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.