Adventures in Unpacking and Spider Slaying

When we arrive home from vacation we simply unload everything from the car and toss it all in one room. Bags, tents, sleeping bags--they all get tossed into a heap that is difficult to ignore, but we do it. We do it for about two days. The stinking, gritty pile will rest there, undisturbed, until we simply have to deal with it. However, this time, when we do, there is more waiting for us than the mere must of campfire clothes and sandy beach shoes. 

Today my Superman and I attacked the pile of our camping gear. We dug through all the duffel bags and made piles of dirty clothes to be washed. Outside we knocked together sandy shoes and swept off camp chairs. We put remaining diapers, soap, and sunscreen in their rightful places. Then came the swim and towel bags. Little did I know, lingering inside my bright yellow tote, was a creepy, crawly spider. We are talking a big sucker, not just one of those lowly house spiders to be cleared up by the vacuum. It wasn't a monster tarantula either, not by a long shot. Big it was big, and leggy, and freaked the heck out of me. 

I HATE spiders. Most of the time I can manage to kill them myself. I get the willies and a little bit itchy it the thought, but I can stomach it. Sometimes, especially outside, I get very vocal when surprised by the eight legged terrors. More often than not I will make a fool of myself while killing the beasts. I will grimace and look away at the last instant before squishing one in paper towel. I will frantically slap at it with a trusty flip flop and then quickly take the shoe outside to get rid of the offending spider squash on the bottom. However 

this time I was so surprised, so grossed out things proceeded a bit differently. 

 When I first saw it I dropped the bag to the side and my eyes were huge saucers of surprise and terror. I then danced in place for about five seconds silently screeching "ew, ew, ew!" in my mind and wringing my hands. Then I just turned the bag on top of it and did a very psycho version of a Mexican hat dance all over it. Praying it was dead I quickly flipped the bag over and found it, squished but still looking very much like a spider, on the other side. Here I did more in place dancing and hand wringing. My mouth was permanently fixed in the lip curling grimace of being totally grossed out. I finally got Superman to clean it up with toilet paper and chuck it out. 

Our efforts in unpacking revealed a few more, much smaller spiders that Superman graciously smooshed with toilet paper. Everything I picked up or turned over was thoroughly, yet hesitantly examined. Taking no chances after my first encounter, every furr-ball or dust clump met his doom at the swatting end of my flip flop. Yeesh! Needless to say this cleaning up and unpacking sessions did a number on my nerves and tired me right out! Now I'm itchy, jittery, and ready to fumigate the entire house. Get thee hence, spiders! I hate you!

Family Vacation : Bear Lake Recap

You might know that this last week my family spent days on the sandy shores of Bear Lake. It is a time honored family tradition and one of my favorite parts of the entire year, despite our bad luck. I tell you, every year there is something that happens to potentially spoil our fun. Several years ago we were nearly rained out, my brother sleeping in a puddle on the floor of my parents' tent. Just last year Superman and I left our sleeping bags home entirely and there was a fearsome windstorm. So what, you might ask, was the sour luck on this trip? Honestly, the weather was good, the food was good, we had all of our supplies.Victory!!! So what was it? What was our bad luck? It happened on our last night and carried through our drive home. It was a sad, crying boy. 

Our Littleman was a champ for almost the entire vacation. The drive up was, as expected, uncomfortable and a little whiney, but nothing unbearable. He stumbled and fell a lot around camp, caking himself in dust and dirt, but that never kept him down for long. He could spend hours on end sitting on the beach, in the sand, playing with the sand and his toys. Those first nights he got a full rest and so did his mommy and daddy. He ate. He drank a ton of water. He splashed. He was amazing. Then that last night, the day of packing up, and the drive home we were dealing with a mini-terrorist. 

The horrible started around 2 a.m. when he woke up calling for me, getting louder and louder, until I pulled him out of his playpen and into my sleeping bag. I'll tell you this, sleeping with a toddler in a sleeping bag built for one is a nightmare. I was sweaty, I was tangled, I was twisted, and I was getting a mean kink in my neck. Around 4 a.m. I ended up being able to put him back in his bed, but by then I was wide awake for a couple more hours before nodding off. 

Then came the meltdowns. Everything he couldn't have resulted in croc tears and banshee wails. Every trip or tumble was the end of the world. Every moment he was not in Bapa's arms was hellacious and teeth-grinding. I never thought we were going to make it through the morning. We had to get everything cleaned up and out of our campsite before 11 a.m. and with this tottering, weeping kid around no one was getting much done.

The car ride was next--the longest drive I have ever been on, and it was only from camp to the gas station in a town an hour away. Once we filled up I switched with Superman so I could drive and he could try his hand with the howler monkey in the backseat. I had almost completely lost it until I finally tossed another binky into the back seat. "Try this," I nearly hollered, while clenching down on my teeth. "He already has one," came Superman's desperate protest. "Yes, but it might distract him," I responded and changed lanes with a slight jerk. So he handed it over and the crying silenced. YES!!! 

Turns out it was one of his molars coming in. Not my fave, but pretty good considering it was the only dark spot on our family vacation this year. We had so much fun bumming at the lake, making smores, and spending time with family. Despite all of the unlucky, it was another great trip--just like every year before it. 

     

Retreat to the Desert

A family tradition we simply must uphold is an annual retreat to the red rock and blue skies of Southern Utah. We have been making the trek since I was in junior high and every year I come to love the depth of this desert even more. This beautiful earth is truly astounding and particularly the beauty of this area in the southern part of my home state. It eases the turmoil in my soul. The quiet, the heat, the dry air--all of it withers the monsters in my mind and fills me with happy light and warmth from the crown of my head to my tipy-toes.

Usually my family will migrate south for Spring Break, but since my brother, the youngest, is now a big boy and attending university we are no longer on anyone's timetable. We go when it is most convenient for all of us, or at least the majority, to go. This year it just happened to be this last week, during General Conference. Spence and I caravaned with my parents and sister, leaving bright and early on Thursday morning. Later that same day my brother made the drive bringing along my cousin and her husband. We all met up with my aunt and uncles and cousins who had arrived in St. George on Wednesday. It was much like a family reunion and the perfect vacation from the realities of our life.

We spent so much time in the warm, beating sun that reflected off the face of the rusty mountain cliffs. We lounged by the pool. We trudged through sand and stream. We shopped. We basked in the glory of Swig; I with my avocado bubble tea and Superman with his Dirty Dr. Pepper. It was a retreat to the desert that could not have come at a better time.

Now we are back home, our sunkissed skin and damp swimming suits reminders of the wonderful time we had. I am craving summer sunshine now more than ever. St. George, I hope to see you again soon.

Bear Lake

I love family vacations, especially the traditional ones that happen every year. My family has been visiting Bear Lake for about ten years. This time was Baby Boy's first trip, but I see many more in his future. I hope these future ones he will be able to see with his own eyes, because they are pretty spectacular. Here is just a glimpse of what ours vacations usually looks like.

A new canoe.

Beach.

Blue water.

Blue skies.

Dutch oven dinner.

Campfire.

And a lifejacket that isn't going to buckle no matter how I tug.