Happy Solstice! Merry Christmas! Happy Hannukah! Happy Eid! Merry Kwanza! ( . . .did I forget any?)

We’ve had our Christmas groove going lately – and it’s been good!

I had planned to write this post about the neat events we’ve discovered around Spokane during this season and maybe include pics of a couple of neat craft projects I’ve made for family. When I actually started cataloging things I nearly fell over backward. Holy scheisse! How am I not a total stress ball right now?? I think the key is that I haven’t done a damn thing I didn’t want to. I was determined to simplify the season – emphasize the fun stuff and let go of the rest. I couldn’t be happier with the results. So here’s what we’ve had fun doing:

One Friday, CT and I played hookie from school and work (we were sick, cough cough) and made our way downtown for some fun. First we stopped by the Davenport to check out all the decorated Christmas trees and sip hot chocolate in the posh lobby. Afterward, we ran through the 13 F weather next door to the Bing Crosby theatre to watch a noon performance of Holiday Inn. My parents and I have had a long-standing tradition of watching Holiday Inn  and White Christmas every Christmas eve. Watching it on the big screen with my girl on my lap was really fun. And she liked it! I still can’t figure out how or why CT enjoys black and white films so much, but I can’t say I’m complaining.

The next weekend, while I was busy with CPR/First aid training, CT and her Dad headed to the Davenport for a gingerbread making workshop. Professional chefs competed against each other to make the best gingerbread houses while the Towhead worked on making the best graham cracker “gingerbread” house.  The results, both amateur and professional, were fantastic! The chefs even created a gingerbread pirate ship with hidden items that the kids had to find  – it was a dessert, a game, and a work of art all in one!  Afterward they headed to the carousel and Radio Flyer slide in Riverfront Park. The story of the day though – the one I had to listen to intently as soon as I got home – was about how CT lost her mitten. You see, outside the carousel is a metal statue of a goat. When you hit a button on the rock wall to the side a vacuum turns on inside the goat. The idea is that you can feed the goat the leaves littering the ground; free entertainment for the kids, free grounds cleanup for the city. I think it’s a wonderful concept. Except that the goat does not discriminate. Like any healthy goat he will eat anything you stick in front of his mouth. Including mittens. CT found this out the hard way. Luckily, one of the carousel staff was able to extract the mitten from the goat’s innards.

The next event of the season was CT’s preschool Christmas program last Thursday. It was a short half-hour deal where the kids got up on stage and sang. You can tell the kids have been working hard on this for awhile. CT has come home singing all sorts of songs over the last few weeks. And their practice paid off – they did awesome! You can’t help but smile with that many dressed up cuties singing “This Little Light of Mine (I’m gonna let it shine).” I had a silly-stupid grin on my face the whole time. My hat truly goes off to her teachers though. Thirty kids onstage for 10-15 minutes. No one cried and almost every kid actually sang. Now that’s an accomplishment!

The craft-making tally is what has me truly flabbergasted. I’ve had so much fun I don’t think I realized how much I’ve actually done over the last month. I, or CT and I, have managed to produce the following:

• 1 fairy
• 6 bean bags with a laminated list of games
• 2 hats
• 10 pints apple butter
• 3 quarts of applesauce
• 2 apple pies (happily waiting in the freezer to be cooked later)
• 3 pints pumpkin butter
• 1 pint cherry butter
• a bagful of dried apples
• necklaces for CT’s cousins
• books for CT’s grandparents
• a tray with CT’s art modgepodged onto it for the grandparents

The irony, which I’m kicking myself for now, if that we have so few pictures of all of this. Maybe that’s why I’m not stressed – I haven’t worried about documenting any of it. We’ had fun and didn’t worry about how it was turning out or whether we had “captured” the moment. Smiles, giggles, skipping down the street, or dancing through the house were enough. Those images burn brightly right now. I hope the memories don’t fade.

Merry Christmas everyone!

You know you’re an English major when . . .

your almost-4-yr-old uses the words “opportunity,” “required,” and “glimpse” at the dinner table all in one night and knows what each of those words mean.

Look out world! You don’t stand a chance against this one!

How to go bald by age 4

Fine hair has its blessings, and curses. I’ve learned to deal with the peculiarites of fine, thin hair that doesn’t grow very fast. The Towhead has my coloring to a tee, and although she got my fine hair, thanks to her dad she has quite a bit more of it. I’ll be the first to admit that it’s very convenient we can use the same clips and rubber bands, but it does feel a bit pathetic in its own way.

I’m not sure if it’s a kid thing or perhaps Fate’s way of punishing me for being proud that I produced a kid with a decent head of hair, but I realized the other night that we’ve had more than our share of hair mishaps this year. I think it all started when she got sap in her hair on a camping trip . . .

The answer: olive oil. Situation was not nearly as sticky as it sounds.

Then there was the incident around Labor Day when she decided to crawl under her art table and create some new bangs for herself after we’d spent the last year growing them out. Luckily, it was not the scalping that many kids give themselves. Just a few strands near her face that went from chin-length to being about even with her nose. Again, not as big a deal as it sounds.

Now we come to the last two weeks (drumroll, please). At a co-workers retirement party she managed to do this:

Yep. Burrs. Hundreds of them. Right up next to her scalp. The next hour was a fun one. My thanks to the other people there who helped us get them all out. The upside is that they did all slide out – no cutting or olive oil required.

But the most recent was by far the worst. What could be worse than sap, worse than scissors and cockleburrs? I must painfully admit that it happened at the grocery store when I wasn’t paying attention. There was a small fan on the end of an M&M Christmas candy tube. You see, the Towhead loves LOVES loves M&Ms (thanks to her Papa). And I mean passed-up-a-cool-doll-so-she-could-get-a-small-package-of-M&Ms loves them. Would-refuse-her-mama’s-out-of-the-oven-cookies loves them. So when we saw a tube of M&Ms in the store with a cool little fan on top I told her we were NOT taking it home but that she could hold it while we were in the store. She was fine, and very well behaved, for a bit. But when I turned my back to grab some rice off the shelf I find her holding a huge chunk of her hair, saying, “Mama, sorry, but . . .”

“What happened?” I asked, wide-eyed. “Did you stick the fan in your hair?”

“No. It just got stuck.”

The worst was not the cut hair though. It was the area above that that had spun itself into small, tight little knots. I laughed. The look I got from her was one one of confusion, like she couldn’t tell whether I was ok with it or I had lost my mind.

Eventually she laughed with me as I untangled her knots and made her answer the question over and over, “What did we learn today?”

“Don’t stick a fan in your hair!”

There be treasure there, matey

The Crazy Towhead has been enamored of pirates and maps for quite some time. Any proof you need can be found in her Halloween costume two years ago, her insane love of the books How I Became a Pirate and Pirates Don’t Change Diapers, and the box she keeps filled with a map (of France), a compass, and a magnifying glass.

We recently rented Disney’s Peter Pan, and this seemed to ignite her adventurous spirit and take her back to the days when we taught her how to put a hand over one eye and growl,  “Arg! I’m a pirate!” It all started thus:

I was working on the computer at the kitchen table. She was drawing pictures on her easel. Lines turn into shapes; shapes resemble letters; and soon she was calling to me. “Mama, look! A “D.” And a’ “X.”

“Yup,” I said. “X marks the spot.”

“I need to draw a map,” she said. “With an X on it. For the pirates.”

“Are we burying treasure?” I ask.

“And for Caleb. He needs it to find his skunk.”

“Oh?”

Well one thing led to another. I got excited (I love treasure hunts). We found a plastic sheet that came with a set of jungle animal toys. We discussed the journey, how treasure maps work, what obstacles the seekers might face, and what the treasure might be.

The consensus was that the seekers had to go along the mountain tops, past the bear cave, and onto the plains. Once there they had to split up by gender: girls go north where they must find and put on a pink dress with blue tights. Boys head west, where they must don a purple coat and two rings if they want to proceed. They meet up and journey on until they find the box of stickers, which will detail how to navigate the swamp of snakes and worms.

At the Shark lagoon . . . well, there’s a whole story about what happens in the shark lagoon, but I’m not sure I remember enough to give you all the details. Anyway, the treasure, which used to be in the shark lagoon has since drifted up onto the plains. And that’s where the treasure lies!

On the back of the map CT titled the map, and we wrote our names in code. The map has mostly been shoved in this or that purse since then, just waiting for the moment when the adventurous spirit strikes us again and we wander into the mountains to find that treasure.

Wholesome holidays scare me, so Happy Halloween!

For some reason I’ve started taking a self-portrait every year on my birthday. It feels self-centered in some ways, but I’m curious to keep a log and see how I change. I got to thinking about it when I started taking pictures of the Towhead’s hand next to mine each year on her birthday. This is what resulted this year.

We had a fantastic Halloween weekend. It was supposed to rain, but it never did. It felt like a very “wholesome” holiday(the sound of which scares the crap out of me). I made a similar comment to my neighbor, his response was, “Welcome to Washington.”  But we had so much fun! Mr. A woke up and finished packaging up the venison he got last week. I worked on processing more of the huge mound of apples that are sitting in the garage. After breakfast (Mr. A made srambled egg burritos), the Towhead and I went out onto the front porch to carve pumpkins. She picked out the design. I carved. She decorated by poking it with one of the carving tools and drawing on it with the pen.

In the picture you’ll see the lovely, incredibly colorful hat that I just finished knitting. CT has been bugging me to make her a hat since I finished knitting one for her dad. I let her pick out the yarn. And of course she picked out the most obnoxious  colorful skein available! I tried to downplay the insane color combination make it even better by adding some red stripes and a border. Go figure, my wonderful, fashionable daughter did alright because what came out of the project is beautiful! Colorful, warm, and very appropriate for fall. She has barely taken it off since I handed it to her.

It was supposed to rain on Halloween. When it didn’t we grabbed the chance and went to the park to play. CT chased her dad all over the playground, slides, and tunnels. Lately, Mr. A has been getting pouty about the fact the CT always seems to want “mama.” Like all dads he wants the satisfaction of being the “one” his baby wants. I think all moms know the joy (and frustration) that comes with being the only one who can make it better. Towhead loves her dad, but she’s definitely a mama’s girl. This weekend it was all about dad – and that was just fine with me. It was really fun to watch too. They are so good and so funny with each other. Mr. A has always been the other half of me – and when it comes to the girl he teaches her all the things that I seem to struggle with.

Sunday, when it didn’t rain again, we all went out in the yard to clean up leaves. We created a box of welded wire we can compost the leaves in. Of course Towhead wanted to get in with the leaves – what kid wouldn’t want to jump, play, and roll in a huge pile of leaves? And of course she didn’t want to get out either. After all the stubborn back talk I’ve been getting lately I think sticking her in a pen with some leaves is a fantastic idea! She seemed a little cold when we checked on her this morning, but otherwise she’s doing just fine. Mr. A is thinking we should get some chickens so she’ll have some company.

Headline: Girl’s heart devastated by tree

BY Cedar deArbol, Staff Writer

A tree was felled today, and it broke a little girl’s heart.

The girl blames her mother for making the decision and her father for wielding the chainsaw. The parents blame the poor landscaping decisions of previous owners.

“It’s mother nature,” claimed the girl in her teary argument. “You don’t cut down mother nature.”

Though ardent conservationists and environmentalists, the girl’s parents are baffled. “We’ve always made it clear when we go to get firewood that we only take dead or downed wood. But this is not something we’ve ever said to her,” says the father.

“We want her to learn respect for the natural world, but we’ve left out a lot of that other stuff. She needs to learn to love the world, not worry about its destruction just yet. She’ll learn a lot of that rhetoric later, probably from us. But it has no place in the life of small child,” adds mom.

The culprit turned out to be the girl’s preschool teacher.  Other parents have even commented, “I came in with a plucked flower one morning and a small boy came up and started yelling at me that that was mother nature and I shouldn’t do that.”

In order to prevent the entire class from picking all of the flowers off a bush that stands next to the path to the playground, the teachers have impresed upon the children that the flowers are part of mother nature and need to be left for other people to enjoy.

The tree, a northern white cedar, was chopped down while the little girl was napping. Even though it provided little to no shade for the house it stood next too, the girl was heart-broken to find it missing when she awoke.

The girl’s mother is disturbed because she could come up with no good arguments to counter her daughter’s request not to cut the tree down, except for the parents joint decision to widen the existing stairway leading from the deck to the yard.

The father is convinced that his daughter will never forgive him for dealing the death blow to her favorite tree. He says he is awaiting the bill from her therapist.

My daddy is Bat-man

Towhead is not a normal kid. How could she be with parents such as us? She is bombarded with useless details about politics and local wildlife, cooking and physical science. Yet she is so much a stereotypical three and a half year old that, if asked what her favorite animal is she’ll respond with a fervent, “Snakes! But only pink ones.”

Sometimes I try to put myself in her shoes . . . a restrictive and dangerous proposition. But I do wonder what it would be like, as a kid, to have mom respond to the question “Where’s daddy?” with “Playing with bats,” “Chasing birds,” or “Getting a deer out of someone’s basement.” And I imagine I would respond the same way she does. “Can I see?”

I think bats are fascinating. First of all there’s echolocation – how cool is naturally-developed sonar! They eat insane amounts of night-flying insects like moths, beetles, mosquitoes, termites, and flies – also very cool.

Spokane County Parks and Rec does an annual class on Bats of the Inland Northwest. It involves a 20-minute lecture on bats and bat ecology followed by a trip down into a canyon where biologists from BLM (Bureau of Land Mgmt) and WDFW (WA Dept of Fish and Wildlife) capture bats in mist nets and harp traps, and then bring them down the canyon where people from the class can watch them being processed (ie mesured, weighed, etc) and released. Mr. A helped out last year, after getting his rabies vaccine of course. (I teased him no end about getting rabies shots. How can you resist an opportunity like that?)

Mr. A was asked to help again this year, so when the opportunity came up for me and Towhead to register for the class and check it out Mr. A and I figured  Towhead is old enough to stay up that late and has shown some interest in bats, so why not?

First came the 20-minute “class” on bat ecology. What I got out of it:

• Bats are the only flying mammal.
• They make up 25% of the mammalian species on earth. With ~4260 species of mammals of earth this means that in the mammalian version of the United Nations (United Mammals?) we get 1 vote, bats get 1065.
• Some bats can live up to 30 years.
• A very small percentage of bats are infected with rabies but there are still certain safety precautions you should take, and certain behaviors to watch for to identify a bat that is infected (see this handout for details).
• Bats often capture insects when flying by scooping them into their tail or wing membranes, and then putting the insects into their mouth. This results in the erratic flight most people are familiar with when they watch bats feeding in the evening.
• Large quantities of bats on the east coast are being wiped out by White-nosed syndrome, a fungus that infects winter hibernacula (an area where bats hibernate) and kills entire colonies.

What Towhead got out of it:

• Bats do neat things and are not as scary as they look.

The next three hours involved watching a biologist from BLM handle bats right under our noses.

Glide, paddle, kick, and . . .

 . . . Swim!

Yep, folks. You guessed it. After a couple parent/child classes last spring, and a winter spent playing around in the YMCA pool, she was ready. Ready for what you ask? Ready for her first on-her-own-with-a teacher-and-no-mama swim lessons! I knew she was ready based on her comfort in the pool, but even I had no idea how ready she was. By the end of the first lesson she was holding her breath and retrieving things off the bottom of the pool in the shallow end!

I didn’t have extememly high hopes for a lot of progress though since we were only going to be in town for the first week of the two-week class. But we knew it would be enough to remind her of what she knew already and prepare her for being in Grandma and Grandpa’s pool over the 4th of July holiday. Teach me to underestimate my daughter or the power of peer pressure. You see, Towhead’s cousin, Ra-ra, is a pretty competent swimmer even though she’s only a few months older. Well, it seems that a week of lessons and a week of playing with her cousin did the trick because when we went to the Y again this week . . .

drum roll please

She. Can. Swim.

Underwater. By herself. Kicking super fast like a little fish. Pulling with her arms a little.

If it’s not clear already, I’m amazed. She’s not a pro yet of course. But I can let her go, 5 feet from the edge of the pool and she will swim to the side and climb right out.  Can you see me bursting with pride over my little fish? And she’s so happy with her new-found skill I can barely keep her above water in the kid’s section of the pool. She belly-splats, swims. Stands up, gasps in a breath, splats again and off she goes. Periodically I want to hold her above water for a minute or so and say “Breathe child!”

I’m flabbergasted. Our swim sessions over the winter were more to combat boredom and keep her comfortable in the water, not to really teach her anything, though I did try to get her to “kick and paddle” in my arms whenever possible. I’m just flabbergasted. It seems like so much progress in two weeks after a winter of the same ol’ stuff. Seem unbelievable? Believe it people, my girl can swim!

And if you’re wondering where we’ll be this afternoon, take one guess. (She’s been asking and pestering me all week.)

 At the pool!

I Must Know It ALL Now: or, Why? Who? What? Where? How? When?

I have anticipated this moment for years. Daydreamed about the smart, balanced and witty responses I would give when my girl got to this age. How we would sit together in front of the computer and look up answers to all those elusive questions, like “Do sharks have ears?” (We looked that one up last night). The science experiments we would perform in the kitchen to discover what happens when you mix yellow and blue, or you stick a magnet in water. Kids should ask questions, and I want(ed) to give her the honest, thought-provoking answers her little mind wants, needs, and deserves. (You’d think after 3 years I’d have lost that idealist tendency.)

I’ve also dreaded the constant flow of questions. You know, the 15 that come flooding out of her mouth before I’ve had breakfast (idealist tendencies fade drastically at 6am). Especially the ones that repeat and have no purpose – “Mom, why didn’t you let me wear a dress at school pictures?” As with all aspects of life, there can be too much of a good thing. I love her curiosity. I love that she’s  stubborn,  opinionated, and feisty as well as being gentle, loving, and helpful. That is, I love it in the right mixture. When all I get is the first three along with a lot of questions and demands I get, as my girl says, “cranky.”

The other day was the perfect example of why I love and hate this phase.

Towhead and I were leaving swim lessons when Mr. A called. We were both tired and decided to splurge for the first time in over a month and go out to eat. After getting in the car, I told Towhead we were off to meet Dad for Mexican food.

“What that sticking out of that car?” she asked. Huh? Subject change. OK.

“That? That’s a tailpipe sweetie.” I shut the door and get in the car.

“But why is it there?” she continues.

“It lets out all the bad smoke from the engine.”

“Why?”

“Because otherwise the car would blow up.”

“But that car doesn’t have one,” she points out as we drive through the parking lot.

“Yes it does.”

“No it doesn’t.”

“Yes. It does. All cars have them. You may not be able to see it because it’s hiding under the bumper, but it’s there.”

“No it’s not.”

“Sure it is. I’ll show you when we get to the restaurant. There look at the car next to us. See that pipe sticking out the side. Right next to you. That’s it’s tailpipe.”

“Oh. But our car doesn’t have one.”

“Yes. It does,” I say trying not to grit my teeth. “Want me to show you when we get to the restaurant?”

“Sure. Can I have chicken fingers?”

“I’m not sure they have chicken fingers. But we’ll check on the menu and see what they’ve got. Maybe rice and beans.”

“What’s a menu?”

“The thing that lists all the food you can get at the restaurant.”

“Mama, there’s my moon!”

“Yup.”

“It’s a half-circle. How come it’s not a circle?”

I launched into the hole schpeel about how the sun and earth move and that changes how much of the moon you can see. It’s always a circle you just can’t always see it all. I should mention that I’ve given this speech at least 5 or 6 times already. Also, keep in mind that this was only the first two minutes of a 5-minute long car ride. Questions continued rapid-fire and in totally random order. And even after that I spent a minute or two in the parking lot proving to her that yes, each car has a tailpipe but that they’re sometimes in different locations on the car.

I”m not sure how long I can keep it up. The good news is that I prepared for some of this years ago when I bought the Handy Science Answer Book. That and the web make answering random questions a lot easier. I just don’t think I was anticipating that all those questions would come at me in such a rapid fire fashion. Or that she would argue with me about the answers I give her!! I shouldn’t say anything (insert my mom’s laughter here) because I know I did the same thing to my mother. She’s learning and right now her own experience, limited though it may be, is as powerful as anything I say. Damn her for being as stubborn and feisty as her mother!

Mr. A, being the youngest of three, has a great sense of humor over things like this. A sadistic sense of humor, but funny nonetheless. I must learn this skill. I get too sucked in and actually try to answer all her questions.  Because I love to teach, I love to see the lightbulbs go on. I realize now that much of that will never change. The world is an amazing place and I want nothing more than to continue to explore it with her, and show her all it has to offer. But I’ve also noticed recently that I’m beginning, in my tired, working mom world to take it too seriously.

No more. The boxing gloves are off and the whoopie cushions are out, baby.

Summer Mania: A Long-winded Update

OK, I’m aware it’s been awhile. Summer is a wonderful and awful thing for me. I love summer – the way plants and grass smell in the evening after soaking up the sun all day, backpacking to alpine lakes, calling up friends for last-minute backyard BBQs, digging my hands in the garden’s soil, and the inordinate amounts of socializing we do with family and friends that we lost track of during the winter months. But what it means is that I don’t really read, knit, or blog much. Which frustrates me because there’s so much going on, and so much to say! Truthfully, I gave up many years ago and realized that summer and fall is my time to do, and winter and spring are my time to think about and reflect on it all.

The short version is that we were on vacation for the first half of July. Mr. A, the stinky Towhead, and I flew down to Orange county to visit family and attend a wedding. In the process we also got to play at the beach, visit with college friends and their families, and Towhead got to go to Disneyland for the first time.

Every year Mr. A’s parents throws a huge 4th of July celebration – an average of 40 people show up every year and it has become an unofficial extended family reunion of sorts. The last few years someone has brought a BBQ/smoker, the kind that’s 8-10 feet long and has to be pulled on it’s own trailer. The meat that comes out of that thing is heavenly. If that and the pool are not enough, the other major draw is that their house backs up to a baseball field that adjoins the Seal Beach Naval Weapons Station – and those navy guys know how to put on a hell of a fireworks show! The entire neighborhood shows up to spread out blankets and chairs.  Kids run around waving glow sticks (no more sparklers – party-poopers. What’s 4th of July without someone getting burnt fingers from a sparkler they couldn’t bear to part with?) and grandparents cuddle under blankets to watch the colorful lights explode overhead.

Well, that party got canceled this year for the sake of a wedding. Even though it was a different setting, it was still wonderful to see family and friends. The reception was at the Hotel Maya within sight of the Queen Mary and overlooking Long Beach harbor. It was a lovely day in a gorgeous setting. The wedding was beautiful and very thoughtfully put together – I cannot fault them for that. That said, it is hard to get enthusiastic about a wedding when you don’t even remotely agree with the couple’s vows or their view of what marriage means. Marriage is a partnership – two whole individuals that decide to support and enhance one another through life’s changes. One person often takes the lead in certain situations, but it is understandable – I would say expected – that the lead role can and does change regularly. Marriage is a collaborative, fluid, dynamic process – a symbiotic relationship that creates something bigger than the sum of its parts. I will never understand individuals who glorify subservience in a marriage, and elevate the status of one person (in this case the man) over the other. I remember hearing the word “worship” – and I agree only in the sense that every person is worthy of worship and reverence as a fantastic piece of the biological puzzle. However, on oh so many levels I have issues with a partnership based on the male half (either half really) being lauded as a Christ-like figure that inspires and guides the other in a savior/devotee relationship. Even the benevolent verion of these roles makes me cringe. I firmly believe that although religion can be a part of any marriage, marriage itself has nothing to do with religion. That’s the optional part of the ceremony as far as I’m concerned.

Every feminist bone in my body was boiling in outrage – so I boiled, and took it as a good exercise in self-control.

But I also realized mid-ceremony that I am not required to agree with their vows or view of marriage, because I was not the one getting married. This ceremony needed to be meaningful for them, and I have no doubt that it was, which is wonderful.  In spite of it all I am proud of Mr. A’s cousin, who I’ve watched grow from a gangly 10-year old to a confident, polite man with a positive and respectful attitude toward his new wife. I may not agree with him but I still love him dearly. We may have missed dancing at their wedding, but we did arrive back at my in-laws in time to spread out a blanket and curl up with the kids to see the firework display illuminate the neighborhood.

After a week in southern California, Mr. A and the Towhead flew up to Sacramento to visit the other half of the grandparents. (We figured they were already in California, we might as well make the most of the trip. However, I had to fly back home for work, which sucked. I miss my family.) They had a blast! I know only what I heard over the phone and saw from pictures, but the stories and one-liners that emerged from their five-day trip are hilarious! Most of it consisted of the chaos of ordinary life and tasks – like shopping, doing crafts and playing ball. But that doesn’t mean I couldn’t hear the laughter across several states. The most quotable moment though involves Towhead’s recurring obsession with playing doctor. When examining her “old Nana” (great-grandma) she told her that, “her brain wasn’t working.” I love where we live but boy, do I miss family! Vacations like these are what summer is all about. Summer always reminds me to live, and not take the world too seriously. That is when we’re not busy laughing and playing, and I have a moment to think about it all.