Three Hour Tour

First of all, last week, while we were working on the boat, we had the good fortune of being able to stay at Mark's jungle house in Cauchero. And, although we were entirely consumed with boat work, being at Mark's house was pretty amazing. Now that I have a little more internet and a lot more patience I'd like to tell you all about it.


The house sits a short (and steep!) jungle ride up the hill from the bay where the boat was moored. It has some of the most amazing views I’ve seen. His house is the only thing around, surrounded by miles of rain forest and ocean in every direction (almost creepy, it’s so isolated). The house is completely off the grid (of course there are no services in the middle of the rain forest) so all of the water is collected rainwater and the house runs on solar power. In the evening these cool little solar lights come on inside and you feel like you’re camping. We became accustomed to rising with the sun and retiring for the night shortly after dark. The howler monkeys would wake at sunrise, too, and make a cacophonous morning raucous. After breakfast the parrots and toucans would fill the trees just beyond the wrap around, tree top porch. It was a  sight. And there were fire flies! (Did you know that I thought fire flies only existed at Disney Land until I was 19 and saw them in Costa Rica for the first time?) I love fire flies. They are so magical. It was exciting for the kids to see them for the first time. 


The cold water shower was of the open air variety (read: out door) and situated on the north facing porch. That took a bit of getting used to for our modest and spoiled-by-unlimited-hot-water, kids. But, for me, the view and the cold water were invigorating! I loved it. 


As beautiful as it was, there were a few difficulties to being at Mark's tree top jungle abode. 


First, it was so isolated there was no where to go to get a burger and a beer after a hard day working on the boat. We were limited to eating whatever we could put together out of Mark’s pantry. And, he’s a bachelor who lives in the jungle, so options were limited. We ate a lot of pasta and rice. And canned mushrooms. But, I tell you. It was refreshing to see our kids eat EVERYTHING that was put in front of them with nary an "I don't like that" and then ask for seconds. With all of the snacking that we do at home, our kids seem to think that meals are optional and are served with a side of fussing. At Marks they discovered a new found appreciation for food. Hallelujah. I hope that lasts. 


Another difficulty was that there was relatively no internet, aside from Dave's iWife, of course, for which he's paying a small fortune for an international data plan (and thank goodness for that). So researching boat issues and how to fix them was tedious. We've become so dependent on the internet and the information that is so readily available to us. Sigh. 


For me, as much as I love the idea of being off the grid, the laundry situation proved rather challenging. Dave and I pretty much wore the same work clothes the whole week (clean sleeping clothes, of course) and the kids wore bathing suits so it wasn't our laundry that needed doing. It was boat laundry. All the towels, all the sheets, all the cushion covers (the ones that were salvageable) all the rags, all the foul weather gear. Everything. I was lucky that Mark has a mini washing machine. But with water and electricity being in short supply and everything having to be hung dry it wasn't easy. Especially with the ocean breeze running up the hill and the rain forest fog blowing down the hill, linens on the clothes line never really dry completely. They're always a bit damp. Then you put them on your bed and they still feel a bit damp. Even the toilet paper feels damp. Very unsatisfying. Anyway, I have a heightened appreciation for my mega load washing machine and my fossil-fuel-burning-dryer at home.  


Lastly, being so isolated in Cauchero was no good for getting supplies and tools to fix the boat. So after we had done all we could with duck tape, bleach, and a leatherman we decided to limp to the nearest "big" town, 20 miles away, on one engine and tattered rigging. We made up the bunks with damp sheets, stole the remainder of rice and canned mushrooms from Mark's pantry, and loaded our crew onto Balance for the three hour tour. 


It should have been smooth sailing and, at first, it was. We hoisted our black sail and were making pretty good time with our one engine. The skies were blue and there was just the nicest little breeze coming over our port bow. The seas were calm being that we were on the inside of the Bocas del Toro Archipelago. I made myself busy organizing the galley while Jack Johnson strummed his six string in the salon. It was lovely. And we were so happy to be sailing somewhere. Anywhere. Then Dave poked his head down into the salon and said, "Rain coming. You might wanna close up." 


"How many minutes?" I asked, reaching for a stray measuring cup deep in the galley locker. 


He glanced up, calculating the distance between our bow and the gray squall brewing near the cut where we were headed.


"About three."


I hopped up and started making the rounds; stowing stray gear and closing hatches. A few wayward rain drops slipped through the windows as I closed them up tight. 


Approximately three minutes later all hell broke loose. 


I had just finished closing up the boat and stepped out of the salon into the cockpit when I noticed that the rain was starting to fall in ernest. Then I saw our nine year old perched like a bowsprit on the starboard bow seat, in front of the open jib sail. The sail began to flap and flutter as the erratic winds of the squall were upon us. 


"Time to furl the jib, boys." Dave says. (This means roll it up. Not good to have a big sail up in a squall.)
No sooner had they released the jib sheets and starting cranking on the wench that rolls up the sail than a huge gust of wind slapped us across the starboard beam. The sail snapped angrily across the bow, the metal  grommet crashing loudly into every piece of standing rigging it could reach. At that moment, Evie, sensing impending danger, decided it was high time to make her way back to the cockpit. She narrowly escaped a concussion as she ducked and dodged her way past the deadly black sail as it bucked and spit like a wild bronc. My screams for her to "STOP!" and "LAY DOWN!" were reduced to silence by the howling wind, pounding rain, and thrashing sail. Thank God she made it back to the cockpit safely where she quickly grabbed her sister's hand and could be heard saying, "Come on, Soli. We're outta here," as the two of them retreated to the safety of their bunk to put on their pajamas. 


Meanwhile, back on the bow, the jib struggled wildly to free itself from the confines of the slapping lines. But the ropes held firm in an effort to break the enraged beast. The boys were no match for the snarling sail, and Dave's single motor, even at full throttle, was useless in holding us to weather. The wind pushed us off course and downwind, further enraging our sail. In no time our lines were a tangled mess, fruitlessly whipping at wind and sky with the terrifying crack of broken sound barrier. 


"Dammit." Dave cursed as he realized one engine is NOT as good as two. "I need to go on the bow and untangle those lines."


I looked up at our infuriated sail and the hissing mess of husband-damaging metal parts and whipping lines that were attached to it. I sent a silent plea to the wind gods to be gentle with him. 


"Emerson, take the helm. Heath, haul in on the port sheet. Cole, crank in the slack when you can," he ordered as he stepped into the ring to wrestle the writhing beast. It was terrifying to watch him up on the bow tacking and jibing to avoid the sail as it tried to buck him off the boat. But, the wild black jib was no match for my man, and he quickly wrangled the lines into submission. Cole and I took in the slack to keep the lines from tangling again while Emerson spun the helm to no avail, as the boat continued to be pushed downwind by the storm. Back in the cockpit Dave cranked on the wench handle and furled the broke beast onto the headstay.


Unable to make headway with one engine, we threw the hook and rode out the remainder of the storm in the salon. It was all over in 10 minutes. On the other side were promises of blue skies and internet. We happily arrived in Bocas del Toro at sun down where we have been enjoying the good life at Bocas Marina ever since. Unlimited water, electricity, internet, laundry, a restaurant (which we have shamelessly been frequenting 3 times a day for the better part of 5 days), and hot water showers...with doors. And, it's a darn good thing we're happy here because it may be a while before we can leave. 


Here's the good news and the bad news on the boat:


The bad news: The port engine needs the top end rebuilt.


The more bad news: You can't get those parts in these parts.


The good news: For a small fortune the Miami Grandparents are sending a small package worth another small fortune to Mail Boxes Etc. here in Bocas. Should be here in 7-10 business days. Thank you, Miami Grandparents for running around the greater Miami area on our behalf. I guess there were a few more things we forgot to buy. You two are life-boat savers.


The bad news: The majority of the sheets (ropes) on the boat are brittle and frayed.


The good news: Another cruiser here in Bocas just happened to offer a boat load (literally) of brand new lines. We bought them all for a small fortune.


The bad news: We were supposed to leave Panama a week ago to head north in time to pick up our friends in Honduras on March 5. Rule number one of cruising: NEVER make plans involving firm dates. We should have known better.


The good news: Those friends are spending a small fortune and flying here instead. Phew.


The good news: Dave borrowed a prop puller and was able to muscle off the half eaten props.


The bad news: The bolts are bent and so even though we have two replacement props (a small miracle, btw) we can't install them.


The more bad news: Of course they don't sell those particular hex bolts anywhere besides the Volvo Penta Marine Diesel Dealership in Virginia.


The good news: We paid a small fortune to have them overnighted to the Miami grandparents who included them in our care package. Should arrive in 7-10 days.


The bad news: The inverter seems to be dead and is not charging our house batteries. So even though we are on the dock and have unlimited 110V electricity we still have to run our engine and charge our batteries in order to be able to use our 12V systems (like the fridge, lights, and fans).


The good news: For a small fortune, Mark is picking up a new inverter in David, Panama. In the meantime, we borrowed a battery charger from a neighbor here on the dock so we have unlimited 12V.


The bad news: The windows and hatches still leak sumpin' fierce.*


The good news: It rains enough inside our boat for me to collect all of the water I need to do dishes for a whole day. 


*Since I typed this up Dave has sealed the windows by caulking the insides (caulking the outside wasn't enough).

This picture makes me laugh right out loud. It was taken overlooking the Mira Flores Locks of the Panama Canal. We had about 25 minutes before we had to be at the airport for our puddle jumper to Bocas del Toro. You know that scene in Vacation where Chevy Chase stands with his family overlooking the Grand Canyon, bobs his head for 3 seconds, and says, "Ok. Let's go!" That was us at the Panama Canal. We ran up the stairs to the overlook, had someone snap this pic, watched a big ship move halfway through the locks and then ran back down the stairs to our waiting taxi. Panama Canal: check.

On our way to Cauchero with our friend, Mark. Crazy as ever!

A darling family in Loma Partida. Look at that sparkling white laundry! (I wonder is she gets hers to dry.)

Dave trying to hear the weather report on the SSB overlooking the bay where Balance is moored. How 'bout them views...

Our first day of home school on the boat. No. It's not as much fun as it looks. At least not so far. 

Now this is as much fun as it looks. The kids have discovered the bosin chairs. They spend several hours a day swinging from the rigging like monkeys and throwing poop at the neighbors. 

A typical scene on our boat...

Need I say more? 

Boat Work

I forgot how much of a drag boat work is. I mean it SUCKS. And this boat has been almost entirely neglected and rotting away in the tropics since the last time we were on it...five and a half years ago. In fact, I found a pair of Emerson's mini boxers in one of the berths; size 2-4. He's eleven. Almost twelve. Honestly. And the septic tanks were full. Probably with our own poop. Too bad we didn't dump those when we had the chance, 'cuase now the pumps are shot. And so are most of the bilges, the radar, the air conditioning, the inverter, fathometer, tachometer, animomiter, and just about every other 'ometer on the boat, including one of the engine-ometers. The props look like they've been snacked on by a school of hungry zinc eating piranhas, the jib (head sail) is black (used to be white), and a colony of fiercely territorial wasps has made their home in the main sail. Just about every hatch has been leaking for five years which means every cushion under every hatch is totally moldy and disintegrating. And since the bilge pumps were broken and the hatches were leaking, the used-to-be-beautiful-hardwood-floors were submerged in water for who knows how long and promptly became fungus food. They will have to be replaced with not-so-beautiful-plywood-floors. There was a gecko nest in the port V-berth. You know how I feel about geckos. Remember THIS story? We caught him and let him go in the furled main in hopes that he can get a handle on the wasp situation. May the sea gods be with him.

There is good news: the stereo is working. And after some coaxing Dave got one engine running (they're like kidneys - we have two). After some more coaxing, he convinced the alternator to charge the house batteries. So we have 12 volt electricity. Yeah. The fridge and freezer are working and two out of three burners on the stove are working. The water maker is working. And although the jib is black, it seems to be in pretty good condition. We'll see how it holds up to a big blow. And, eenyways, I think it's cool to fly a black sail. Who does that? Besides Johnny Depp.

The kids are somtimes helpful with the projects on the boat and sometimes not so much. You can imagine. They are holding up relatively well expect for some itchy bug bites and the fact that Evie just told me she hasn't pooped in four days. Wonderful.

And, of course, Dave is totally in his element working on the boat. With the stereo thumping and a little help from Buffet, he is happily check marking his way down a seriously long list of to-do's. I was happily check marking along side him until today (our fourth straight day up to our elbows in mold and poop) when suddenly I wasn't that happy about being up to my elbows in mold and poop and stuck on a 38' boat with four kids (who, btw, have absolutely NO WHERE TO GO being that we are moored off of a mangrove jungle in the middle of Nowheresville, PANAMA!! What the BEEP was I thinking?!) P.S. Did you know that Panama is 9 degrees north of the equator? This is important for two reasons. One: it's stinkin' hot. Two: if you're fair skinned, like most of us, you can be in the sun at this latitude for about...say...two minutes before you're totally scorched. So the kids, having been totally scorched yesterday, were sequestered inside the boat for the better part of today where I was up to my elbows in mold and poop. And totally out of patience for the whole thing. So I told Dave that come hell or high water (or, in this case, both) tomorrow, if I have to row there myself, I am heading for the nearest dock where I will promptly be getting off the boat and renting a bungalow with electricity, hot water, wi-fi, and mojitos. Mama's batteries need charging, too.

Windward Bound

Oh my, oh my. We've been in Miami for the last five days visiting the Miami Grandparents and prepping (read: shopping) for our trip. And I'm pretty sure we've bought everything there is to buy for coastal cruising in the greater Miami area including but not limited to an Automated External Defibrillator (you just never know when you'll need one), a shiny new EPIRB (for if we're lost at sea - Don't worry, Mom. We won't need it.), goggles, snorkels, fins, flip-flops, sun shirts, sun hats, sun tea, sunscreen, & sundries. West Marine loves us. And I may need to use the AED on my husband as his heart is threatening afib with all the spending.

We leave tonight for Panama City. We'll visit the Panama Canal tomorrow (homeschool lesson number one), and then we take a puddle jumper tomorrow afternoon to Bocas del Toro, Panama. The boat is an hour and a half skiff ride from Bocas. Phew! Let the adventure begin!!

I also want to give a ginormous shout out to our dear friend Mark who is loaning his beautiful catamaran to house us during this adventure. There's a whole story that goes with that, but for now, Mark, you are the awesomest! We can never thank you enough for your eternal generosity and for encouraging us to get our salty crew sailing. We love you!!

Next stop...Panama!
We'll meet you there...

Hair Brained...And Five Years Ago Today

Three days 'til we embark on the adventure of a lifetime.

And am I ever hair brained!

Let me explain.

Being that my list is about 7 iPads long, time is currently one commodity that cannot be wasted. Gas, on the either hand, is not nearly in such short supply. So this morning I needed to run to school to snap a quick picture for yearbook (remember when I had all that "free time" for things like yearbook?). Anyway, I decided that I was far too busy to walk the two and a half blocks to school. Better to waste gas over time, I reasoned. So I drove. And parked right in front of the school. Before long "snapping a quick pic for yearbook" turned into "snapping a quick pic for yearbook, then sorting through a monster pile of lost and found (yes, found it), and then discussing the ins and outs of my homeschooling plan with the principal". By the time I left the school I was so short on time that I nearly ran all the way home. Only to find that my car had been stolen!

Honestly, if my brain weren't attached I may forget to pack it. But, at least the yearbook will be done.

On another note entirely, five years ago today we landed in soggy San Francisco.  After living in Guatemala for two months, we were finally bringing home our brand new baby girl. It was such a happy day. We love you, Sunshine. Check out that story here.

Three's A Crowd

My job as a wife is in jeopardy.

I'm in danger of being replaced.

By the iWife.

Also know as the iPhone 4S.

And I'm beginning to feel like a bit of a third wheel. They're inseparable. They spend all of their free time together. And she's always all up on his butt. I mean, I'm all about PDA, but seriously. It's a bit much.

The other day I overheard Dave talking to his iWife, and I'm pretty sure he was whispering sweet nothings.  Then I heard him say, "Remind me September 25 is my mom's birthday."

That's when I knew I was in trouble.

And the iWife responded in a delightfully cheerful tone, "Shall I create a reminder?"

I mean, we all know the appropriate response should have been, "What am I? Your secretary?"
      (Wifery 101)

And when he gave her the go ahead, she was a little too quick to reply in her sing-song Tinker Bell voice, "Reminder created!" I mean, the eagerness. It was embarrassing. Show some restraint, Girl.

At least I've got better boobs.

And, yes, she'll be going sailing with us. God forbid we leave her at home. 

*This pic was taken the last time we took the kids sailing on Balance. San Blas Islands - 2006.
**We leave two weeks from yesterday!

The Power of Four & Feliz Ano

The Power of Four

Four Kids

Four Months

Four Grades to Homeschool

Four Countries in Central America

Four Islands off of Cuba

Four Thousand Nautical Miles

Four ty-two Foot Catamaran called Balance

Four State Rooms

Four Weeks Before We Leave

Four the Love of Peanut Butter. Are We Insane? 

Four Sure 

Four-tunately I'll be blogging the whole "nauti" mess. 

Four your viewing enjoyment, here are some pics from our Navidad, which we spent soaking up the sun in Sayulita. 

Evie at Lancha and a proud papa. 

She got a bee sting for her 9th birthday on Christmas Eve. 

The Barefoot House was so cozy on Christmas. 

A Christmas Fiesta at our house. The kids celebrated with ginormous Mexican sparklers. 

How festive is this latte? Happiness in a mug. 

Soli's not too big on surfing, but she's serious about her beach fashion. 

A sunset hacky sack circle after surfing at Lancha. 

 Cole morphed into a merkid while we were there. 

 Dave owning the "Left" on the paddle board. 

 Cole & Em "sharing" a sweet ride. 

 I was so proud of Em for catching this sweet wave on Cole's short board. 

My beautiful sun kissed princess. 

I was so please to see the hibiscus blooming in our jardin. 

Feliz Ano to you and yours!

Stay tuned four all the gory details...

Fall

Let me tell you a little something about myself. And I'm not proud. I may need medication. Or an intervention.

Every year in August the kids go back to school. Like clockwork. And sometime shortly thereafter I go to "Back to School Night". This year I went to four "Back to School Nights". And I, like clockwork, feeling delightfully rejuvenated and full of myself after a nice sunny summer, was ready to conquer the world.
 Halloween Party? Sign me up.
The kindergarten Harvest Festival? Sure, I'll do that. Sounds fun.
Yearbook? Why not? - I already take a million pictures.
Volunteer in the classrooms? Yes.
Help with the Golf Tournament. You bet.
You need an Airband Chair Person? I can do that.
Team mom? Yes.
Brownie leader? Of course.
Anything else? Oh, yeah. This year I thought it would be fun to teach the fifth graders Spanish. (I don't even have a fifth grader.) You know what? Throw in the fourth graders, too. (I don't even have a fourth grader.)
And, then like clockwork right about this time of year, every year,  it all starts falling apart and I start sprouting new gray hairs as I realize I can't be in two places at once. Or three. Like the Third Grade Halloween party and the Kindergarten Harvest Festival and taking pictures of the Halloween parade for yearbook.
When will I learn? But now you know what I've been doing instead of Blogging.

But I will tell you this. Our urban farm has reached a new "egg"cellent level of existence.

I'm so pleased. Happy Fall. 

And here are a few more pics just because I love you and who knows when I'll be sitting here again...

 We went to a beach wedding. 

  Took the kids to Disneyland. Name that ride.

 I'm pretty sure I had those exact sunglasses when I was his age. Loved 'em. 

 We grew this singular, darling fig on the fig tree we planted last spring on our "farm". (Disclaimer: the fig was already on the tree when we bought it so I don't know if we can really take credit for "growing" it. But we did ripen it. And it was yummy. 

Look at my "tough as nails" 8 year old daughter going head to head with a big ol' 7th grade boy!

You wanna know where she gets her toughness? I'll give you one guess...

 Ahh. How sweet is he? He gets that from his dad. Thank goodness. 

Another one from "Team Mom". Feisty as they make 'em. But such a great kid. (Warning: I'm about to brag. Feel free to avert your eyes.) He got almost straight A's on his first report card in high school including 3 A+'s (P.E., Geometry, & Biology). We won't talk about that B- in English. 

 Another one from the Happiest Place on Earth. Name that location...

And to round out the family - another one for "Team Dad" so sweet and gentle (usually). How cute is she at the Harvest Festival? 

Now I'm really going. Hugs, H

Wistful

Don't I look wistful in this picture? That's because it was taken at Cole's 8th grade graduation. (By my girlfriend with her mega zoom from across the gym. Thanks, Erin. It's a lovely picture. Poignant with a hint of sparkle.)

Isn't he so adorable? (And, don't you love Dave's fu-man-chu? I knew I married an outlaw...)



I had barely recovered from that momentous event when BOOM just last Wednesday he started H.I.G.H.S.C.H.O.O.L. And he is quite possibly the most adorable freshman I've ever seen. (He looks JUST like Dave in high school in this picture.)

  And, I really thought I was prepared. I read the books. Got the skinny on teachers and programs. Sent emails. Made inquiries. Requested teachers. Went to the principal's coffee. Did my due diligence. And, when other moms were lamenting over the loss of their "babies" I was secretly rejoicing that my "babies" were no longer such babies. Hallelujah. I was excited to walk this next chapter (that I had been so fond of in my own life) with my son who will CLEARLY eat up the entire high school experience. Let me give an example. The Friday before school started, he and I spent the better part of the day at the high school picking up his class schedule, books, student i.d., P.E. clothes, etc. Lots of waiting in lines. When we got to the front of the student i.d. line the adorable, juniorish girl manning that station asked him what year he was. Without skipping a beat he lifted an eyebrow, cocked his head to one side, folded his arms across his chest, peaked at her from above the rims of his super cool aviators, and said in a voice more befitting a man than a 14 year old boy, "JUNIOR.....No. SOPHOMORE........No. FRESHMAN." My chin hit the floor, but she was smitten. She peered up at him, twinkle in her eye, smiling ear to ear and said, "You COULD be a junior. What's your name, Freshman?" As I gathered my chin off the ground and glance up at my man-child I was somewhat stunned to see the cocky confidence that permeated the very air around him. And I dare say I was proud. Because let's be honest. That's exactly what you need to be successful in high school -- a healthy dose of cocky confidence.

But here's where the story turns south. At least for me. He went to the "back to school" dance on Friday night. It was called the "Freshman Mixer". Which, p.s., I didn't really like that name. It sounded too much like a "Singles Mixer" or something. Anyway, the idea was that the "LINK CREW" (primarily junior and senior kids whose job it is to assimilate the freshmen into high school) were tasked to dance with as many of the freshmen as possible. You know, "make them feel comfortable"; "show them the ropes". Seemed like a nice idea. Although, this is what my freshman boy-in-a-man's-body had to say when he got home, and I quote, "Oh my god. I had the best time ever. Senior girls in short shorts and tank tops 'grinding all up on my junk.' " end quote.

I'll just pause here to let that sink in.

Observations:

1) How great that our kid is still willing to share all of the gory details of his life with us.

2) WTH - Were there no CHAPERONES? If there were, is this permissible behavior at the high school level? If so, I may need to consider homeschooling....again.

3) I'm seething mad. I do not want my kid's "junk" involved in any school time activities, Thankyouverymuch. Call me old fashioned.

4) I'm surprised to realize that I've become one of "those" parents. You know the ones like Dr. and Mrs. Houseman (Baby's parents) from Dirty Dancing. Or Reverand Shaw Moore (Ariel's dad) from Footloose. I remember thinking when I saw those movies as a teenager that those parents were so totally out of touch with their teenage kids. I specifically thought to myself, "When I'm a parent of teenagers I will not allow myself to be so out of touch with what's going on and what's 'normal' with the teenage crowd. And yet, here I am. Completely out of touch and totally appalled by this behavior. I'm calling Shaw Moore.

5) Who is looking out for these girls and their self respect? This "grinding" seems largely degrading to girls and women. Again, where are the chaperones? Who is the teacher advisor to this "Link Crew"?

6) Dave says, "It's no big deal. This is all part of growing up. At least he's talking to us about what's going on." Yes, that's true. Am I overreacting?

7) The good news: Cole told us that there was one girl that caught his eye.
       Me: "Was she a senior?" (gulp)
       Cole: "No, she's a freshman, and she's in my G.A.T.E English class." (Thank God.)
       Me: "Did you dance with her?" (gulp, gulp)
       Cole: "No. I didn't want to dance with her like that." (Thank God.)
So at least our moral teachings haven't past him by. Hallelujah. But it's still irritating to feel like the school is working against us as we try to impart on our son the importance of getting through high school without engaging in nonsense. (Read: without having sex -- or doing drugs.)

8) I'd like to send an email to the principal, but I hate to start off my high school career (yes, mine - I'll be in high school for the next 12 years. Sigh.) with a big honkin' issue like this.

9) Please advise, my dear, brilliant colleagues in parenting. What to do? How to handle?

One of "those" parents,
Mrs. S

An Urban Farm Update and Summer Snapshots

My little Urban Farm is thriving beautifully. The zucchini is delicious, the broccoli was beautiful (until it was overrun with aphids), the tomatoes are ripening, the celery was totally bitter but looked great, the artichokes are small but tasty, the olallieberries were bountiful (everyone will be getting jam again for Christmas. Felicidades.), we have ONE fig on our tiny little fig tree, and the chickies are full grown and have made the transition from dining room to backyard. Thank God. Jett and Zona love their little chickie brood and can often be seen rubbing noses and licking their little feathered friends in greeting. It's rather darling. We found a local chicken coop builder and bought the CUTEST coop made from all reclaimed materials. I would like him to build me a house just like it. And Dave enclosed the bottom section of the kids' play structure (you know where the sand is supposed to go but really it's just dirt) with chicken wire and a gate so we have an enclosed chicken run. Our white silkie turned out to be a rooster and here's the story on that.

One night I was having trouble sleeping; tossing and turning well past midnight. Emerson, who had recently watched a very scary movie thanks to his brother, was back and forth between our bed and his terrifying room of shadows and "scary noises". I'd finally had it up to "here" with the nonsense and sent him to sleep with his sisters.  Not long after, still lying awake in my bed, I heard a blood curdling shriek coming from the general vicinity of the girls' room. It was a horrible, horrifying sound of the likes I had never heard. I shook Dave awake and said, "Honey, I just heard a terrible noise." Naturally, he responded, "Well, you better go check it out." Let's take a quick time out here. Dave is an amazing husband and father. He provides for our family perfectly. But, when it comes to any nighttime occurrence, I'm on my own. It all started when we had babies and due to his general lack of boobs he was deemed rather useless when it came to the nighttime activity of nursing babies back to sleep. He quickly learned to tune out all nighttime noises. He makes no apologies for this, and I've come to respect it about him. At least one of us will be well rested in the morning. Besides if there really is something threatening my kids in the middle of the night then I'm the mama bear for the job. An intruder would stand nary a chance against me protecting my kids in the middle of the night. I'm a frightening (and impressive) force if my kids are threatened. So I jumped out of bed feeling badly for berating Emerson for his fears because clearly we did have a demon in our house. Who knew? I ran through the dark house to the girls' room, shouting in a whisper, "EMERSON?" Straight to the bed that he was sharing with Soli only to find two peacefully spooning angels. Evie snored softly in the upper bunk. Again, the shrieking. This time coming from behind me. In the kitchen? I turned on all the lights as I moved cautiously through the kitchen to the dining room. I stood quietly in the doorway, waiting. And then again the terrible noise. It sounded like a child crying out during a night terror. Or a baby goat bleating. Have you heard that sound? Creepy. Think Silence of the Lambs. But then I saw him. In the dog crate that had come to house our brood of chicks. Back lit by the heat lamp in the corner of the dining room. Standing as tall as could on his fluffy feathered feet. Our white silkie.....rooster! And I couldn't help but laugh right out loud as he puffed up his feathery chest and lifted his scrawny little chicken wings and let it rip. The most ridiculous (and terrifying) cock-a-doodle I'd ever heard.

The next day, Dave stumbled across a Craigslist Ad. "Wanted: A Silkie Rooster". We saw it as a sign from the Patron Saint of Urban Farms. So we called the number and after I was thoroughly satisfied that our little Peck-a-Choo wouldn't be used for any Devil Worshipping, Barb-e-quing, or Cock Fighting activities (people must think I'm crazy) we struck a deal. And as sad as we were to part with our little white silkie he is now happily cock-a-doodling on a real life Rural Farm. And the farm mistress promised us a couple of his chicks in the future. The End.

And here are some of my favorite summer snapshots.

We took Emerson and pals paint balling in June for Em's 11th. 

I thought this rock in Montana looked like a badger. 

Cole the fire master lighting all the kids' sparklers on the 4th of July in Montana. 

Cole getting up close and personal (to my dismay) with an elk in Yellowstone. 

Dave and I celebrated 15 years of marriage in July. 

Rocky Mountain 4th of July. 

We took the kids to Montana for two weeks in July. Here we are waiting for the parade down the main street in Ennis. 

In front of Gibbon Falls in Yellowstone. Cole was having time out up the trail. 

Painted ponies in Montana. 

Cole and Soli in front of the Madison river. 

Ahhh. Summer. 

Evie, fly fishing, and a full moon in front of the Fishing Shack in Montana. 

We opted to take a "short cut" on the way home from Montana. 120 miles of dirt roads (and small creeks we had to drive through). We didn't see a single other vehicle for 3 hours. I wasn't sure if we'd make it out alive. Thankfully, we had a full tank of gas and a reliable vehicle. Pesky iphones and their navigation apps. 

Houseboating and "wake surfing" with the cousins. 

Family reunion 2011. That's me in the purple with my parents and five younger siblings. 

I hope you've all had a lovely summer. Ours is almost up. Cole starts his first day of high school on Wednesday. Go Cowboys!