Adventures In Motherhood

Last night I lay on the warm, rock-hard black top driveway of the RV park. The reek, reek, reek of crickets over the babbling, bubbling hot spring creek was meditative. Zipping across the sky, I saw flashes of light belonging to fading stars or comets. I felt like a 10-year-old child watching the curvature of the night sky like a planetarium sprinkled with stars. A meditative moment alone, I pretended I was on a Cancun beach listening to waves crash, minus the comfort of a lounge chair. I can't believe the kids are missing this, I thought to myself, which is how I know I am certifiably insane, and Cancun, minus children, the only place I can relax. As car lights approached from the right, I sprang to my feet and walked back to the RV with determination. I can't believe my kids have never seen stars in Portland, or laid on a blacktop staring at the sky! Opening the RV door I spied four kids fixated on electronics who refused to give me the time of day, let alone entertain an...

All my children over the age of twelve are pissed. That's how I know we're back to school. Stacks of paperwork, times four, thrown on my desk needing signatures, fees paid, calendar updates, and child assessments leaving me as empty as the checkbook and empathizing with their need for one last week of summer vacation. My fourth grader might be agreeable, if not for his siblings cursing homework assignments; after all, he's dismissed by 2:15pm daily and has at least two outdoor recesses! With three days of back-to-school torture under our belts we packed up the minivan, Griswold-style, and set off for a Labor Day camping weekend unplugged to recharge. Off the grid without a Snapchat or video game in sight, we exhaled and embraced the Forced Family Fun outdoor recess we all needed at the foot of Mt. Hood. Tent camping requires as much prep and patience as back-to-school shopping, minus the sharpened Ticonderoga pencils and damned college-ruled graph paper always out of st...