Camping is fun. Right?

Growing up camping was a major part of my childhood. Family vacations involved whitewater canoeing and camping. If we went to the Florida beach, we camped. If we explored the wild west, we camped. I was an expert tent builder by eight including set-up in the dark. By fifteen my parents had upscaled to a thirty year old pop-up camper. It's only perk was we remained dryer being off the ground and was allowed to haul more stuff. Staying in hotels were for rich people or winter travel. All of this was fine by me.

Now that I am a mom, of course, I my must expose my child to the love of camping, but our last two expeditions were not love. It was exhausting.

My daughter has camped before doing wonderfully. It was almost like she was a creature of the wild and her spirit was enchanted by her environment. She slept well. Was patient and enthralled by her surroundings. However, as my daughter is growing older her attention is easily distracted and consumed.

Our first debacle was a late arrival to the Cumberland Fall area, postponing her evening feed. After a stressful erection of camp listening to a panic baby scream in hunger my husband and I soon grew weary. Once coaxed with nursing the storm seemed to subside, but it was only temporary. The battle was lost leaving my husband and I delirious the entire day to follow. Lucy spent most of the night crawling over her parents, hog-tied to the breast, crying hysterically, giggling in amusement, passed out controlling all the blankets. (I dare not move her to obtain warmth.) We tried to recover with a scenic breakfast and hikes with waterfalls, but I was so grateful to return home with a sleepy baby increasing my chances of restful recuperation.

The second attempt was less coordinated. What was meant to be an early morning drive turned into an early afternoon trip to Cumberland Lake without any reservations. Being disorganized did pay off. We found a camp site at the end of a cul de sac. Then we went swimming, biking, and roasted a delicious meal. My husband was not willing to risk another sleepless night selecting his bed between two trees in a hammock. I determined to make memories retired to the tent with my yawning daughter and dog.

A night of sandman dreams could have been accomplished had two errors not occurred. First and most aggravating was our neighbors. They were composed of about three different hispanic families with three children each. The ethnicity is mentioned only because the kids are screaming in Spanish. The parents were very kind, but they set up their tents upon ours. Meaning with every sound and cry Lucy reacted. When nursing was completed she wanted to look out the window to wave at the other children. I slipped out hoping she would rest her eyes, but it took about another hour for the camp to grow silent. When I do re-enter the tent my daughter is wide-eyed ready to nurse some more. Eventually, all is quiet, but my dog reminds me of my second mistake. I have not allowed her to potty and at midnight she must relieve herself. I release my dog before I have found her leash and my shoes. This means she is following her nose into the neighbors' camp, which means I am whispering loudly and and grazing my flashlight to find her. Fortunately, she does respond to my call, but has she relieved herself near a neighbor's tent?

Two hours later, my dog is restless again. I reluctantly grab the flashlight and my shoes with the leash to let the dog go potty. While I am only wearing a t-shirt and flip-flops we tour the campsite hoping to find the perfect potty spot. She pees, but this time because I am fed up I tie my dog to my husband's hammock as I mutter my contempt. No sooner do I return to my pad then my daughter cries for another snack.

The next morning I am awaken by a particularly cheerful blue-eyed daughter full of smiles and giggles. How can anyone be mad? The dog, I found in the car. The husband is sleeping but later says he received little sleep for fear of a bear attack. The food is removed from the car, so the dog could not have an evening buffet, and placed on the car's roof. Though tired and annoyed, the wonderful coffee my husband makes erases my scorn. We pack up camp managing to have a memorable day.

My daughter seems to love the camping experience; to mimicking bird sounds to pointing to all the trees to playing in the dirt to eating fire roasted food. Lucy sleeps in her own room in a crib, so if I can just create that scenario for camping maybe there is hope. Whether I have a smaller tent within the bigger tent, let her sleep in the car seat of the car, or heavily sedate her we are going to have good camping memories like every healthy well-adjusted child is suppose to have.

Running in Limbo

I have a favorite running trail that I visit often. Its perfect for an undedicated runner such as myself. It has plenty of shade coverage being particularly helpful on warm days when I get a late start. The trail is not paved, which for someone who has bad knees is definitely beneficial. The trail is on a winding rolling terrain along a creek enclosed within a forest. I love the mountains of the Tennessee/North Carolina border and the trail allows me to think I am traveling the area lost in nature and peace.

I started visiting the trail because its rather unappreciated and under traveled which was the perfect place to allow my dogs to trot along leash-less without being a nuisance to anyone. I am one to believe my dog will obtain more exercise if she is not hindered by my pace. However, I am finding this solitude has one major drawback.

No, it's not because I feel unsafe and what if I met an unwelcome passer-by. It's not because I am worried I could injure myself and I would be stuck in the middle of nowhere in a cell phone dead zone. It is because I am the first one to use the trail therefore constantly running into cobwebs. If you believe the Old Wives Tale the harshness of the coming winter can be determined by the number of spiderwebs this winter is going to be a doozy.

As I am running on my favorite trail I have to remain focused and look straight ahead at all times hoping I will see signs of approaching webs. Sometimes the sunlight will reflect on the web and I can make a quick duck or notice the spider clearly waiting at the center of his trap or maybe a a leaf will be free-floating in the web creating attention. But inevitably I will make a face-plant into the web staring face-to-face with a spider on my nose or crawling through my hair. Most of the time I can feel the strands of web dangling on my eyelashes or arm as I am grabbing at nothing trying to free myself from the eerie entanglement.

What's worse, the webs are not necessarily at head level and since I run pushing a stroller in front of me with my daughter inside, sometimes she gets to meet fate with a spider. Not only am I zig-zagging the trail practicing my flexibility as I run and bend in futile attempt I am also batting webs and spiders before they are introduced to my daughter. A rather interesting obstacle coarse.

I need to design a hat or apparatus to wear that punches through the webs leaving me unscathed. Maybe I could wear superhero apparel protecting me from the threads of silk that send chills down my back each time I am ensnared. Actually, the spiders have been very understanding never leaving a bite mark as I demolish their home but I still do not enjoy the feeling of web sticking to my skin. I just hope I am not building a complex for my daughter to fear spiders. Hopefully, she will receive it in strides and gain appreciation for the great architects spiders are.

Future Farmer of America

Tonight we visited the state fair. It was a strange experience. I grew up in a small Tennessee town outside of Nashville. However the county took pride hosting the best county fair in the state. With plenty of acreage for vendors and buildings for livestock and exhibits, it kept the curious mind engaged for hours.

The Kentucky State Fair could make a person right down spoiled. Except for the amusement rides and some food vendors all events were contained in air conditioned buildings. A huge facility that never seemed to end. On a normal year when mid-August temperatures are in the 90s I am sure the cool building is appreciated. For this strange year, today being high of 79, low 57, it would be nice to enjoy festivities outside. I also dressed ready to get dirty wearing jeans and tennis shoes. But unnecessary. I was inside most of the time walking on smooth clean floors.

My daughter, Lucy, got to experience her first fair, as unconventional as it was. The fair offered plenty of kid friendly exhibits as well as offering good hygiene. There were hand washing stations everywhere. I am quite diligent about teaching animals and the sounds they make, but Lucy's association comes mostly from books. Tonight books became reality. Like her exposure to the chickens and dogs, she now understands the sounds cows, pigs, and sheep make.

To top off the evening, ending on a sugar high, Lucy enjoyed locally made cookie 'n cream ice cream. Maybe next year Lucy can appreciate the true August fair in 90 degree heat and 100% humidity with her feet covered in dust.

Slightly Disgusting. Read with Discretion

With this lead, allow me to offer insight about my daughter's bowl movements. Based upon a certain expression I almost always know when she has experienced a poop. I will ask, "Did you poopie?" And she will respond with a firm "No" when in fact the perplexed straining face says otherwise.

When this particular bath time is finished I allow my daughter to move around and air out as usual. Give her booty a breather sort of speak. She has sashayed around the room then stops to sit on her knees with her bottom touching the floor. I look down and notice a brown nugget. My daughter looks down and notices another nugget developing from between her legs. She looks at me and screams in horror as she pushes out the remaining piece. It was as if this was the first time to ever see poop and how dare it come from her body.

I quickly grab her body returning her to the tub to use the sprayer rinsing off any debris. She continues crying. Sensing this could be a teachable moment I point to her work and say "poopie." I leave her to the tub while I clean up the clump from the floor. Years of dog messes has prepared me for this occasion. Once the area is sanitized I return my daughter to the floor to continue her ritual, however, she seems altered and confused. Once dried off I wrap her cloth diaper around her and we wave "bye-bye" to her turd as it flushes down the toilet. Then I immediately had to text a picture to my husband to explain the event. As humorous as I find her reaction to be I can only hope this has been a valuable lesson towards potty training. I can hope, can't I?

My Daughter Doesn't Walk

My daughter Lucy is 17 months old. She continues to bring wonderful delight to my husband and myself. My husband who is quite the joker and impressionist is only made more entertaining when Lucy imitates his characters. Lucy and I have been volunteering at the animal rescue and all the other volunteers agree Lucy is the best patiently watching as mommy cleans poop and pee. She is also gracious to greet the calm dogs while correcting the excited ones. She often offers directions in the house pointing to objects eager to learn its name. And when an uncompleted task creates frustration, talk about a tantrum.

Lucy loves to crow with the rooster. She loves stuffed animals, especially pink ones. She loves eating cottage cheese, humus, and smoothies. She loves drapping objects around her neck such as necklaces, purse straps, and my underwear. She loves nodding her head and swaying her hips to a catchy beat. She loves when I start reading a book and she finishes with the book upside-down. She loves having a good conversation with herself and ending on a punchline and a giggle. Rummaging through drawers and cabinets offers endless entertainment as well as exploring the outdoors.

All this to say, my daughter has a personality that can meet no frown. Yet, I am consumed with her lack of walking. I probably have one of the easiest, loving kids, but it's not enough. She must walk because it is a reflection on my parenting, right? She is my first so I have to prove I can parent well.

We had a physical therapist evaluate her development. She was described and bright, but noticed a hindrance. Lucy has very flexible ankles that allow for weak instability. She needs to wear sneakers to offer an arch and stabilize the ankles. Standing tippy toe is okay and moving through obstacles like pillows can be fun exercises.

I am thinking, "Weak ankles! What have I done to inhibit muscle strength?" I rarely used a swing or pack n' play, unless she was already asleep. Never used a walker. Used a jumper, but only a few minutes (~ 20 minutes) daily. Honestly, I left her on the floor for the majority to have tummy time. Why does her other cousins (3X ~ six months apart) have high muscle tone while she is a limp noodle?

I could play the blame game and try to push my child to work harder, but it would not make me nor her happier. I would probably only alienate her. The lack of motility, though hard on my hip from side holding her, has offered more time together. I do not sense she is trying to gain independence from me for that will come soon enough. She still reaches up to me so we can meet new discoveries.

It might be a mistake, but I have decided to wait on the physical therapy. Thank goodness for parents who know what she is going through and offer reassurance that she will be walking in no time- then I will not be able to catch her. She has arch building tennis shoes. I sneak chocolate on the counter as an enticement. Place objects of interest in higher drawers to encourage tippy toes to build muscle. I allow her to climb furniture to offer accomplishment. Lucy has been pretty successful so far. The last thing I want to suggest is, "You're not doing it right. You better work harder." Besides working for chocolate on kitchen stools is more fun.

For some reason I think to myself, "If we can overcome this obstacle life will be so much better." Then I remind myself it will always be something. This is the easy part. I am simply afraid of letting her down. Lucy is an awesome child and I hope she will continue to be recognized for her delightful personality apart from my shortcomings.

Above all, I want to show responsibility for my most cherished gift and gratefulness to be apart of her life.