100% positive that
a. there's a kid or b.which one it is. Based on the color of the bag,
probably my daughter.

The only thing more boring than fishing (to me) is
watching someone else fish.
I bet he's thinking about digging latrines.

The Water's Warm! Wait...

Water is a double edged sword when it comes to little ones.  On the one hand, it's a great way to get them exhausted and let them have some fun.  On the other hand, they need to be a certain age and proficiency at swimming before you really can relax, even a little, by the poolside. Pools kill more kids than guns. They are deathtraps. I say 'pool' instead of 'ocean' or 'lake' because as I've mentioned previously that I am not a camper at heart.  (see my Hotel Camping entry.) I feel similarly about oceans and natural bodies of water, which are possibly worse with their unpredictable currents and hazardous sea creatures.  I prefer to swim in chlorinated water. I like that calming fake blue color, the lack of sand between my toes, and a nice thick clean beach towel. I'm digressing.  This is really about the kids.  (Although, if it weren't for the kids, I wouldn't be fantasizing about being on a poolside vacation.  So maybe it's really about me.)

I'm always initially excited to find that the kiddie pool is warm.  Kids like warm water, plus then you worry less about them getting cold and coming up to you 3 hours later with their purple lips quivering.  It always takes a few minutes for it to dawn on me that swim diapers only hold in solid waste, and that my kids are probably peeing in the pool as I watch them splash happily.  It's not their fault.  They're babies and can't control their bladders yet. Then as my brain slowly, reluctantly connects the dots, I look around and realize that all the other toddlers and infants are also wearing swim diapers, which are also (hopefully) holding in solid waste. And that that nice warm spot that I am wading through is really, in all likelihood, no matter how much I deny it, other kids' urine. Mixed with what I hope is a good amount of chlorine.

What are the options really?  It's not like the sea creatures are eliminating anywhere else but in the ocean. Yeah, it's diluted, but still.  There's dead stuff, whale poop, environmental contaminants, fish semen, you name it. I guess there's the bathtub, but that's boring and indoors.  So, kiddie urine pool it is.  My kids are well-vaccinated, urine is theoretically sterile.  And after all, what are immune systems for? As long as they don't drink the pool water...

Team Michael

We had taken the whole family down to the park near our house, and the olders had run off to do their own thing.  We suddenly heard this screeching and wailing that sounded barely human-  it turned out to be Michael, hysterical. Another boy had accidentally hit him in the tooth with a swing, and half his tooth had chipped off.  He was bleeding, but fortunately, like all good Northwesterners, we had brought a towel to the playground to wipe the rain off the play structures, so we had something to hold pressure. I took a look.  His lip wasn't cut up too badly, but indeed half his tooth was missing.  My beautiful boy.

He gave me permission to post this.

In the meantime, the other kid was pacing back and forth, wailing, "I'm a terrible person!  I'm a terrible person!  Oooooooooh!  I'm a terrible person!"  My daughter was wailing, because she was so scared.  And then the twins started wailing, because it was the thing to do, while we were trying to give this kid our phone number and call our dentist's office. I'm pretty sure there was no one else in the park, because we had scared everyone away.

from colgate.com

I should mention that Michael in the past year has lost enthusiasm for going to the dentist. He has an overactive gag reflex, was having difficulty with x-rays, and at one point, a hygienist told him that if he didn't brush his teeth better, he was going to need a Root Canal.  In his mind, a Root Canal was about the worst thing that could possibly happen. At any rate, when he found out that he might need a root canal because of the exposed pulp on his broken tooth, he nearly jumped out of the chair. The very nice dentist explained the procedure in detail, which helped mainly because my kid finds comfort in details.

Move over, Edward. There's a new guy in town.

That night he said to me, "Mom. Some things in life are really hard." I wanted to express to him that it was hard to watch your kids go through stuff like that, and so I said, "You know, parenting is really hard..." He interrupted me, "No kidding, Mom. I mean, the twins are super hard to take care of, even for me."  Umm, okay. Then, without skipping a beat, he goes, "Well, at least it's easier to floss now."

I found out the next day that when he got sick of telling people at school the whole story, he started saying that he had been bitten by a 5 y/o vampire, one that had just lost her first tooth.  Which was why only one of his teeth was now pointy.  I understand some girls go for the whole vampire thing, so if American dentistry somehow fails him, at least he'll have that going for him.

*The dentist was ultimately able to fix his tooth, and so far, no Root Canal!

Bedtime for Bonzo

Sometimes my husband and I like to play a little game called "Guess which kid is not sleeping?"  It's a great game, because it's a total crapshoot. It could be anyone of them, and any number of them.  Sometimes we try to guess the percentage of children who are not sleeping.  Knowing their napping habits during the day can help you guess correctly, but other times, there is really no correlation.

The morning, on the other hand, is utterly predicatable. Julia wakes up first, then Michael, followed by Allison, and then slug-a-bed Matthew, who always needs about 1 1/2 hours more sleep per day than his twin sister. That's close to 550 extra hours of sleep per year, assuming this pattern continues.  This boggles my mind, but they're different kids with different sleep requirements, and there's not much we can do about it.
 

Michael.

Don't get me wrong- we have sleep routines, we've comforted them, we let them cry it out. Once they're in bed, we leave them there. Their bedtime is reasonable-- 7:30 for the babies, 8:00 for the olders. Well-meaning people with good sleepers always have suggestions.  I promise you we've either tried it, or it wasn't feasible for us.  If my husband hears people talking about how their babies slept through the night starting at 4 weeks old, he will walk away from the conversation. Our kids just don't really enjoy sleeping- they're worried they might miss something really interesting.  They love to eat, but sleeping is more of a necessity than a pleasure. When Michael was old enough to verbalize his thoughts on naps, he flat out told me, "I don't like sleeping.  It's boring."  I guess I don't really blame him. I don't particularly like sleeping either, although I've come to appreciate it more and more both for myself and others as the years go on, especially the less I get at night.

Allison.

Both Michael and Allison, once they transitioned into their big kid beds, had tons of clever reasons they needed to get out of bed.  We would tuck them in, and like clockwork, we'd hear their feet pitty-pat, pitty pat, and a plaintive little,  "Mommy?  Daddy?.....

       I can't find Bear.

       My blankets aren't covering me very well.
              (As if the blankets are making a conscious decision to be lazy fulfilling their job duties.)

       I need to empty my bladder.

       I need chapstick.  (Do your lips hurt real bad, Napolean Dynamite?)

       I didn't get enough hugs today.  (This one is especially difficult to resist.)

       I'm parched.  (You're parched.) Yes, Mommy.  It means 'thirsty.'

We're used to it by now, and of course it's much easier as the kids get older, but I'm sure the twins will have a whole new list of Reasons to Get Out of Bed.  I've heard that once they get to be teenagers, you can't get them out of bed before noon. I'm skeptical, as I've heard Michael say something to the effect of, "I like to get up early so that I can get my day started." On the other hand, maybe they will.  The thought of four kids all still asleep at 11 am makes me apoplectic. Or maybe narcoleptic.  Or both.

Julia and Matthew.

                           

Bad Mommy

The American Academy of Pediatrics now officially recommends that toddlers remain rear-facing in their seats until age 2. Or until they become obese. We've known for a while that they are safer rear-facing until age 2, but this is the first I've heard that it's actually recommended. I'm going to be an outlier here and admit that I had my twins facing forward a few days before they turned 1. They love it. I love it. I feel guilty that I don't feel that guilty about it. My older kids were forward facing at 12 months, so I kind of went with the same thing this time around. I don't really know what they weigh right now, although I'll find out this week at their (few months late) well-child check. Their legs got too long, they'd kick against the seat, and I couldn't see them. Plus, I'm a Freakonomics fan (http://www.freakonomics.com/), and seriously, how did we all survive to adulthood?

My daughter who is nearly 5, but small for her age, was also probably in a booster before she should have been. I needed her to be in something that she could buckle into and out of by herself. She was pretty close, but didn't have the hand strength to do the 5 point harness.  Now she helps her friends, from whom she receives hand-me-downs, with their buckles when we carpool for playdates.

While I'm on a roll admitting all my bad-parenting techniques here, I also ate sushi and drank coffee while I was pregnant, and continue to use drop-down side cribs (http://abcnews.go.com/GMA/ConsumerNews/crib-recall-dropdown-sides-fatal-infants/story?id=9161897). I don't buy organic all that often, because it's more expensive. I pick up binkies off the floor and give them back to the kids without washing them. I really really do. I have binkies that haven't been washed in months. MONTHS.

I also don't do baby sign language.  I want my kids to learn how to use their words.  I've read that kids who use baby sign language tend to be earlier readers. I'm not worried. Again, I feel guilty that I don't feel worried about it. Like I'm tempting fate.  There, I've said it, and now it's out there. I'm probably going to get reprimanded, or people will silently tsk-tsk me from their computer screens.

I did get rid of my old Avent bottles and now use the BPA-free ones. And my kids eat a LOT of veggies and fruit, and daily fish oil. The twins were breastfed until 14 months. (How much does it matter if they were already able to chew meat?) And they are all big readers, even though they don't know any sign language. Oh, and I finally got baby gates installed on the stairs. And generally speaking, the kids are clean (except their binkies, which admittedly are filthy), healthy, happy, and well-adjusted.

I really should get wash their binkies. Or just get rid of them, as I've heard they're bad for orthodontia and increase the risk of ear infections. I'm not ready for that yet.