You Betcha, Y'All

Whenever someone asks me where I'm from, I never know just how to answer that question.  I was born in and spent grade school in California, went to junior high and high school in Missouri, attended college in Delaware, and then moved back to Missouri for a couple of years, followed by two years in Colorado.  In 2000, I moved to Minnesota, where I have been for the past twelve years.  If I had only thought to register for frequent flyer miles years ago.

Since I've lived in Minnesota the longest, does that make me a Minnesotan by default?  Does the fact that I pronounce the word "food" like it has eleven Os in it and walk out of the house without a jacket when it's 40 degrees make me a Minnesotan?  Or does the fact that I don't play "Duck, Duck, Grey Duck" or call soda "pop" mean that I'm not?

Regardless of whether or not I know how to answer the "Where are you from?" question, I know that both of my children are, without a doubt, Minnesotans.  When Cara and I were shopping when she was about 2 and she pointed at something and said, "kyoooote!" (That's how we say "cute" up here.)  It was right then that at it dawned on me that I was the owner of a true Minnesotan.

In a few short months, we will be trying on a new accent. Craig was offered a wonderful opportunity in Fort Worth, Texas and, after the kids finish up the school year, we will be joining him out there.  While we are sad to leave, it's also very exciting to be embarking on a new chapter in our lives.

Both Craig and I have been where the kids will be in a few months (he was about Cara's age when he moved from San Antonio to Colorado).  New house, new state, new people, new culture.  There's bound to be teasing.  There may be even a few exaggerated impressions of accents.  But I'm sure we'll keep our "Howdy, Pardners" to a minimum, dontchaknow?   

Discovering Thirties

I'm not sure if this is true for everyone, but I have found my thirties to be a decade of personal discovery unlike any decade prior. Although I am sure that this is just a natural part of growing older and maturing, I have to give credit to my children for helping to accelerate this enlightenment.

For example, I didn't completely realize how bossy I was until I witnessed Cara directing her brother or her cousin in one of her many plays. On a related note: Ian, I am very sorry for putting you in my dress up clothes and barrettes and making you go door-to-door asking for money.

I also didn't fully appreciate how much I wanted to be right until I went head-to-head with a two year old about whether Long Lake was a river or a lake. We're now going on year three for calling it the "river lake".I am learning about myself even today.

Even though I am still bossy with an intense need to be right, the recognition of these traits makes them feel somehow more correctable. And just when you think you've gotten yourself figured out, new things come to light. Why, just this past week I uncovered two new fears that I was previously oblivious to.

Last week, I was up at Connor's school  during Bruce the Bug Guy's presentation. Bruce brought out caterpillars, moths, hissing cockroaches, millipedes, and Rosie the tarantula without even so much as a grimace from me. I had always thought that I was cool with all kinds of insects until out came the scorpion and my brain said, "There's your limit."

Later that same week, I became aware of my intolerance for light-your-own fireworks when we spent Independence Day in South Dakota, where the legal restrictions on fireworks are tantamount to "eh, whatever". There were kids loaded up with armfuls of blowy-up-things and armed with punks to ignite those blowy-up-things. Kids loaded with sugar and the adrenaline that comes from being given permission to LIGHT THINGS ON FIRE AND MAKE THEM EXPLODE! I spent a better part of that evening half-watching from the "safety" of my car, trying to make amends with the Big Guy Upstairs for letting my membership lapse and asking if he would please spare my family from getting blown up on this otherwise-enjoyable holiday. (All family members are present and accounted for and have the same amount of fingers, toes, eyes, and hair that they started out with.)

Though I am rapidly approaching the end of my thirties, I am fairly sure that my journey of personal discovery is far from over.  And I have a talkative drama queen and an argumentative donkey to thank for that.

Hair Today...Gone Tomorrow

Right now, Cara is in Colorado visiting Craig's parents. She went home with them after our trip to South Dakota and we'll pick her up when we go back to SD over the July 4th holiday.

Throughout her visit, her grandfather has been taking pictures of Cara and texting them to me.  It's been a great way to "share" her adventure with her.

They hit the ground shopping. 

Not pictured: Grandpa holding the purses.

Helping to earn her keep by picking cherries.

They turned the play yard into a water slide.

On a side but related note, Cara has been planning on donating her hair to Locks of Love for over a year now. Now that it's long enough, it's just a matter of her picking a new hair style and getting it cut. During one of our phone conversations during her Colorado stay, Cara said that she and Grandma had been talking about finally getting her hair cut. She wanted the cut to be a surprise, so she was going to wear her new hat (that she got on one of those many shopping trips) with her hair tucked in it so that I couldn't tell when she had it done.

The 80s have returned and they've landed in a retail store near you.

Another day, another trip with the chapeau.

And then, I got this text....

What an amazing gift!

I texted her Grandpa to make sure that she was still excited about the idea of the new cut now that there was no turning back.  He assured me that the excitement level was still peaking.

About an hour later, I got a phone call.  She was done with her haircut and LOVED it.  She couldn't wait to show us her new hair.  I told her to prove it and send a picture.  No go.  I worked a little harder, explaining that seeing it in person was still going to be a surprise, so she could just send me a sneak peek.  Nothing.  She really was sticking to her "surprise" guns.   

So, now I have to wait about a week to see my child and her awesome new look.  Momma doesn't do well with waiting for surprises. Cara knows this which, I am sure, is adding to her love of this adventure.  I will be counting down the days until the big reveal and working on her every day until then by phone.

FIVE!

Adventures on the Farm - Day 2

Day two on the farm was full of fun and adventure.  If they weren't following Uncle Duane, they were taking turns leading the others around.  They the whole day running and playing and having a total blast.


There were animals to watch...

The farm cat got a special treat.

Uncle Duane teaches the kids about gopher anatomy. Connor wanted no part of this demonstration.

Farm equipment to ride...

Cara actually got to drive this. She liked the air conditioned tractor better, though.

Craig even got a turn on the four wheeler. 

Uncle Travis took Collin for a spin on the riding lawn mower.

Things to climb...

Cara got to look in the silo full of feed corn. 

Cara and Aidan loved scaling the hay bales.

And cousins to play with...

Adventures of the Blue Shirts.

They didn't take too kindly to me sneaking up and taking their picture. 

This time, Connor's in the lead.

We celebrated Connor's and Collin's birthdays. Each boy claimed their piece with their fingers.

Oh yeah.  They're related.

As the evening approached, the kids were still in good spirits and still looking for adventures.  Uncle Duane started a campfire with the help of some very eager children and we all roasted marshmallows.  When the novelty of the marshmallows wore off, the kids were all given hammers (yes, hammers) so that they could assemble some better seats for themselves.

One of the only times we saw Duane sitting down the whole day.

It finally started to get dark and that was our cue to head back to the hotel for the night.  It's always hard to say goodbye to the farm, but after over ten straight hours, even the idea of leaving couldn't wipe the smiles off of the kids' faces.

Already planning her next visit.

Adventures on the Farm - Day 1

Last weekend, the whole family took a trip to Mitchell, South Dakota to meet up with some of Craig's family and spend some time on his great-uncle's farm. The kids and I have been to the farm a few times in the past few years, but this was Craig's first time back since he was much younger. Craig has plenty of farm stories that should have been enough motivation for me to keep my kids way far away from this farm. But there's just something about this place that feels exciting and new and familiar and comfortable all at the same time.

Within moments of arriving, all 4 kids were following Uncle Duane around as though he was the Pied Piper. My daughter, having been to the farm the most, knows that, if you want to have an adventure, he's the one to stick by. He took them to see the cows and told them about how they feed and care for these animals.

Fence sitters...and the exception.

After checking out the cattle, Duane took the kids to the old dairy barn. It hasn't been used in years, which is clear by its appearance and only adds to the adventure.

Who can tell what mysteries await them inside the barn?

Uncle Duane and the four cousins head into the dairy barn.
Not pictured: The Pied Piper's flute

A hole in the roof of the dairy barn.

Duane lifts Aidan up to see what's in the nest.
"Yeah. That's a dead bird," he states, matter-of-factly.

To the kids' surprise, the bird was not actually dead but was very much alive
and had a lot to say about being removed from his nest.

Connor was the only one of the four that would touch the bird.
I wonder if this further changed his view on having one as a pet.

At home, I tell my kids not to pick up bird feathers because of the diseases that could be on them. At the farm, my children touch WHOLE BIRDS! While I do not consider myself a helicopter mom, I am protective. In some ways, I am sure my protectiveness has sheltered my kids in ways that aren't always positive. But on the farm, that all melts away.