see ya on the slopes

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Today, I took Alex to Winterplace Ski Resort for Scouts on Skis. I was a little surprised that we didn't see any other Scouts from our unit, but had a great time anyway.

Alex took two different ski lessons and buddied up with another Scout (and Scout Mom) to hit the trails.   We also spent some time at the snow tube park, which was great fun.  Alex is already asking when we can go back.  I think we have a skier in the making.

I, on the other hand, did not ski.  I wasn't too eager to bust my butt in front of a few hundred people, so I stuck around the lodge.  Maybe next time.  Maybe.

your wife looks like misery

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This is where I spent my weekend, camping on a farm.  It was cold, but it was beautiful. 

 

It was a great Scouting weekend.  Lots of food, lots of fun, lots of laughter.  A water balloon catapult (in near freezing temperatures!), a course in fire starting, and another in orienteering, all held around a much-needed campfire in the company of friendly Scouts and Scouters.  But, oh my gosh, it was cold.

Scoutmaster K prepared a delicious pot of Texas Ranger Stew for dinner.  He threw in hamburger, tomatoes, corn, rice, onions, and some other stuff.  Heated it all up and served it with bread.  This stuff really hit the spot as the sun was going down.  We sat around the fire, ate, talked, and joked with one another.  But, soon it was time to go to bed.

Here's a quick word of advice:  Always look up before you pitch your tent.  Having neglected to examine the trees surrounding my chosen spot, I place our tent underneath a nearly-dead pine tree.  When the wind picked up after the sun went down, and Mr. Hull and I were tucked into our sleeping bags trying to snooze, the tree began to creak.  I spent most of the night praying that the tree would not fall on us or those in the surrounding tents.  According to my husband, pine branches fall like spears and are often called "widow-makers."  Lesson learned.  Always look up.

I can also tell you, with much accuracy, that coyotes have definitely claimed the area in which we live.  Sometime after Mr. Hull woke with a startled shout around 1 AM (he was so cold he thought he had died and gone to hell), I heard the yips, yaps, and yells begin.  The trio of farm dogs charged across the cow pasture towards the sound of the incoming intruders.  After a bit, things settled down and I was
finally able to sleep.

The next morning dawned after many hours of restless tossing and turning.  Upon seeing my morning face, an old friend told my husband that I looked like "pure misery."  Wow, thanks!  Truth be told, I had an enjoyable weekend.  And, I know that the boys that we were with absolutely did.  This was the first camping trip for some.  To know that I have had a hand in giving some young Scouts a memorable experience that will help them continue along the Scouting Trail and further enable these boys to grow into men of character makes the cold, the fear, and the coyotes all worth it.

Would I do it again?  Absolutely.  Next November?  Nah... I think I'll advocate for June!

What I Did At Summer Camp

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1. Walked a goat.  A real one.  Not my husband.

2. Cracked a geode.  Again, a real one. 
As opposed to a geo code*

3. Got wet.  Really wet.

4. Touched a snake.  Believe me, this was big.

(source)

5. Slept on a metal cot with no pillow in a tent with flaps that didn't tie
all by myself while a real, live, pink-speckled bear wandered
through the campsite. I'll tell you more about the bear later.

(not my picture, I found it somewhere on the internets,
but can't remember where, and doctored it up a bit.)

*what's a geo code?

floatin' with the fairies

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This past weekend, we visited Fairy Stone State Park with some friends.  We've been there before to camp and hunt for fairy stones, but this time we just visited the swimming area at the lake.  We had a great time playing in the sand and water, diving from the dock, and floating around in a pair of paddle boats.  The beach area features a kiddie swimming zone with spray toys and floating platforms, while the dock further out in the lake has a diving board and water slide.  There's a sandy area for digging and sand-castle building, as well as two volleyball nets and a large grassy lawn.  Nearby is a playground for those who get bored in the sand and a boat-rental dock with paddle boats, canoes, rowboats, and something that looks like a water bike.  For a small admission fee, we had a great day and look forward to returning next year.

when will this road end?

hittin' the beach

time to take a ride

katie was a bit timid

view from the water

all smiles

yummies

 

The Bee's Knees

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Katie is a huge fan of bees.  I'm not really sure how this happened.  One day, she came home from my mother's house and could say, "Bee" and "Big Bee" (pronounced "beeeeeg beeeeee").  Alex says that Katie was stung by a sweat bee that day, but I have my doubts as to the origin of her vocabulary.  Unless, of course, Grandma panicked about the bees.


Baby Kate could also have a fascination with bees due to the appearance of a hungry bee in her Peekaboo Baby book.  The famished little bee sticks out his tongue for food while the baby in the book eats with a spoon and says, "Yummy."  Did you know that Katie also likes yummies?


Regardless, during a recent trip to the NC Zoo, we toured their Honeybee Garden.  Both of the children were enthralled by the giant bee and hive, live bee exhibit, and honey-tasting table.  Katie, in particular, ran in circles shouting, "Big Bee, big bee."


At one point, we were playing peed-a-boo around this giant bee hive.  Katie would run in, squeal as I hollered, "Where's Katie?," and peek through a tiny window in the side.  She then popped back around the corner as I feigned surprise.  In the midst of our fun, as I was singing, 

"Where is Katie?

Where could she be?

She was here a moment ago...

Where is Katie?

Where could she be?

We've been looking high and low..."

a snotty-looking woman glanced at me and said, "She's right behind you, I think."  Why thank you, snotty-looking woman.  I had no idea where my not-quite-two-year-old daughter was.  I'm that irresponsible, as to let her completely disappear in a busy attraction.  Furthermore, I'm going to crouch behind a large fake beehive and sing about it.  Yep, that makes complete sense.  Any fool could see I was really in need of assistance there, lady.  You are a genius.

So anyway, up pops Katie and we go about our day, singing and playing and watching out for bees.

Determination

This picture was taken by a wonderful photographer, L. Thomas Bryan. 

Let 'em go... let 'em grow

These pictures were taken at a Webelos Resident Camp that my son and I recently attended.  (No, they are not of my son.) They demonstrate a trend that is manifesting itself in the lives of parents across the country.  Parents are afraid to just let go.  They are afraid to let their children fail.  In the pictures above, Jeremy (not his real name) has been given the opportunity to scale to the top of a climbing tower.  Prior to this, several Scouts had successfully made it to the top.  Then, it was Jeremy's turn.  At first try, he was unable to get his foot on the first peg to propel himself up the wall.  After floundering for a bit, his stepmother jumped in to help.  She tried lifting him, she tried giving him a leg up, she tried everything she could to get the boy to climb the wall.  Sadly, nothing helped.  In the second picture, notice that Jeremy is just hanging there.  His stepmother has stepped away.  Rather than lift him up, as some of the leaders requested, the climbing instructor is letting him hang.  Jeremy is far enough off the ground so that, if he really wanted to, he could get a firm grip and begin to climb.  But, the instructor won't do the work for him.

That's how it should be.  If, as parents, we continually do the hard stuff for our children, how will they ever learn?  How will they grow stronger in their abilities, and more certain in their strengths?  We can't hold their hands forever.  We have to let them either climb or fail.  If not, they will never go anywhere.  So, stop the helicoptering.  Stop giving "one more" leg up.   Stop pushing so hard.  The failures of our children do not belong to us.  Let them flounder a little.  They deserve to grow.

Steppin' Out

Last spring (as in, the spring of '09, as opposed to the spring of '10, which would be this past spring), I had the opportunity to attend Wood Badge, a leadership training course for Boy Scout leaders.  The catch: my husband had already gone, so I would be on my own.  In the deep, dark woods.  Without my family.  yeah.

Also, I would be leaving my 6-month old nursing daughter behind with her father.  I would be the first nursing mother to attend the course.  I would have to have special allowances to pump.  I would need a private room.  The course was scheduled to take place over two weekends, each a month apart.  So many reasons not to go.

I verbally committed, then backed out.  I just couldn't go.  It wasn't my thing.  So, sorry.  I reconsidered.  It was a great opportunity.  Something for me.  I would have a blast.  I really should go.  So, I signed up.  Again, I started to have second thoughts.  In fact, I was even questioning myself as I drove away that first morning.

When I arrived at Camp Powhatan, I was greeted by smiling faces.  Though I was thrown into a group with five other people I'd never met, they were friendly and understanding (for the most part).  We quickly learned that we would be called the Antelope Patrol (snort, snort, snort) We learned, laughed, and played together.  We bonded over plates of camp food and games of skill.  We became accustomed to working together as a unit.  It was a wonderful experience and I looked forward to the second weekend, during which we would be camping out.

There were no second thoughts in regards to returning, though I had never carried my supplies in a pack, while being led on what was touted as a "three mile hike." (Wood Badge miles, you see...)  I had never camped without my husband and family.  While I knew how to pitch a tent, cook over the fire, and generally take care of myself while camping, I had always had my husband to rely on.  He was there to scare away any wild animals and turn out the lantern after I went to bed.

The first night went fairly well, but the second night was a challenge.  Sometime in the middle of the night, I was awakened by a huge clap of thunder.  The woods outside my tent lit up.  Rain came pouring down.  The ground shook with thunder and the sky was alight with lightning.  I scrunched down in my sleeping bag, clutching my mini maglite (smart choice, holding a metal flashlight in a thunderstorm), and praying that we would make it through to morning. We had no other shelter at our immediate disposal.  We had nowhere to go.  The only choice was to stay put and ride it out. 

As the storm subsided and I slowly drifted back to sleep, I couldn't help being a bit proud of myself for weathering the elements on my own.  Though my patrol-mates were in tents just feet away, they were all inaccessible for the duration of the night.  I had camped on my own, in a thunderstorm, and survived.

This post was inspired by Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop, prompt #3, Steppin Outside the Box.