Playgroup

Robert will be 13 years old tomorrow. I can’t believe that tiny little bundle of joy I brought home from the hospital is going to be a teenager. As we hit this milestone I fondly remember those days, so long ago when I hovered over his bassinet and watched him breathe .I loved being a stay at home mom. I reveled in my new role as a mommy, but I never imagined how isolating it would be. I had a wonderful mother-in-law who would come over at the drop of a hat, and my mom came out to visit for a few days after Robert was born. Glenn took a couple weeks off of work and that was fantastic, but then everyone got back to their lives and I was left alone for long periods of time with a newborn. Let’s face it; newborns can be a little boring. They sleep a lot and they aren’t very interactive. It didn’t take long for me to start to go a little stir crazy.

By chance, I saw a flyer for the MOMS Club. I wasted no time calling the number and within a day or two the application showed up in my mailbox. I filled out the application, sent it back and waited. I was a little nervous while I waited to hear about my “playgroup placement”. Then it happened, I got the call. I was placed in a playgroup. The only thing I knew about this group was that the women all lived within my geographic area. That’s it. No other information.

As luck would have it, the group was meeting in a house in my neighborhood that week. I put my little man in a cute outfit, strapped him into a stroller and walked around the corner to Teresa’s house. I was the first one there and introduced myself to Teresa and met her little girl Sarah. Soon we were joined by Elizabeth and her daughter Micaela, Karen and her daughter Leah, Lori and her twins Spencer and McKayla, and Paulette and her son Connor. I was the newbie to the group that had already been meeting for a couple months. It could have been awkward and I could have been made to feel like an interloper, but instead the ladies were warm and welcoming. I felt like a full-fledged member in a very short period of time.

A few weeks after I joined we got a new newbie, Jolene and her daughter Rachel. She made our group complete. We put in word with the MOMS Club that we were a closed playgroup and would not be accepting new members. I cannot believe for one second that we were put together as a group simply because of when we joined the MOMS Club. I have to believe God had a hand in our meeting. To this day I thank God for those ladies.

We’ve had a few changes, but never any real issues. Paulette left the group after about a year because she lived too far away and it was hard for her to come to us, and frankly, none of us wanted to drive to West Virginia to meet at her house. No hard feelings. We all really liked Paulette and Connor, but we had babies, and babies don’t necessarily love long car rides to remote areas of West Virginia.

It didn’t take long to test our bonds. In that first year one of my friends lost a baby late in her pregnancy. We rallied around her and tried to love her through it. My mother-in-law died and my girls were there for me to watch Robert and to cook a meal or two. We also had many blessings. Elizabeth and her husband Michael welcome a new baby, Cosette, and a few months after that Karen and her husband Scott welcomed their new baby, Emma. Glenn and I welcomed Reid and then finally Teresa and her husband Steve welcomed their new baby, Connor. The meals were flying, babysitting commenced. We were a well oiled support group.

Things settled down for a few years and our playgroup was the highlight of my week. The kids became more self-sufficient and our weekly meetings became much less about them and more about us moms. We loved our weekly chat fests eating quick breads and drinking copious amounts of coffee. When the first generation of kids headed off to preschool we changed our meeting day from Thursday to Wednesday. The next year we changed it back to reflect their 4 year old preschool schedules. We were dreading kindergarten. How were we going to manage to meet with the kids on different kindergarten schedules? I wish I could tell you what we did, but I don’t remember. I know we still got together, whenever we could. By that time the second generation was getting bigger and enjoyed spending time together.

We lost a group member around that time. Lori and her family moved to Connecticut. It was sad to say good-bye to Lori, McKayla, Spencer and Lori’s husband Patrick. Robert was especially saddened because Spencer was the only boy in the first generation group. The kids were all in school full time by then and we were meeting more and more sporadically. It seemed as though our little group had served its purpose and we were all heading in different directions. They all made a point to come see me and entertain me while I was on bed rest over the summer of2004, but we didn’t have any concrete plans to continue meeting as a playgroup. I was afraid our group would fracture and was very saddened by the thought.

Then the unthinkable happened. Teresa’s husband, Steve was diagnosed with a rare and aggressive form of Leukemia. To make matters worse, they had just moved into a new home in Northern Virginia, a little bit of a drive from our homes in Maryland. But the miles didn’t matter. Teresa and the kids needed us, and we were going to do everything we could for the family. Elizabeth was able to find a house for them to stay in while Steve was receiving treatment. Their home in Northern Virginia was too far from Johns Hopkins Hospital and they were panicked about where they were going to stay. Elizabeth’s in-laws spend their winters in Florida, so their home was sitting empty. The best part was that it was only a couple miles from all of us. We were able to provide meals and babysitting whenever it was needed. By late spring, Steve’s treatments were over and he seemed to be getting better. The family moved out of their temporary housing back to Northern Virginia and we all breathed a collective sigh of relief. To honor Steve and Teresa and all they had been through, our playgroup formed a team for the American Cancer Society’s Relay for Life. Steve was able to walk the survivor lap. It was a shining moment for Steve, Teresa and all those who loved them. Unfortunately, our joy was short lived. In a matter of weeks Steve’s disease returned and we said our final good-byes to him in July 2005. We rallied around Teresa during the bleak weeks ahead. She didn’t have to give childcare a second thought because our doors were open wide for her children. She didn’t have to wonder who to turn to when she needed to cry, she had five shoulders at the ready. We helped her with a yard sale; we helped her move, then move again. Whatever she needed, we tried to be there for her.

Many playgroups formed and crashed in flames during our active years with the MOMS Club. Occasionally we would meet someone who would ask us to let them in to our group. I suppose we could have, but I think we knew instinctively that adding new members would change the very essence of what made us work. Flash forward six years and our group is still intact, sort of. We don’t see each other as often as we’d like, and though not officially, we have let a few others into our circle. Just like any long-term relationship, we’ve had our ups and downs, misunderstanding and frustrations, but in the end, we have an unspoken bond to one another.

So as I reflect on my 13 years of motherhood, I have to reflect on the 13 years in the playgroup and all that it has meant to me. I don’t know what I would have done without this wonderful group of ladies in my life. Because of them I had somewhere to go when I felt the walls closing in on me, because of them I am a scrapbooker, because of them I am a better mother, wife, friend. Thank you my friends for 13 unforgettable years. Can’t wait to see what the future holds.

Don't Mess With The Military

I am steamed and I have to vent or will explode. I just read that the powers that be are looking at Military Retiree Benefits as a way to cut a few bucks from the budget. That’s right, let’s not look at cutting the salaries or benefits of the do nothings in Congress, let’s cut the benefits of people who have served our country in times of peace and war.

Let me give you a few statistics so that you know where I am coming from. Less than one percent of our population willingly serves in our Armed Services. I will say that again in case you missed it, less than one percent. Service people do not receive a pension unless they serve 20 years or more in the military. Of the less than one percent of people that serve in the military, only 17 percent stay in long enough to actually receive retirement benefits. Fifteen years doesn’t cut it, you must serve a full 20 years in order to receive benefits from our grateful nation. Once the 20 year mark has been reached you can retire at 50 percent of your salary for the rest of your life. That’s the deal we made with our service people when they voluntarily agreed to be on the front line.

In contrast, let’s talk about a typical member of Congress. Five years, that’s right, they only have to serve five years in order to receive pension benefits. So they can sit around and keep their head low, try to stay scandal free for five years and they can receive their full pension at age 62. Sound fair to you?

This absolutely makes my blood boil. I am a firm believer in term limits. It seems the only people who don’t believe in term limits are the politicians themselves. If we take the monetary incentive out of serving and institute term limits, we might actually get a Congress that does something instead of wasting time forming committees and campaigning for re-election. This cannot be the system our forefathers dreamed of when they started this great nation of ours. It is so corrupt and ugly and disgusting that the average American has no faith in the system at all. Like most people, I have voiced my disgust from time to time, but I am usually mum because I don’t like conflict. Let me state this loud and clear… if this do nothing group of corrupt individuals decides they can cut the pensions of the people who voluntarily put their lives in harms way, then I will become a very loud voice. This isn’t right, I won’t stand for it and I encourage those who care to make their voices heard.

Yee Haw, We're Going to the Rodeo

I grew up going to the rodeo. My dad loved the rodeo and as a result he took his children whenever possible. Though I loved riding horses, I was never adventurous enough to try my hand at riding in the rodeo myself. My sister, Laurie, did dabble in barrel racing ever so briefly, but I have never had the drive for competition. I may have gone to a rodeo or two after my father died, but I never enjoyed it as much.

Flash-forward 30 years and it dawned on me that my children had never been to a rodeo. I was determined to change that. My boys were not going to go another year without see and experiencing the wonderful spectacle that is “The Rodeo”. We planned a long stop-over in Cody, Wyoming to right this wrong. In my exhaustive research, I learned that Cody, Wyoming is the rodeo capital of the world. They have a real live rodeo every night June through August. This is the real thing. The kids competing have to pay an entry fee and no doubt many have dreams of going to the National Finals Rodeo. Hot dang, my boys are going to the rodeo.

I was in heaven when we pulled into the parking lot. It was dusty, it was smelly and you could hear the bulls snorting and the cows mooing. We walked in and there stood a giant bull. For $10 you could sit on the beast. I thought about it. Figured the boys would love it, but didn’t want to spend $30 for the privilege. I’m cheap. We found great seats, a few rows up and dead center. The bull chutes were below us and we could see the animals as they were penned and prepped for riding. We could see the young men wrapping their hands and psyching themselves out to take on their formidable opponents.

The rodeo started like any good rodeo. Two golden haired girls wearing red sequenced western blouses rode into the ring holding the American flag high. They rode around in circles a couple times before coming to a stop in the center of the ring as we said the Pledge of Allegiance. They rode out and a raven haired beauty, slightly older, came riding into the ring holding a much larger flag and we sang the National Anthem. I always get chocked up at events like this. I love standing shoulder to shoulder with strangers, united in love of our great nation.

Time to rodeo. Our MC/clown came out to introduce the events and to tell a few jokes. He was really funny and the kids got a kick out of him. Then the bull riding started. The first kid was fantastic. He held on to the bucking bull for the required eight seconds before being tossed off like a rag doll. The bull came frighteningly close to stomping on the kid, but he was able to scramble out of the way, just in time. What a sight. As the event continued, most of the cowboys were thrown off well before the eight seconds were up, but they all went down in style.

After the bull riding there was calf roping, bronc riding, team roping and a few other events, but my all time favorite event is Barrel Racing. I love watching barrel racing. There is just something so very exciting about seeing those kids race around the barrels at break neck speeds. I have always loved barrel racing and I’m sure I always will. The barrel racing at the Cody rodeo did not disappoint. There were two categories, 12 and up, and under 12. Most of the 12 and up crowd were kids in their late teens, early 20’s and they were fast. You could tell they had been racing for a long time and they were comfortable in the saddle. There was one little girl, who just turned 12 who quickly became the crowd favorite. She flew around the barrels with her little braids flapping in the wind. She didn’t win in her category, but she came awfully close. The 12 and under competition was cut-throat. These little kids were amazing. Fast as lighting and not a single disqualification in the group. One little girl stood out. She was six. Long blond braids under her pink cowboy hat and the biggest horse I have ever seen. She was so tiny that her little legs just stuck straight out. The crowd was on their feet, cheering this tiny little wisp of a girl. She blazed through the barrels, her little legs flapping, her braids flying behind her, bobbing up and down on the saddle like it was nothing. Honestly, I don’t know if she won or not. I think she did, but I was so stunned by her talent and fearless attitude that I proclaimed her the winner in my mind. Fortunately for the other competitors, she was last on. I couldn’t imagine having to follow that act.

The highlight of the rodeo for the boys was when they were allowed to run into the ring with all the other children and attempt to pull a bandana off the tails of three calves. The MC/clown called the kids down got them all lined up in a straightish line and proceeded to explain the event. In the course of explaining the event he told the kids to reach down, pick up a handful of dirt and put it in their pocket. Most of the kids realized the clown was joking, but I saw Reid and Sean reach down and pick up the dirt. I’m yelling from up in the stands “NO! NO!”, but it was no use, they couldn’t hear me. They both put a handful of rodeo dirt into their pockets. There were about 75 kids in the ring, and Sean came very close to getting a bandana, but no, victory was not meant to be. He was disappointed, and I was afraid he wouldn’t snap out of it, but by the time the rodeo ramped back up the disappointment was forgotten.

The rodeo ended with a second round of bull riding. The second round was much more exciting than the first. One of the bulls kept trying to jump out of the chute and the rider was never able to get on him. Another rider got banged into the gate as soon as it was opened and granted another try. One of the bulls quickly dispensed with his rider and went after the clown in the barrel and the brightly dressed dummy in the middle of the field. Dummy parts went flying much to the delight of the boys.

Much too soon it was over. We got back in our car and drove back to the RV. Not quite ready to end the perfect night we sat outside for a few minutes and looked for constellations. The Wyoming sky is almost free from light pollution and the stars seem to sparkle a little brighter there. Sean was delighted to be able to find the North Star on his own and then it happened… a shooting star. The perfect ending to the perfect night.

Flying Pigs

After much planning and anticipation, the day of our horseback riding/white water rafter adventure was upon us. We got up and out crazy early because of road construction in Yellowstone National Park. The most direct route from our campground in West Yellowstone, Montana to Gardiner, Wyoming was through the park. The morning before it took us almost two hours to go 30 miles because of the aforementioned road construction, and we weren’t going to take any chances the morning of our adventure. Of course, there was no construction that morning and we were way early, which is fine with me. I would much rather find ways to kill time than stress out about being late.

We checked in with Flying Pig Adventure Company, got directions to the ranch and took the 30 minute drive, six miles straight up a mountain on a dirt road. We got to the ranch, met our trail leaders and were assigned our horses. I was shocked when they brought out a giant horse and called Sean over. They put him on the behemoth and he didn’t seem fazed at all. I on the other hand was slightly freaked out. I started riding horses when I was younger than him, but the horse I rode was tiny compared to Sean’s mount.

Glenn got his horse next, then Robert, Reid and finally me. I was assigned a horse named Curly. As soon as I got up on him, he started trying to nose his way to the front of the pack. As we started riding we ended up in the middle of the group and Curly continually crowded the horse in front of me and seemed very agitated. I’m sure he started to settle down, but honestly, once my knee started aching I didn’t care. All I could think about was the time and the fact that we had signed up for a two hour ride. I was fairly certain I wasn’t going to last two hours. It has been thirty years since I’ve ridden a horse and my joints were not prepared.

Sean was able to distract me from my aching knee by his screams. I looked ahead and saw him riding into the brush and through the pine trees. His horse decided it was done and wanted to take a more scenic route. Unfortunately, Sean has no riding experience and didn’t know what to do other than yell for help. After what seemed like ten minutes one of the trail guides galloped up from the back of the pack and got him out of the wilderness. Sean took it all in stride and seemed unfazed. He continued to ride, often looking back to talk to Robert.

Finally, when I thought I could take no more, the ride ended. I could barely stand, and walking was a painful endeavor. Once done with the ride we were served lunch. Can’t say I loved the lunch, cold, overdone hamburgers on dry, just this side of stale buns, baked beans, tortilla chips and hard, overdone peanut butter brownies. I was expecting more… I was definitely expecting hot and tasty, not cold and dry.

We finished lunch and headed back down the dirt road to the river to start our whitewater rafting adventure. We parked on the street across from Flying Pig and Glenn noticed the car behind us looked familiar. He thought it looked like my mom’s car. I was doubtful. I had invited my mom and her husband Herb to join us but they had declined. Surprise. It was my mom and Herb. They had a change of heart and decided to brave the rapids with us.

After our safety briefing we were assigned rafts. My mom and Herb were with us as well as five young men from Saudi Arabia. English was not their first language, nor was it their second or third. They had apparently lived pampered lives because not one of them knew how to row a raft. When our guide said “forward”, they rowed backwards. When our guide said “backwards” they rowed forward. Rowed is actually too strong a word to describe what they were doing. They were, in essence, dipping the tip of the oar in the water and half-heartedly moving it. It was pathetic, to say the least. I was stuck on one side with three of these men and was trying singlehandedly to keep our raft from turning in circles all the way down the Yellowstone River. At one point these men decided to get out of the raft and go for a swim. I suggested we row away, since the dead weight was gone, but alas our guide, Ford, was a responsible young man and didn’t want to lose his job.

The kids, in the meantime, were having a blast. They got to sit at the front of the raft and allow the spray to wash over them. I’m not sure what the water temperature was, but it was cold. Every time it lapped over the raft and onto me it felt like someone poured a glass of ice water down my shirt. When our Saudi friends started swimming, in wet suits I might add, Reid and Sean begged me to let them get in. I warned them that it was cold and reminded them that they didn’t have wet suits, but they wanted in. I finally relented and let them get into the frigid waters. Reid was the first to cry uncle, but Sean refused to ask to come back in. I had to drag him back into the raft, his lips were blue and he was shivering. The next opportunity to get out, he declined.

In spite of our raft mates, we had a great time braving the rapids of the Yellowstone River. It was eight miles of twists, turns, rapids, still waters, bone chilling spray, a kidnap attempt by another raft and lots of laughs. Flying Pig Adventure Company delivered on their promise to give us fun-filled afternoon. If the opportunity came again I would probably skip the horseback portion of the day and opt for a longer raft trip. The horseback riding dragged on, but the rafting was over too soon.

We topped our day of adventure with a soak in “Boiling River” in Yellowstone. It is an area on the Yellowstone River where the scalding hot waters from one of the thousand hot springs/geysers runs off. It was incredible. Take a small step to one side and you are in scalding waters, step the other way and the water is ice cold. I found a spot that had a good mixture, with just the occasional hot spot/cool spot and soaked my tired achy muscles.

Finally, we dragged our tired selves back to the motor home. There was no push back when I ordered everyone to shower and go to bed. We were all exhausted. In very short order, snores were heard coming from the Anderson’s RV.

Digital Dream

I'm not a huge fan of technology. Not to say I'm a technophobe, I'm certainly not. I'm not afraid of some weird I-Robot threat, and I'm not overly concerned that "the man" can track my every move when I have my cell phone on. I use the ATM whenever I can, pay-pump is my friend and I prefer self-checkout at the grocery store. I just don't get the point of some of our latest technological advances. I've considered getting an e-reader, but still don't feel compelled. I have an i-pod only because I won it at the Frederick Home Show. Yes, I use a laptop, but it is pretty basic. I have no intention of ever tweeting, don't get the point whatsoever. I have no illusion that people are waiting with baited breath to find out what my latest thought is while I wait in line at the MVA. Our GPS has managed to get us into trouble from time to time, so I still keep an atlas close at hand when we travel. However, there is one technology I absolutely love. I didn't want to love it. I fought off getting it until I was forced to do so. But now that I've got one, I do not wish to ever give up. The digital camera.

Getting a digital camera was hard for me. I loved my 35mm. It took clear, true color photos. It wasn't complicated and it always worked. I began to realize I was going to have to consider getting a digital camera several years ago when we were vacationing at the Outer Banks and Myrtle Beach. I couldn't buy film. I went from drug store to drug store, department store to department store, nobody had film. I thought I had brought enough film with me, 10, 24 print rolls, but as I was happily snapping away at the boys playing in the surf I could see my stash dwindling to dangerous levels. I ended up rationing my film the last couple days of vacation and didn't get all the shots I would have like to have gotten. That wasn't the tipping point for me. No, I just stocked up on film at Costco the next time I was in there. The final straw was when my beloved 35mm camera started having issues. The pictures were suddenly less clear, a little dark. It made a funny noise when the film would advance from time to time, occasionally it wouldn't advance at all. The camera was a simple point and shoot, I probably spent less than $150 for it, I wasn't about to spend big bucks to get it fixed. That's when I started earnestly looking for a new digital camera.

I have to say, I love it. I really do. I love being able to snap away and not worry about processing fees. I love that I can download a picture or two or ten and send them to my mother, or post them on Facebook. I love the instant gratification of taking a picture and seeing exactly what it looks like. We have been in the Mount Rushmore area of South Dakota for the last several days and I have taken at least 100 pictures of the sculpture. Many straight on, but many more from different vantage points. In some of the photos you can only see Washington, some you can only see Lincoln a few you can only see Jefferson and Roosevelt. If I were still using my 35mm camera the fees to develop the film would be astronomical and I wouldn't know if I had good pictures until after I paid for them. But with my digital camera I can download them to my laptop every night and relive the day with my family. How fantastic is that?

Gone are the days of dealing with stacks and stacks of photos, storing them until I get a chance to put them in a scrapbook. Now I print out only the photos I need for the pages I will be scrapbooking. I'm even dipping my toe into the world of digital scrapbooking, so who knows where that will take me. I am excited to see what the next advance will be in the world of digital photography. I will watch QVC for hours when they have all the digital gadgets for sale. I've not bought any yet, but I'm sure it won't be long. I've felt my hand twitch a few times when they've flashed the phone number on the screen. I'm even considering the purchase of a second digital camera. I like mine, but it's a little bulky and has a few features I don't use. I want something a bit more sleek and, of course, idiot proof. I'm sure I would use all the features on my current camera if I bothered to read the 500 page manual that came with it. That's just not going to happen. Even if I had the time, the inclination isn't there.

I don't want a cell phone capable of taking motion picture quality movies, I don't want to Twitter, I'll gladly trade in my GPS for a good atlas, my digital HD channels on my TV are always screwed up, thanks Comcast, I don't mind holding a book and flipping the pages and I wouldn’t mind weaning my kids off the X-Box and Wii, but go back to a 35mm? No thank you.