Happy Camper

I’ll admit it, as a kid, I despised, loathed, HATED camping.  It was pretty much the worst thing my parents could do to me.  Maybe second only to cross country skiing (I’ll save that story for another day).  The bugs, and the being dirty, and the squatting to pee.  *shudder*  I have very vivid memories of feeling rocks burrow their way into my back as I lay on the cold, hard ground, counting the seconds until it was time to wake up and go home.  (Melodramatic, much?  Ha.  I was a teenager… what do you expect?)

And yet, now that I have some kiddos of my own, when Joel suggested we take the boys camping, I immediately jumped at the chance to subject them to the same torture my parents had inflicted upon me expose them to the wonders of nature.

The weekend prior to our camping adventure, Joel and I did a little Set Up the Tent dry run, which really proved to be helpful in allowing us to set up the tent on actual camping day without A) Wyatt running around and on top of and inside the tent the entire time and B) knocking Calvin to the ground. And hey, a giant bag of marshmallows turns out to be exactly the right thing to keep a toddler happily occupied.  So, there we were, winning at life, enjoying the weather and the lake and our picnic lunch.  We magically convinced the kiddos to nap, taught Wyatt how to pee on a tree (I’ll give the credit to Joel on this one), made dinner over the fire and ate s’mores.  (side note: Wyatt seriously kept asking, ‘some more what?’ no matter how many times we explained that no, that’s just what they’re called:  ‘Do I want some more WHAT?’)

And then we turned in for the night.  Aaaaaaannndddd, cue worst night sleeping in a tent ever.  Seriously.  I wanted to go back and find my wimpy. whiney teenager self who whimpered and cried because, ‘camping is so haaaarrrrddd’ and tell her to shut it.  Because well, one, it was cold!  So so so cold, and we had not prepared for that.  And, before you even ask, yes, we had sleeping bags, and no we couldn’t use them properly because I was sleeping with Cal in my bed and I was afraid of smothering him the entire night, so I lay there most of the night shivering and covering his freezing hands and ears and making sure his face didn’t suffocate in the blankets.  And, all night long I wanted to cry and kept thinking, no way in hell are we staying another night, I am FREEZING.  But, then came morning and sweet Wyatt popped his head up and looked so dang adorable and Calvin started laughing at his awesome older brother and I shut my trap.  I turned to Joel and said, “Well, morning is nice.  We can stay another night if you want to.”   And, darling that he is, he said, “No way.  I’m not doing that again.”

So, we ate and we packed and we drove home.  But, believe it or not, I want to do it again.  Just maybe with a pair of socks next time.

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Life As Of Late

Life with two boys is amazing and hilarious and wild and awesome.  Wyatt is 2.5 going on 30.  He loves a good book and will read for hours in his room.  He’s a chatterbox and a knowledge addict.  His favorite question is “why?” and he bounces back and forth between loving and hating his new brother.

Things you’ll hear around our place these days:

In the mornings: “Daddy, can we go get a latte?”

If Calvin fusses or cries: “Mommy, can you go feed Calvin?”

At the playground: “Dammit, that girl’s on the swing!”

When he’s ready for the bedtime routine to end: “Ummm, can you go sleep in your own bed?”

He runs at all times, usually shouting “Hey!  I know…” before beginning some new adventure.

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Calvin is hilarious and feisty. He hates when I talk, read, eat, breathe while I am nursing him. He loves to be the center of attention (wrong birth order kiddo!), and talks A LOT. He’s already hard at work keeping up with his brother and lights up when Wyatt walks into the room. Just today he started laughing deep belly laughs. He is BIG and strong and a total momma’s boy.

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It’s busy and loud and out of control over here. Read: exactly as it should be.

My Pal, Cal

A little over three months ago, there I sat, trying to mentally prepare for the birth of our second son.  I wasn’t nearly as nervous as I thought I’d be, but I was uncertain how I would feel tomorrow, how Wyatt would react to his new brother, how our family would change with this new addition.  The next morning Joel and I got up before the sun and walked to the hospital hand in hand.  It was cold and it was dark but we were ready to meet our son.

Fast forward a few hours of sitting and waiting and all of a sudden it was time.  I was scared and I was hopeful that Cal’s lungs would be strong, that he would be healthy, that I’d get to hold him right away.  At 9:13am Cal was born and he cried an enormous cry, peed all over the floor and was the most beautiful thing in the world.  He was big and strong and healthy and before I knew it, he was in Joel’s arms and laying by my face.  We sat like that for a long time, just the three of us, snuggling and whispering and feeling just completely full of joy.

I couldn’t have asked for a better birth story.  Calvin George, with his perfectly round face and full head of blonde hair, fit in my arms perfectly.  He was healthy and strong and nursing him for the first time felt like we’d been doing it for years.  It was strange to see this little baby in my arms and know that he was so similar to and yet so different than Wyatt, but at the same time he felt like he’d always been a part of our family.  When I’d gaze at him sleeping in my arms he looked so much like Clementine and Joel that I couldn’t help but smile and feel my heart swell.

Wyatt, to be expected had mixed feelings about his new brother.  I believe his first words were: “I don’t want it.”  But, he eagerly held his brother for the first time, hugging him and kissing him in the way only a big brother can.

It has been three months since we brought Calvin home, and I can’t even remember life without him.

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