Fun and Games

This past Christmas was a Clarkston Christmas. In the Cache Valley in Utah, there is tiny town of around 700 people called Clarkston. My dad's parents live there, in the home that my grandma grew up in. The house started with only two rooms, but it is now spacious, with plenty of room to accommodate parents and children, siblings and cousins, grandparents and grandkids, and great-grandkids. There is a barn with calves and horses, and, right now at least, a nine-foot snowman in the front yard.

Since I grew up in Indiana, we were only able to travel out to see extended family once every few years. But even though we had to rebuild relationships with aunts, uncles, and cousins every new trip, Grandma and Grandpa were always the same. The house, the warm ambience, the stark and permanent mountains, they all stayed the same.

And so did the games.

Mine is a game playing family. Our little family, alone in the midwest, loved playing board games, hide-and-seek games, invented games with trampolines and lines and trees and balls (think Calvinball)--everything worked. But these tendencies increase exponentially when we converge with the rest of the family at my grandparents' home.

This Christmas holiday was characteristic of the family gatherings I remember. With twenty or more people milling around, some cooking, some cleaning, some watching the latest animated movie, some reading, some plunking around on the piano, some chatting, some milling around on their various wireless devices, there is nearly always some combination or other of people (of all ages) playing a game. We played card games, play-doh games, dice games, improv games, word games, Wii games, board games, variations on any and all games (Speed Scrabble, anyone?), and all in the approximately four days that most of the family was together.

One of the main instigators of all this game-playing craziness is my Uncle Mike, Dad's older brother. He's the one that keeps everyone laughing long enough to get into the games that others might be too introverted/embarrassed/party-pooperish to try.

The result? We never get stuck in the same old game-playing ruts, and everyone had a chance to try something new. Where else would you see a group of 19 people between the ages of seven and seventy sculpting play-doh masterpieces?

The Christmas holiday is technically over, but I'm only in my second stage of this vacation. Patrick has already left to return to Georgia and the job hunt, but Cambrie and I are spending a little longer in Utah (Layton, this time) to spend some time with my mom. It's so wonderful to reconnect with my family! But there are still plenty of games to be had here.

Happy New Year, everyone!

Baking and Battle Plans

In the Carlson household, we are not counting down to this coming Saturday as much as we are Wednesday. T minus two days.

Wednesday morning, bright and early, we will begin our journey to Utah for Christmas. Normally, this would be a time of excitement, anticipation, and getting lost in a good book to the dull roar of an airplane engine. Now I'm worried we're entering a war zone.

So, to take the edge off this post while I describe our battle plans, I'm going to surreptitiously spread a little Christmas cheer by showing some goodies we've enjoyed the past few weeks (baking and feeding people is my solution to boredom).

Here is our challenge: keeping a generally calm but super inquisitive baby happy during a 45 minute drive, a 2 1/2 hour flight, a 1 1/2 hour layover, a three hour flight, then another 45 minute drive. Yes, I've adjusted for time changes.

Whew! That deserves some Pineapple Cake:

Since we'll be in the back seat with Cambrie for the car rides, we're not too concerned with those. She'll be able to walk around a little during the layover, if all goes well, so that shouldn't be too bad. But five and a half hours of plane? Are we really that crazy? She will not want to sit still for that long, and walking around to expend a little energy is not really an option. Cambrie is not cuddly and hardly ever falls asleep in our arms. We don't have a mini DVD player, and we don't even have a cool phone, so keeping her quiet by numbing her brain with screen time won't work either.

So what is our plan?

No, not cookies. Here's what we have in the arsenal:

• A newly put together "Family Book" with photos of all her family members. She loves faces and names, so maybe she'll know all her aunts and uncles by the time we get out there!
• A camera. This might be just as good as a portable DVD player, as long as the batteries don't die.
• New and unhealthy snacks. We're usually mean. I don't think Cambrie has ever had a goldfish cracker; store brand cheerios are cheaper and healthier. But specifically for this trip, we're breaking out the goldfish, sugary fruits, and dum dums (last resort).
• New toys. The Christmas section at Wal-mart had lots of $1 stocking stuffers, including a little wind-up Santa. I'm hoping that'll buy us some happy time.

We also have the basics:

• Extra sets of clothes, diapers, and wipes.
• Her blanket, pacifier, and cat.
• Pencil and paper, favorite storybooks, and baby doll.
• A refusal to care about the grumpy holiday travelers that could be sitting right in front of us.

I'm really terrified of her having a major blowout, me trying to change her in a loud, cramped airplane bathroom, her screaming and writhing because she's uncomfortable and scared, and getting poo all over an already gross public toilet.

*Think happy thoughts of Lemon-Almond Bread*

I just need to tell myself over and over: it has been done before. I'm lucky I have just one child and (at least on the way out), Patrick to help me. It'll be no problem. We'll see. I'll get the whole plane to sing Christmas carols with me if I have to and if it'll keep her happy.

Ending on a cute note: Some of these cookies were for a Christmas cookie exchange. I put a sign up protecting them. I'll have to start putting these signs lower, where Cambrie can read them.

See the cookie in her hand? I had my back turned for two seconds, and this is what she does. I wish she were less cute, so I could scold her, or do whatever it is a mom is supposed to do in this situation.

Be kind to me on the plane, baby girl! I hope you enjoyed your cookie!

A Mom Blog Worth Reading

For almost two years now I've been frequenting a site called Babycenter--it started when I was pregnant with Cambrie, and it has continued until now. Of course, I'm more likely to be spying on the community and blogs now than checking whether Cambrie has reached her milestones (it's funny how quickly I changed from obsessive pregnant lady to "She's eating, pooping, and laughing; she's fine.").

What I didn't think would happen during all this anonymous browsing (I never created a profile and hardly ever commented while on the site) was find an author that I truly, genuinely enjoyed. Betsy Shaw is a mom blogger from Vermont currently living in France with her husband and two daughters. Her writing is clear, clean-cut, poetic and beautifully simple. I feel like I've found a kindred mind in the way she views her daughters, motherhood, the world; we may be different people looking out on different lives (and I know I certainly don't write like her), but I think we see things through similarly tinted windows.

I've enjoyed her writing enough that I now read her personal blog, too. As I've had more time to read and get back into writing, I've been inspired by her posts. Here are some recent posts I've liked:

Driving Miss Crazy

Helicopter Ballet Mom

A Real-life Advent Calendar

I wanted to share this with everyone because I know how refreshing it is to be able to get away from the day-to-day, even for five minutes to read a little. And I happen to think that, for those five minutes, Besty's posts are often worth reading.

Does anybody else have any favorite mom-bloggers?

Anywhere But Here

This morning Cambrie woke up early and cranky. She was hungry, so I nursed her. She thanked me with whine whine whine. She was still hungry, so we walked her upstairs and got her oatmeal. Whine whine whine. She was still hungry (technically a good sign, since she's getting over a little sickness) so I fed her every other bite of my cereal. Whine whine whine. Patrick and I were exhausted, rumpled, blurry-eyed excuses for living human beings. And we were growing crankier by the second. Whine whine whine. (That was us, that time.)

By the time we got back downstairs, Cambrie was in a little better mood, but we were not. I dreaded the next five hours that I had to keep the little one occupied and happy, and Patrick was so tired and grumpy, it was all he could do to keep from crawling back into bed (which would have made this mommy even crankier than she already was).

It was at this precarious point that I knew something had to change.

"Patrick, let's all go somewhere."

"Where?"

"Anywhere."

Half an hour later we set our baby loose in a supermarket.

Okay, not really all the way loose, but we did let her lead the way.

She found the toys with buttons that make noise. All in one aisle. All on the bottom few shelves. Apparently, we're some of those parents, because we just watched as she pushed button after button, until she found eight singing Elmo's in a row.

Patrick found his inner little kid.

Cambrie found her inner fashionista.


And we even hopped by Petsmart to see the fishandcatsanddogsandlizardsandmiceandbirdsandgerbils.

On the ride home, we were all in a much better mood. And we walked in the door to Christmas music and Grandma making bread.

Soon there will be warm, fresh, bread; Patrick and I are awake, content, and ready to face the day; and Cambrie is asleep. Here's to happy endings. *clinking of glasses that are half full*

Life is So Good

For Cambrie, that is. Not that Patrick and I aren't doing just fine, but I am simply amazed at how good our baby girl has it right now. Since she started walking on her own shortly after we moved to Georgia, this has truly been a time of adventure and discovery for her. She owns this world. Everything is fantastic. Everything is hilarious, full of joy, full of wonder.

About a week ago I peeked into the living room where she was playing. (She had been quiet for a while, and that is always suspicious). I saw her waving her arms in the air a little frantically. She does weird dance moves like this from time to time, so I didn't think anything of it, but when she turned and saw me, she immediately started jabbering excitedly, then waved her arms in the same spot again. It took a while for me to realize that she was trying to catch the dust particles floating in a shaft of light. Does anyone else remember how magical those shafts of light were when you were little? (And please, don't tell me you think they're gross; you've been breathing that air your entire life, and you're just fine.) And there she was, watching the small eddies of dust swirl and churn as her hands passed through them.

She's speaking in sentences of garble, with tone and inflection and a few real words. She's learning that by speaking, we better understand what she wants. Unfortunately, she's also learning that sometimes, no matter how hard she tries to speak to us (or how hard we try to understand), we just don't know what she's saying. How hard, and how sad! Fortunately, she's very patient as we learn her language.

Even when she's not learning or experiencing something new, her world is full of joy.

(Water water everywhere...)

(Two pacifiers at once: Pure Bliss.)

So here's to my little bundle of rapidly expanding neurons and exuberantly blown kisses. I love you, baby girl. Thank you for reminding me of the good things all around me.

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas

Patrick and I have made a deal. Since he worked at a gas station to get himself through school and listened to non-stop Christmas music from November through January, he has a no-tolerance policy regarding Christmas music before Thanksgiving. He actually wanted to extend the ban all the way until December, but I put my foot down; growing up, the day after Thanksgiving was the day we put up all the Christmas decorations. You cannot do that without listening to Nat King Cole, the "A Charlie Brown Christmas" soundtrack, and selections from the Nutcracker. So our deal was NO Christmas music until December, EXCEPT for the day after Thanksgiving. Sounds good to me!

So what did we accomplish? First of all, we set up our little two foot Christmas tree (now 10 inches shorter than Cambrie). It cost us four dollars total. Best investment ever! Every year we add one thing to our Christmas decoration collection, and after a few years of that, we've got a cute little tree!

Here's a close-up, including one of the pretty ornaments Patrick got me as a stocking stuffer last year.

The new Christmas decoration we got this year had to take into account our financial situation (aka unemployed), so we found something for $2.50:

A garland! Right now it's plain, without fancy bows or blinking lights, but I was excited to use it, so now it's a modest but cheery addition to "our" stairwell. (We live in the basement.) We also managed to hang our wreath. Patrick devised a hook for it out of a wire hanger and an over-the-door towel hook. Again, not the highest class, but I like it. I know it sounds strange, but it's fun being in this new-family-dirt-poor part of life. What new cheap or free solution will we come up with next?

Cambrie helped a lot, mostly by dancing to the Christmas music (who knew the Nutcracker was as dance-worthy to a 16 month old as Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer?) and reminding us to keep everything out of her ever-extending reach.

She also helped me write a message out of little beaded garlands:

Merry beginning-of-the-Christmas-Season!

On Camping and Loving It

Patrick has left Cambrie and me for a grand adventure for a few days. He's been packing and planning and preparing, mixing trail mix, sharpening knives, and now he's off, with all he needs for survival strapped to his back. That's right. He's gone camping.

Really this isn't a huge camping trip at all. The Boy Scouts ages 14 and older are heading up to some campground... Pine Mountain, I think?... for a day and a half camping and hiking trip. Patrick is one of the assistant leaders for the 14 and 15 year olds. But from the day he found out about it (two days ago), Patrick has been like a little kid--he couldn't wait to head out this morning.

Patrick's life for the past two months has been job searching, and there have been few, if any, tangible results. This opportunity to retreat to the great outdoors without stressing over his employment status was a welcome one, but that's not the best part. I love watching him get so excited about something he loves. When we first started dating, I remember a conversation we had about what we were passionate about. Here's my problem--I am so ridiculously passionate about so many things (piano, jazz music, great literature, beautifully made things, new places and cultures, poetry done well, cooking or baking something delicious, etc.), that sometimes I feel like I'm positively oozing latent excitement, curiosity, and zeal for the things around me. I think it can sometimes be a little overwhelming. Enter Patrick, who's answer to the "What things are you passionate about?" was more like, "Ummm, well... I mean, I like Brazil [where he served his LDS mission], and I like the outdoors. I guess those would count."

While this might make us sound super-incompatible, believe it or not, we're not. (Thank goodness.) I've decided that the difference lies here: I am a very wordy person. Thoughts, feelings, passions, everything could launch me into a deep discussion about the intricacies and convolutions of everything we're discussing. Words are very much a part of who I am. Not so, with Patrick. He really likes discussing things, but he doesn't feel the need to justify every decision (like why he's decided to wear one shirt over another) via a five paragraph essay. Words aren't the medium he lives and moves in. Things are simpler and more clear-cut for him. No unnecessary complications. Is this a guy thing?

Whatever it is, it means he may not spew on for hours about how much he likes this thing or that, but when I see him rolling up his half-shelter, and he starts explaining to me how he hopes he can find trees to hold it up, but he's bringing poles in case he needs them, or he starts thinking out loud what he's going to bring for dinner, or he mentions how he wants to find time to camp by himself for a week on his Granddaddy's extensive land, I can tell how much he loves it. I guess being passionate about something doesn't require an exposition on why, exactly, you find it worth loving. Maybe you just need to continue to actively find joy in it. That makes sense to me.

Peanut Butter Heaven

I've always loved to cook and bake, so with my newly discovered free time, I'm taking every opportunity to explore new recipes and try new things. My most recent culinary escapade stole four hours of my life from me. It was a Peanut Butter pie, and let me tell you--I hate making pie crusts. I've sworn to Patrick that, in the future, when I don't feel guilty spending money on something I can make myself, I will buy a pre-made pie crust every time.

I'm not so financially lucky this time. By the time I finished my Peanut Butter Pie, I was certain nothing could be worth that much effort. (It was made with a custard-like cream, so even aside from the crusts it was a long process. I took no shortcuts.) I put it in the fridge to chill, glad to have tried something new, but glad the whole process was over.

I had no idea what I had coming.

See the layers? Inspiration from above. Peanut butter crumble underneath and on top, light, sweet, creamy filling in between.

I would pay serious money to eat a slice of this pie in a nice restaurant. It worries me that there are two whole pies of it sitting in the fridge; left unchecked, I will eat them both. I have only one word: Mmmmmmm. Actually, it's more like: Mmmmmmmmm!!!! (Four, yes, four exclamation marks.) Now, if anyone reading this actually lived in my state, I would share. See how convenient that is?

Convenient, and a little depressing to be so far from everyone. I think I need some pie to cheer me up...

So Much Time...

Since a lot of people have been asking how I like being a stay at home mom rather than working full-time, I decided that now would be a good time to make a little list of the opportunities we’ve all had since making our big leap to the deep South.

Things I’ve been able to do that I wouldn’t have had time to do in Virginia:

• Learn to French braid my own hair.
• Join a choir for my church that’s doing a special oratorio—and become back-up accompanist.
• Read. Like a TON.
• Watch TV. Biggest time waster of my life, and it’s back to haunt me. Curse you, cable!
• Play with Cambrie. I wish I found climbing up and down from rocking chairs as entertaining as she does, but it’s pretty fun watching/helping her.
• Cook and bake like crazy.
• Make a Halloween costume for Cambrie.
• Go to cool things like Time Out For Women.
• Really get to know Patrick’s family.
• Remember how beautiful the trees and leaves are with the sunshine filtering through them.

Things Patrick’s been able to do that he wouldn’t have had time to do in Virginia:

• Search for a job full-time.
• Go on a scout camp-out with his little brother.
• Get his hands dirty by helping out around his grandparents’ house (creating a compost pile, helping refinish a table and a small rocking chair, leaf-blowing, putting a brick border around the flower garden, etc.)
• Take me to the Georgia National Fair (he HAD to show me that it was way more awesome than any other fair I’d been to. Alright, Patrick, you win. It was pretty fun.)
• Finally make his favorite Brazilian dinner—Chicken Stroganoff with Passion Fruit Mousse as dessert.
• Be motivated by people like Colin Powell, Zig Zigler, and Lou Holtz.

Things Cambrie’s been able to do that she wouldn’t have been able to do in Virginia:

• Walk around in the woods almost every day.
• Spend lots of time with cousins.
• Discover her hero, Patrick’s seven year old cousin, Keith. She follows that kid everywhere!
• Grow enough hair to make a barely visible ponytail on the top of her head. Okay, maybe it’s not Georgia that’s making her do that, but I guess we’ll never know for sure, will we?

Do you see the tiny ponytail? It's there!!

My Little Monkey

Well, here it is: my requisite Halloween post. Due to our tight budget and my new slew of free time, I got to make Cambrie's costume, mostly by adding to a little bodysuit she already had. We debated for a long time what she should be, but in the end, we decided on a monkey. Why? Because every time we saw a little chimpanzee or monkey in the zoo or on TV, we thought of Cambrie. I'm serious! And it wasn't just an "Awwww! Cute! We call her a monkey, and there is a monkey!" The way the monkeys moved, looked at things, stood, etc. reminded us of her. So monkey she became. I spent about $3 on fabric, then made a tail (with a coat hanger inside), a little pocket to hold a banana, and ears.



Sorry for the closed eyes. She was warm and cozy and ready to go stare at all the crazy older kids at the "Trunk or Treat" at the church building. We got chili and cornbread, but we couldn't even stay for the actual "Trunk or Treat"-ing, because by then it was already about an hour past Cambrie's bedtime. And who needs candy, right? Right?

Okay, so maybe Patrick and I broke open one of the bags of mini Reese's Peanut Butter cups that we didn't pass out and celebrated on our own with a little Office that night. But Cambrie never has to know. *conspiratorial wink* Right? Right?

Pre-Pre-School Physics

One of the most exciting things about having a little baby is that I get to observe this little creature figure out life completely from scratch. I remember several months ago when Cambrie was just learning how to stand while holding onto something else. It was such a thrill of delight when I first saw her Balance herself by shifting her weight one direction when she was tipping in the other. How amazing! How did she figure that out? I didn't teach her or model it for her. I wasn't encouraging her, anxious to check it off her "latest accomplishments" list. I didn't sing a little song about shifting weight on your feet our counterbalancing or anything like I sing the ABCs. My baby was just a genius. :-)

Today I had that moment again. Cambrie is much more mobile now, and is adept at clambering all over things. She only needs to watch someone do something like open a drawer, take a damp sock from the washer and put it in the dryer, or even open a box of Cheerios and take a handful of little O's out before she's trying the same thing, and usually succeeding. But what she did this morning was just as inconspicuous and overrated as her balancing act months ago.

There is a cupboard with two doors underneath our TV downstairs. She's tried to open them several times, but they stick a little and they're hard to open for her. Patrick and I don't use them much, so she hasn't had much reason to investigate further. However, this morning, she tried to open them again. She pulled on the left door handle with her left hand. The door didn't budge. She pulled again. Still nothing. Finally, she brings up her right hand, braces it against the right cupboard door, and with this additional leverage, she pulls again. Voilà! It opens, and now I have to go save several old video tapes from being dumped out of their paper cases.

Yet again, where did she learn to gain that extra leverage? I wish I could pick up on fundamental physics that quickly! Still, it does seem a little pathetic; I feel like I should get a "My kid is a genius" bumper sticker because my daughter opened a cupboard door. *shrug* I guess it's okay to be proud as long as I don't get carried away, right?

[note to self: do not ridicule future Carlson babies if they don't learn the leverage trick until 15.5 months.]

Okay, I'm off to replace the contents of my purse that Cambrie has been rearranging all over the basement floor. I'll also post an unrelated picture just for fun. Au revoir!

Why My Blog is Cooler Than Your T-Shirt

So here we go. After years of watching friends and family embark on this crazy journey called "blogging," I've finally decided to bring this small Carlson family into the 21st century and begin sharing completely random and irrelevant information bits with the cosmos. I figure, since we're being bombarded with information everywhere we look anyways, we might as well bombard back, right? The best defense is a good offense, and all that jazz... right?...

Overused sports quips aside, the truth is that every time I thought about starting a blog before, I thought of that t-shirt I've seen (and my dad has so graciously reminded me of) that declares: "More people have read my t-shirt than have read your blog." Okay, okay, I get it. At the end of 2009 there were 126 million blogs on the internet (as tracked by BlogPulse). How many of them are 1) regularly read by a decent number of people, or 2) even worth reading? So I want to make it clear to the blog deities that this is a family blog. I do not want to make money here. I do not want to count followers like a teenage girl counting facebook friends. In fact, I want as few strangers reading my posts as possible. Ew. I don't even want to think about all the creeps out there that I don't want reading my blog. (But guess what...I bet a lot of them have read your t-shirt! Haha!)

So what is the goal of my blog? Well, I happen to think Patrick and Cambrie and I have a pretty happy life, and it seems like we get to live through some pretty fun mini-adventures. Granted, they're just peppered in there with our usual, humdrum happenings, but I'd like to be able to record our little stories a little more easily--you know, for posterity. I'd also like our family and friends, with whom I am notoriously bad at keeping in touch, to be able to feel more a part of our lives, even when I forget to pick up the phone and call.

So here I am, typing post number one, the first of (hopefully) a nice collection of Carlson family anecdotes and adventures. I'm excited to see where both this page and our small family end up.