Disclaimer--I am writing this on Day 4 of Single Momhood with No Kitchen while Sam is backpacking with his brother and friends in northern California for an early 40th birthday present. Yes, my mom is here so I'm technically not alone, and one thing is certain--there's no way my sanity would be preserved if she was not here helping. But, still...I miss Sam, and the boys do, too. Life runs more smoothly when the team is intact. I wrote about my dislike for waking with Kenyon before the 7 o'clock hour in an earlier post, and it is taking its toll. I am now in the throes of perfecting my dislike for living without a kitchen, but I hope this will be a faint, distant dislike very soon. More on that later; I am only mustering up the energy to write about our California trip tonight, although the other camera will undoubtedly have pictures that I will want to share once Sam brings it home. So probably more on this later, too.
We spent a glorious week at Plantation Tree Farm, Sam's dad's property, in northern California. Plantation is my favorite place to be; what could be bad about beautiful swaying redwoods, abundant plants and wildlife, and fantastic people, all nestled amongst the ocean and vineyards? Now that the boys are older (funny how I say that with a 16 month old), we all camped out at High Trees Camp so the adults could more easily enjoy adult beverages together in the evenings.
I put Kenyon to sleep in a pack and play in one of the cabins, and he was so tired each night that he would simply clutch his stuffed bear, turn over and let out a sigh of relief that I was finally going to let him rest. I got to enjoy plenty of time by the campfire with friends, and I plucked him and took him to my tent when I was ready for bed. He did great in the tent as well--never waking up in the night, although I woke up a number of times to make sure he was warm enough, didn't slide off his little pallet I made for him, etc. Then, each morning, at some ungodly hour I groggily opened one eye to see a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed adorable little toddler grinning and saying 'yeah? yeah? yeah?' before hurling his round body onto mine. And then standing to do it again. And again. I know...how is a baby supposed to sleep while the almighty sun is telling him to wake up? Well, here's an idea for all you outdoor products manufacturers reading this blog--make a tent with blackout shades! Sam was in the other tent with the boys, where sleep was more readily available.
Every trip to Plantation is a boyfest; somehow between the Denver Tunheims, the California Tunheims and all of Sam's friends, that crafty Y chromosome managed to sneak its way in during *almost* every conception. On this trip, eight children (aged 6, 5, 5, 4, 18 months, 16 months, 14 months, and 12 months) were feeding chickens and koi; camping in tents; catching snakes, newts, and banana slugs; making s'mores; identifying scat; making water bottle rockets...seven boys, and my just-turned one-year old niece, Celeste.
Jackson holding a snake, with Alex and Sammy feeding the koi with Grandpa Ed
Poor Celeste. Or lucky Celeste. We are all wondering if she will deal with the cloud of testosterone surrounding her by being the ultimate tomboy, or the ultimate princess. Time will tell.
More later...sleep is a precious commodity.