Cell Phones

I’m not old by most standards. I’m solidly stuck in the middle of my forties and I’m okay with that. I can remember life before touch-tone phones, answering machines and cordless phones. I remember when long distance was based on how far you lived from someone, so if you had to call someone out of state, you only hit the highlights in your conversation. I’m glad I have flat rate long distance now. I enjoy being able to call my friends near and far and not have to worry about how long we talk. I’m glad I have a cordless phone. I can’t imagine getting anything done if my phone was tethered to the wall. I do most of my talking while gathering up a load of laundry, sweeping the kitchen floor, making a meal. If I was stuck in one place I would have to decide between housework and socializing. I don’t want to imagine which one would lose. As far as those old rotary phones are concerned, I don’t miss those either. It seemed like everyone had all nines in their number when you were in a hurry. All that said, there is one thing about phone technology I could completely live without… cell phones.

I hate cell phones. When did we become so important that we couldn’t be away from the phone for a couple hours? I periodically forget to stick my phone in my purse, and usually when I do it is either off or the battery is dead. It used to bother me. I was plagued by “what if there was an emergency?” I’m not discounting emergencies, they do happen, but most days go by without one. When I turn my cell phone on after several days I usually have a missed call or two but they are almost always from a number I don’t recognize or a telemarketer. On a very rare occasion I have an actual message. Never of the emergency variety.

One of the reasons I don’t get many calls on my cell phone is that I don’t give my number to very many people. My husband has it, the boys’ schools have it, a few friends have it. I don’t give it to my dentist, or hairdresser or anyone else who doesn’t need it. I have a home phone with unlimited local and long distance, why do I need to use up minutes on my cell phone verifying I have an appointment?

Texting? Don’t get me started on texting. I don’t get it. My children don’t have cell phones yet, and I’m told when they do I will find texting the best way to keep in touch with them. My parents didn’t have texting and I was always where I was supposed to be, when I was supposed to be there. Parents, physicians and educators are wringing their hands because it seems our youth can’t communicate effectively, are unable to spell and their social skills are atrocious. The answer is obvious to me. Am I the only one? Furthermore, our children are getting slaughtered on the highways because they are trained to believe they can’t miss a single text from their friends. What’s it going to take?

Do cell phones have place in our lives? Yes, of course they do. It is comforting to know I can reach Glenn when I need to. But could we live without it? Sure. Before we got our cell phones we had an 800 number. That’s how Glenn called me when he was on the road. It worked great for a number of years. I think it’s important to step back and ask the question “Am I too reachable?” Maybe our children would learn to make decisions if they couldn’t call and get our opinion at a moments notice. Heck, they might even become more independent and responsible too. If they are tasked with remembering where to be and when to be there without a reminder, they might just surprise us.

That’s my rant for today. It’s been building for quite some time. Whew, glad to get it off my chest.

Happy Birthday Reid

Ten years ago tonight I became a mother for the second time. Reid Glenn Anderson came into this world at 10:37 pm weighing a whopping 8 lbs 8-1/2 oz and, get this... 23-1/4 inches long. Is it any wonder I was incredibly uncomfortable at the end of my pregnancy? He was almost half my height!

Reid was another dream baby. Well, sort of. As long as he was being held he was a happy as can be. He hated being put down and he absolutely hated riding in the car. As a result, I became adept at doing my daily activities with a baby strapped to my body. Though, unfortunately, I had to put him in his carseat while we were in the car. Our car rides were a bit of a nightmare for about the first 9 months of Reid's life. I was so used to his screaming while I drove around that it unnerved me if he suddenly stopped. When Reid was five weeks old he was diagnosed with RSV and his pediatrician ordered me to take him directly to the hospital. Already upset about having to put my baby in the hospital, I was a bit of a nervous wreck as we drove the 3 miles or so to Frederick Memorial. As per usual, Reid started the drive screaming as soon as I strapped him into his seat. I'm zipping down the highway when he suddenly stopped crying. I whipped that car onto the shoulder, jumped out of my seat, flung his car door open and screamed his name. His eyes flew open and he was so startled he screamed louder than he ever had before. The poor thing was so tired from being sick he has fallen asleep. I was both relieved and remorseful. I showered him with kisses and apologies and we got back on the road.

Reid has always had a zest for life. He loves to laugh and learn new things. I call him my "stop and smell the roses" child because he doesn't do anything fast. He loves to take his time and soak everything in. This can be very endearing. He notices the world around him and as a result he has made me slow down to see what he is looking at. In many ways, this is maddening. Occasionally you have to get moving. We don't always have the luxury of watching where the squirrel is going.

Reid loves to be the center of attention, in a good way. He likes to do presentations in school. He was recently in the school play and tomorrow he will be performing a magic act at the school talent show. He's a natural and is very confident in his abilities. The unfortunate partner to creativity seems to be sensitivity. Reid is incredibly sensitive and gets his feeling hurt easily. Glenn and I noticed that when Reid was a toddler he could take a spectacular tumble, jump up, brush himself off and keep on going, but if you raised your voice to him he completely fell apart. Tears would actually shoot out of his eyes. Still to this day he can brush off physical pain, but emotional pain turns him into a sobbing mess.

It is this sensitivity that worries me most as his mother. How do you teach a child to harden his heart? I want him to be sensitive. His sensitivity makes him a more caring and tender individual. He always roots for the underdog and he has such a big heart that he hurts when those around him hurt. That's a good thing, right? Not always. He wears his heart on his sleeve and it makes people around him uncomfortable. We live in a society that doe not encourage tenderness. Our society says that boys need to be tough. Reid is not tough and he knows it. He knows that he is different and it bothers him. All I can do, as his mother, is encourage him to be true to himself, but at the same time, choose his battles wisely. I am helpless. I can't hang out in the fourth grade and run interference. He is going to have to figure some things out on his own. That kills me. I yearn for the days when all I had to do to pick him up, hold him close and all would be right in his world.

We are ten years into this adventure with Reid. I can't wait to see what the next ten years bring.

Milestones

Today is a milestone in my life. My father lived exactly 44 years 3 months and 8 days. Today I have lived 44 years, 3 months and 9 days. I was 14 when my father died. I knew at the time that he wasn't old, but I don't think I ever realized how young he really was.

My dad lived in a different time, different culture. He left home and joined the Navy when he was 17. It was his only chance to escape the poverty of his family home. The Navy gave him stability he never had and taught him that if he showed initiative he would be rewarded. He became an Electricians-mate and completed his high school education. He married young and started his family while he was in his early 20's.

He was functionally illiterate when he joined the Navy. When he retired 22 years later he was an avid reader and loved going to the library with his children. He relished learning interesting, yet useless facts. He used to call himself a "warehouse of worthless information". He passed that loved onto me. Very frequently he would challenge us to trivia contests. At dinner he would say something like, "The first one of you that can tell me who invented the toilet will get $1." This was long before the internet, so I would race to the library to find that little nugget of information. In the early years of our contests, my sister, Laurie would be right there with me, and would usually win. Once she moved out it was just my brother, John and me. I could never beat John in feats of strength, but I mopped the floor with him in these trivia contests. Maybe that's the way it was meant to be. He and John had sports. But he and I had the library. When we first moved to Altus, OK, the library was in an old house on Broadway Street, about three blocks from our house on Commerce. He and I walked those three blocks time and time again. I remember we once had an encyclopedia salesman at our door. The man was passionate about the merits of encyclopedia ownership. My father listened to his whole spiel, then politely said "I've got a whole library around the corner and it's free." That was the end of that sales-pitch.

When my dad retired from the Navy as a Senior Chief Petty Officer he was only 39 years old. So this young retiree and avid reader started the next phase of his life. He became a part-time college student. His dream... become an elementary teacher. The first few years he worked full time as and electrician and took a couple classes per semester. He and my mom decided it would be better for him to go to school full time so that he can finish up and start working. So that's what he did. In the fall of 1980 he became a full time college student at Southwestern Oklahoma State University. He was gone a lot and we missed him, but somehow we all understood it was for the greater good. In the spring of 1981 he started his student teaching at Wilson Elementary School in Altus. He loved it and was offered a teaching job to start in the fall. All he had to do was finish his last two classes over the summer session at SWOSU. He never did. He started feeling sick at the end of June but pushed through it. By the ninth of July he realized he was very sick and checked himself into the hospital. He died the next day. It was that sudden and unexpected. What we thought was pneumonia turned out to be end stage lung cancer.

As my own life passes this milestone I have to compare my life to his. I wasn't born in poverty. It was an unspoken expectation that I would go to college. Seeing my father work so hard and fall short of getting his degree made me that much more determined to follow through on mine. I even entertained the idea of being a teacher. Somehow I felt like I owed it to him. When I changed my major from Elementary Education to Journalism I feared I was letting him down. Then I realized he would want me to find my passion and make a career out of it. Educating young people was his passion, not mine. My dad influenced almost every aspect of my life and I think about him all the time.

He died a young man, but in his 44 years, three months and eight days he changed lives. He made the most of his life and he always pursued his dreams. I have to think that each day I live from now on is a gift that I should cherish. I owe it to him to pursue my own dreams. His life and untimely death taught me to take opportunities as they arise. You never know how many days you have left.

John Henry Weatherly, April 2, 1937 - July 10, 1981

Tragedy and Hate

The son of a boy I went to high school with died very tragically this week. My heart breaks for his family and friends. By all accounts this young man was much loved but had lost his way in life. At 20 he had a lapse in judgment and he paid the ultimate price. I saw little snippets of the accident on Facebook posts, and was curious about the accident. I don't remember how it is I managed to figure out where he died, but once I figured that out I was able to pull up news reports. I now wish I hadn't.

After each online report I found a reader comments section. I was appalled by the callous remarks left by fellow human beings. The venom spewed forth by cowards hiding behind the safety of anonymity left me speechless and angry. I don't know what has happened to our society. It scares me. In the wake of the horrible reports of kids killing themselves due to bullying, you would think people would choose their words more carefully. What is it that makes these people feel they need to comment on a tragedy with such disdain for life? This young man was someones child, grandchild, brother, cousin, friend, boyfriend. So you don't agree with the choices he made, and maybe you think he got what he deserved, keep it to yourself. I have to remember the great advice my mother gave us often as children "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all." I try to live by that rule and I repeat it to my children frequently.

I didn't know this young man. I can't even say I knew his father. Sure we spent six years together in school. If you mentioned his name to me I could conjure up the image of a boy with sandy blond hair, a wide smile, a collar turned up. I don't remember having classes with him, though I'm sure we must have. We didn't run in the same circles and I can't recall a single conversation we've ever had. But my heart breaks for him nonetheless. Not because we were great friends, we weren't, not because we are from the same small town in Oklahoma, not because we graduated together, simply because he is a father who has lost a child. It's called empathy.

I don't know how to fix these broken, hateful people. I refuse to respond to their comments because that only gives them the fuel to turn it up a notch. We can turn this around. It will take effort on our part, but we must teach our children to be respectful. We must make sure they see that their words and actions can cause pain. The adage "Sticks and stones can break my bones but words can never hurt me" is a lie. Broken bones heal, broken spirits may not. When we hear someone around us being rude to another human being, we must step up and tell them to stop. If we model good behavior to our children, nieces, nephews, grandchildren, perhaps we can change this world in our lifetime.

At 10:07 tonight I will have been a mother for exactly 12 years. I thought I was prepared. Glenn and I had been married for about a year and a half. We were both in our thirties. We planned for the pregnancy and had all the gear "necessary" for having a baby. I had a huge baby shower and got everything from a glider rocker to a moist wipes warmer and everything in between. When Robert made his debut into this world I was overwhelmed with love and fear.I knew his cry as soon as he was born, and knew the nurses were bringing him to me when I could hear him crying down the hall. I knew. The hospital was full of babies that week, but I knew his cry over all others. Holding him in my arms as he slept filled me with pride I had never felt before. The fear came on day three. The day we had to take him home. That's when I realized I wasn't prepared. Not at all. I had never spent any length of time with a newborn. What was I going to do with this new little person? What if I dropped him? What if I forgot him in the car? What if the house caught on fire? What if, what if, what if... Fortunately for me, Robert was an incredibly calm baby, which calmed me. He rarely cried. When he did cry he usually had a reason. He was either hungry or tired. Within the first couple weeks I was able to decipher what each of his cries meant and was becoming more and more confident in my mothering skills.

Week six I was once again gripped with fear. A fear that had me sitting in a dark room, clutching my baby and crying for hours. I noticed one of his pupils was bigger than the other. It was a big difference and I was convinced it was the symptom of a brain injury or eye injury. The night I discovered the pupil anomaly was the longest night of my life up to that point. I called the pediatrician as soon as their office opened in the morning. The earliest appointment was much later in the day. Anguish. Glenn was flying and called home every time he had a layover. He wanted to come home, but I convinced him to keep working. I would let him know if I needed him to come home. The pediatrician wasn't concerned. Wouldn't even give me a referral. I got one of those "over-protective mother" looks. That didn't sit well with me. I knew that pupils should be more uniform. Fortunately, we had great health insurance at the time and I didn't need a referral to see an ophthalmologist. As soon as I got home from the pediatrician I started calling ophthalmologists. That's how I found Dr. Hodges in Frederick. He made room in his schedule to see me the very next day. Glenn was home for that appointment, and it was great to have someone to lean on. Dr. Hodges was wonderful. He did a complete eye exam on Robert, while he was asleep, I might add, and diagnosed him with anisocoria. Which simply means one pupil is larger than the other. He admitted that Robert's was fairly significant and would probably remain so forever. He told me to mention it if Robert ever received a blow to the head because it could cause alarm to an EMT or emergency room doctor. Other than that, there is no treatment and it's not damaging in any way. What a relief. I'm sure the pediatrician has seen many, many cases of anisocoria and since it wasn't accompanied by any other symptoms knew it was harmless. Unfortunately he didn't think it was necessary to explain it to me as thoroughly as Dr. Hodges did. I became a big fan of Dr. Hodges that day and have used him as my ophthalmologist ever since. If you're in the Frederick area and you need a ophthalmologist for yourself or your child, please give him a call. Tell him Robert's mom sent you.

Since then Robert has remained very healthy. He's had his share of colds, and he once had the rotovirus. That was gross. He and Glenn fell down concrete steps once and he hit his head on the sidewalk. Other than a faint scar on his forehead you wouldn't know it. He has broken his wrist slipping in our driveway on an icy morning. Just your usual, run of the mill childhood bumps and bruises.

He had his first day of pre-school, his first day of kindergarten, first day of middle school and will be having his first day of 7th grade next Monday. He is a great big brother to Reid and Sean, and both love him dearly. He's a deep thinker and a worrier. He likes rules, and expects everyone to follow them. He thinks life should be fair and is often shaken to his core when he sees evidence that it isn't. His teachers love him and his peers are perplexed by him. He doesn't make friends easily, but is very loyal to those he has. He doesn't love sports, but know it pleases Glenn and me when he plays, so he does. He takes great pride in his accomplishments and deep pain in his failures. He makes me proud. I never realized how deeply I could love another person until that little person came into my life. When he's joyful, I'm joyful, when his heart breaks, mine breaks as well. I want to shield him from this world for as long as I can because I know that to mature into a full fledged adult you have to have pain and sorrow. I don't want those for my sweet Robert. I want to magically go back in time when all I needed to do to calm him as sit in that glider rocker, hold him tight and sing him a song. He's in that funny time between child and teenager. He still likes to be tucked in but no longer sleeps with stuffed animals. He will still give me a hug and kiss goodbye in the morning as long as it's before the bus comes into view. He likes to stay home by himself as longs as it's not too long. I know the day is coming when he will feel like he doesn't need me anymore. I also know the day is coming when he will realize he does need me. I'll always be here, and so will my glider rocker.

Maine

Yes, we've been back from New England for several days, and no I haven't gotten around to blogging about it. I have my excuses. First of all, we didn't have wi-fi access in Maine. I know I could have typed it up and then posted it when I found a hot spot, but I didn't, so there. My second excuse is that I picked up food poisoning somewhere along the way. I suspect a certain fast food Italian place at a rest stop in Massachusetts, but I don't have proof, so I won't name names. Once I was home and recovered from that I just got busy with life. Laundry had to be done, meals had to be prepared, errands had to be run. The boys start school in less than a week and they needed all of their school supplies. I never did find the "Primary" Composition books that the first grade teachers want. I go through this every time I've have a first grader. After four stores and several hours I gave up. Sean will be going into first grade with plain old Composition books.

That brings me back to New England, Maine specifically. I've glanced through my pictures to refresh my memory and now feel prepared to blog about our final New England destination. Maine is everything I hoped it would be. Our first full day in Maine we took the boys to Acadia National Park. I didn't know anything about the park other than it is a great place to find tidal pools (thanks Joy). But it is so much more. Our first stop was, of course, the Visitor Center. It was slightly disorganized and crazy busy for a Wednesday morning. We had to wait in two lines for a total of about 30 minutes to get our car tag and to get the boys their Junior Ranger booklets. I got slightly miffed when I was asked to produce the children before they would give me the booklets. Glenn had taken them to look around the visitors center while I stood in line. Anybody with children can understand this tactic. I gave her the disapproval threesome, the lip snarl, eye roll, deep sigh. Fortunately, Glenn was close by so I didn't have to shout across the room. Once I proved I had three children of Junior Ranger age she handed over the super secret booklets. She muttered something about people lying about having children to get them. I modified the disapproval threesome to an eye roll, gritted teeth smile and a head shake. I wanted to remind her that a majority of the people who wander into national parks every year are tax paying citizens and if they want a Jr. Ranger booklet, the park service should gladly hand them over. I let it go.

While Glenn was wandering through the Visitor Center he bought an auto tour CD. I would say the best $13 spent that day. We got our our map, looked at the Jr. Ranger booklets to check the requirements and planned our visit. One of the activities the boys needed to do was attend a Ranger led program. There was a "Secrets of the Summit" hike on top of Cadillac Mountain starting in an hour, so we decided to head up there. We popped the CD into the car and began our auto tour up the mountain. There were lots of beautiful places to pull over and admire the view as we ascended the mountain. Below us was the town of Bar Harbor, Maine. Surrounding Bar Harbor are several small islands called the Porcupine Islands because they sort of look like porcupines lying in the water. If porcupines had green quills that is. Reid was especially intrigued by the Porcupine Islands since he is currently developing his own super hero "The Porcupine". He hopes to get a job with Marvel some day and "The Porcupine" will be his ticket in. I digress. Bar Harbor, as seen from Cadillac Mountain, is breathtaking. There were sailboats gliding gracefully into and out of port, a tall ship with four masts off in the distance and a cruise ship from Celebrity anchored in open water several yards from shore.

We made it to the top of Cadillac Mountain and found a parking place, no small feat I might add. Parking is a bit of a mess at Acadia. They should talk to the people at Zion. No private cars are allowed at Zion, but the bus service is fantastic, so you don't mind. We found our Park Ranger and began the "Secrets of the Summit" hike. We hiked to the "True Summit" of the mountain, saw the remains of a hotel that was built and burned to the ground the same year in the early part of the 20th Century, and fulfilled a Junior Ranger requirement. After the program we hiked around the top of the mountain for a little while, sat and had a snack then piled back into the car. Sean wanted to go to the beach. He wasn't going to rest, or give up peace until he got to the beach. I'm sure it comes as no surprise that the beach and the top of a mountain aren't that close. So we descended the mountain. Parking at the beach is even worse than parking on the mountain. We looked for a parking place for a good twenty minutes before we found a spot at least a mile from where we wanted to be. Sean and Reid were the only two Andersons the slightest bit interested in getting into the cold North Atlantic waters. When I say cold I mean 58 degrees. I got a little chill just now. Sean rushed in and if he was bothered by the cold didn't show it. Reid managed to stay pretty dry. He only went in about as deep as his knees. Maybe 6 year olds are impervious to cold. I can't explain it. When it was time to leave he didn't want to go. He was having a great time.

Once we dragged Sean out of the ocean and got him changed we took the mile hike back to our car to head to our next destination "Thunder Hole". Glenn put the car in gear, drove about 10 yards and we were there. We had no idea we were so close or we wouldn't have given up our parking spot. We literally turned a corner and there it was. Fortunately it was getting late enough in the day that parking was no longer an issue. We got back out of the car and crossed the street, went down the stairs and waited for the tide to come in. "Thunder Hole" did not disappoint. "Thunder Hole" is a small inlet, naturally carved out of the rocks, where the waves roll into. At the end of this inlet, down low, is a small cavern where, when the rush of the wave arrives, air and water is forced out like a clap of distant thunder. (This definition provided by acadiamagic.com) It was very exciting. It was just starting to thunder. I'm sure if we had stuck around for an hour or more we would have been treated to louder thunder and large sprays of water. We have three children with us, there was no way we were going to stand around for an hour.

Next came the tidal pools. I was so excited to see the tidal pools. We drove a ways down the road and came to a rocky area. We jumped out of the car and climbed down to the rocks and began looking around. Soon we came upon another couple who were holding sea urchins. I don't think the park service approves of such thing, but since they were holding them, what could we do but take a look, right? As soon as we got down there the man held his hand out to me and then brushed the sea urchin into my hand. Not what I was expecting, but interesting. I held it down so the boys could see it then quickly placed it back in the tidal pool with its sea urchin friends. We jumped from rock to rock finding more and more sea life. Mostly seaweed, and clams, and crab shells. These rocks seem to be a favorite feasting place of seagulls and crabs seem to be their favorite feast.

It was starting to get dark, so we regretfully left the tidal pools and went back to the Visitor Center to collect our Junior Ranger badges. They didn't have badges there, so the boys picked up spiffy patches. Sean was happy. He prefers the patch over the badge. I'm not sure why. Three tired boys and two tired parents crawled back into the car and made our way back to the campground.

The next morning we had breakfast at the "Log Cabin" which had wonderfully crisp bacon on the buffet. I love bacon nice and crispy, but unfortunately rarely get it when eating at a restaurant. Log Cabin had it and I was pleased. Once we had our fill we drove into the town of Bar Harbor. More parking issues cropped up, but we finally found a spot. Thank goodness our tow vehicle is a Ford Fusion. Anything bigger and we would not have fit into that parallel parking spot. The main item on our agenda for the day was to walk across the dry sand bar from Bar Harbor to Bar Island. This feat can only be accomplished during low tide. Once the tide comes in the bar is covered and I don't know what happens to the people stuck on Bar Island. Once onto the dry sand bar we marveled at how clear the water was around us. We also marveled at the fog that was covering several of the Porcupine Islands. It was "mysterious" as Reid said. I've never seen anything like it. The fog just hung over a couple of the islands, it didn't roll into Bar Harbor or over Bar Island. At one point a four masted schooner sailed by one of the islands and it made for a picture perfect scene. On the walk we all tried our hand at skipping stones and watched a seagull pick up a clam, fly high up into the air, drop it, and start the whole process over again. The seagull repeated this process three or four times until the clam was broken open enough to get to the oyster inside. How smart is that? I have a whole new respect for seagulls. Robert was starting to get nervous because he knew that eventually the sand bar would become covered by water, and he didn't want to get stuck. Glenn and I were confident that wasn't go to happen, but didn't see any reason to let him stress, so we got moving.

Bar Island is a primitive island with hiking trails and nothing else. We didn't know where the trails led but decided to take the one most traveled. It was a good choice. It led us to the summit of Bar Island. From there we had a great view of Bar Harbor and the other islands, as well as that mysterious fog. We had a snack on top of the island then headed back down. Over the sand bar once again and back to Bar Harbor. Once back in Bar Harbor we hiked the Seawall trail past beautiful homes on one side and luxurious yachts on the other. We didn't see any "open house/yacht" signs, much to my disappointment, so we could only admire from the outside. The breeze coming off the ocean was very chilly and helped keep the kids moving. The end of the trail dumped us into a neighborhood and we had to rely on our collective sense of direction to get us back into town. Fortunately, sense of direction is something Glenn and I both have. I can't tell my left hand from my right hand, but I know my directions. In town we stopped for ice cream before leaving Bar Harbor behind.

Back in our RV we had a nice meal together, played round after round of Spoons and called it a night. Early the next morning we began or trip home, essentially saying good-bye to our summer of fun. We packed a lot of excitement into a short summer vacation. We put over 5000 miles on our RV and were awed by the beauty and majesty this great nation of ours has to offer. This is a summer we won't forget. It has brought our family a little closer together and we are all excited about planning our summer odyssey next year. Until then, I will keep my blog followers entertained with the day to day experiences of being a "Mother of Boys.

Whew, I'm beat. We left for our New England trip on Friday morning. We kept meaning to study the map and come up with a good plan for avoiding NYC, but as is par for Glenn and me, we never got around to it. So there we were driving along on a collision course with Friday afternoon I-95 traffic in and around NYC; I'm studying the atlas and Glenn is trying to figure out what the GPS wants him to do as we are racing around the Baltimore beltway. We finally devised a plan which took us about 100 miles out of the way, but avoided the weekend mass exodus of Manhattan, Brooklyn, the Bronx, etc. Although we ended up driving out of our way, I'm fairly confident we avoided a ton of traffic and more gray hairs.

We finally got to our campground, southwest of Boston just as the sun was going down. I hate setting up the RV in the dark, but what are you gonna do? Of course, since it was dark, our campsite had to be about as unlevel as any campsite can be. I'm standing in the dark, shining a flashlight on the ramps so Glenn can drive the big rig up and we can sleep without all the blood rushing to our heads. I think it worked. We always forget to bring a level, so I have a trusty little rubber ball I put in the middle of the floor to see if it rolls. It works really well, if I do say so myself. As a back-up method we drip a few drops of water in the sink to see if it puddles or rolls. You know what they say, "Necessity is the mother of invention".

We got up late Saturday morning and drove into Boston. Everything was going fine until we were right outside the city, then all of a sudden, traffic came to a screeching halt. We crept along for at least half an hour before we noticed we could shoot over to the HOV lane. We had no idea where it led, but we were confident it couldn't be far from our intended destination. We were right. It led us straight into downtown Boston. It felt like we were all alone. I don't know where those other cars stuck on the freeway were going, but obviously not downtown. We found a parking garage and started walking aimlessly. Glenn's been to Boston quite a bit with his job, so he has an inkling of where things are. Soon we happened upon a map and realized we were only a few blocks from the Old State House, which is conveniently located across the street from the National Park Service Visitor's Center. Much to the boys dismay, we signed them up for the Junior Ranger Program. Which was a great thing to do in Boston, because it makes sure you see all the important sights on the Freedom Trail. In addition to the Old State House, we saw Faneuil Hall, Paul Revere's house, The Old North Church, and The Old South Meeting House. At each stop we had to get our booklet stamped and answer a question or two about the sight. Once they completed the booklet I felt like we had gotten a good taste of historical Boston. We broke down about halfway through the trail and bought passes to one of the tour buses. That made getting around much easier.

To end our day in Boston we took a harbor cruise. I would like to say it was fun and educational. I haven't a clue. Why? Because Sean, whom I love dearly, was being a total pill. Honestly, it was all I could do to keep from throwing him overboard. For whatever reason he got it in his head that he wanted to sit on the lower deck. You know, the deck that is practically even with the water line and you can't see anything from. I nixed that idea, Glenn and I decided to sit on the second deck, that way we would have a little shelter from the coolness and the sun. We hit Boston on possibly the best day ever for August. The temperature was warm, but not the slightest bit hot. Once we got on the boat, the temp dropped slightly and so there was definitely a chill in the air. Everyone was happy with the second deck, except Sean that is. He carried on, crying and complaining that he was cold, or hot or tired or whatever else would pop into his brain so that he could get his way. I held out for at least 30 minutes before I could take it no longer. By now I had a splitting headache and was on the verge of losing it. I grabbed him by the hand and dragged him down to the lower deck where I made him sit, without talking for the rest of the cruise. I had to sit there with him, but at least he was quiet.

After the cruise we found our way back to our car and drove to the campsite. I headed straight to the bed and Glenn took the boys to the pool. I did drag myself out of bed long enough to scrounge up some grub for the family. The whole time I was wishing I could lose the headache or at least climb back to bed. Fortunately, Glenn took over once dinner was served and he got the boys ready for bed and the dishes cleaned up.

I woke up this morning with the same headache, but I was determined not to let it ruin my day. I made pancakes for my crew and then we went to Plymouth to see the rock and the Mayflower II. The Mayflower is no longer, but the Mayflower II is supposed to be an exact replica. We didn't take the time to go inside because the boys has the beach on their minds. We had promised them a day at Cape Cod, on the beach and that's all they really cared about. If you've seen one rock that the pilgrims landed on, you've seen them all, right?

On we went to Cape Cod. It took us about an hour and a half to get there because traffic was horrible and there is only one road in and out. We drove up to the National Seashore because we knew there would be a fee to get in, however we have our Park Pass, so we wouldn't have to pay. The theory being that people aren't going to pay for a beach when there are public beaches all over the place. Good theory, except that this was a free weekend. I don't know why, but it was. We were on Marconi Beach with about twenty thousand of our closest friends, trying to find a spot to put our stuff down. It was crazy. To make matters worse, the temperature was about 65 degrees and the water temperature was only 64 degrees. Not the best beach day. The kids didn't care. They splashed around with wild abandon. In the meantime Glenn and I are taking turns standing in the water. We take our responsibility as parents very seriously and didn't feel comfortable letting them hang out in the ocean alone. Speaking of the ocean, the waves were out of control. They were coming in fast and furious. The lifeguard had to come off his stand and get people to move down at one point. I don't know if he could spot an undercurrent or what, but I was slightly alarmed. We lasted for about 2 hours. Considering my disdain for crowds, I would say that's a crowning achievement. The crowds wouldn't have been too bad, but for whatever reason we were surrounded by people who didn't realize they were part of a large crowd. We had the kids to our left playing soccer, the adults to our right playing paddle ball and the people behind us playing football. What's wrong with these people? The kids playing soccer finally moved when the ball got a little too close to me and I gave them the "if that ball hits me you will never see it again" look.

The boys did not want to leave, but hunger finally overtook all of us. Usually I plan better than today and would have had snacks at least, but my head was pounding this morning and I'm lucky I remembered to pack swimsuits. Here comes my big gripe concerning Cape Cod... ready? Very few restaurants. We drove forever trying to find someplace we could all agree upon. I guess I should rephrase that. Actually there are plenty of restaurants if you love seafood. Unfortunately, none of us do. I'll eat the occasional shrimp if prepared right, but I don't care for lobster or fish of any kind. Glenn's only slightly better, he will eat lobster, but doesn't love it. The boys have never tried seafood and Sean hates everything, so we knew seafood was out of the question. We finally found an overpriced panini/pizza joint that also served cheeseburgers. Everyone was happy. Well as happy as you can be in an overpriced panini/pizza joint. Once we got our tummies filled we drove around the cape a little bit more before heading back towards Boston. We got back to the campground early enough that the boys could spend some time jumping on the giant jumping pillow that are all the rage now at KOAs. Everyone is finally asleep and I should be too. Probably won't have much to blog about tomorrow. It's going to be a quiet day. We are leaving for Maine and Acadia National Park on Tuesday. Looking forward to that. I'll keep you posted.