tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58441455214568872102024-03-12T23:26:05.642-07:00OutnumberedWho's in charge here?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01324729309201526017noreply@blogger.comBlogger85125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844145521456887210.post-28821767088425743532016-07-12T14:53:00.001-07:002016-07-13T05:16:32.935-07:00The Olsens South Dakota Adventure<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b>2622.2 miles. </b>The Olsens have returned from our first major family road trip. We covered a lot of ground, going from home in Illinois to the Black Hills of South Dakota. We even took a day trip to Wyoming. Putting five people (and, briefly, one dog) into a van for hours and hours and hours of driving is no small challenge, but we endured and enjoyed. Here's a look at where we went and what we did. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The trip begins: Fun on wheels! </td></tr>
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<b>Day 1: Departure</b>: By breakfast of our kickoff day, our trip was in question as the middle child woke up with a case of strep throat. I knew I should have prohibited all human contact the week before our departure! After a quick trip to the walk-in clinic and the pharmacy for antibiotic, our journey was underway. Anna gets the travel trooper award for hanging in there with the trip plans even when she felt less than great. We spent the night with my folks in <b>Baraboo, Wisconsin</b>. </div>
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<b>Day 2</b>: Baraboo has many charms, but one of our current favorites is the highly affordable cost of dog kenneling! On our way out of town, we left Cleo in the capable hands of Pampered Paws, which gave Anna plenty of back-seat room for stretching out. Then we glanced at the phone's GPS app and saw "399 miles to Mitchell." Ooof. That wasn't even our ultimate destination.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Glorious Spam! </td></tr>
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Our mid-day stop took us to <b>Austin, Minnesota</b>, hometown of Hormel and the Spam Museum. In college days, I had a summer internship at the Austin Daily Herald. I hadn't been back since, so I was eager to see what Austin looks like these days. I was pleased to see the successful renovation of the 1929 <a href="http://www.austinareaarts.org/paramount-about/">Paramount Theater</a>, which was underway while I was there. Another change is the move of the <a href="http://www.spam.com/museum">Spam Museum</a> from the local mall to a prime downtown location. The kids didn't even know what Spam was. Now they do! Even if you aren't a big fan of canned meat, it's worth a stop with kids. Exhibits on Hormel's history and Spam around the world are interesting and a kids play area and Spam "packing" area help work out the travel wiggles. Also, it's a great opportunity to introduce the youth to Monty Python.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yum?</td></tr>
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Our afternoon drive provided us with a look at <b>Welcome, Minnesota</b> when a rest stop was requested not 20 minutes after the previous rest stop, which had taken place shortly after our lunch stop. Lesson learned: If anyone wants to <i>ever</i> get to our destination, use the restroom when we are stopped whether you think you need to or not!<br />
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The first Wall Drug sign was spotted at 3:50 p.m. near Worthington, Minnesota -- 355 miles to Wall.<br />
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Our stop for the night was in <b>Mitchell, South Dakota</b> and it was here that we again wondered if we would be calling off the trip. Anna's fever spiked, but thankfully by morning it had dropped and she was ready to move on.<br />
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<b>Day 3</b>: Where does everyone stop on any trip down Interstate 90? The <b><a href="http://cornpalace.com/27/About-Us">Corn Palace</a></b>, of course. What kind of parents would we be to deprive our offspring of this literal rite of passage? The palace does have hands-on agriculture exhibits for kids in the new Education Center, so there is more to do than just look at the corn murals.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Been farming long? </td></tr>
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Then, there was a lot of driving through this:<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So many hay bales. </td></tr>
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Once we crossed the <b>Missouri River</b>, the sudden sight of dramatic hills prompted Erik to remark, "If the moon was green and had hay bales it would look like this." Well, that is one of the reasons we picked the Badlands. </div>
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Lunch was at the <b>Murdo Drive-In</b>, which was an adorable small-town dinner. I am considering printing and posting this sign from their patio in my kitchen and dining room: </div>
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By early afternoon, we crossed into Mountain Time and made our first tourist stop West River, the scenic overlook of the <b>Buffalo Gap National Grassland</b>. So much space; so much sky! The thing that struck me as we drove through South Dakota was the immense space and how different that space felt from Illinois farmland. As Wisconsin keeps reminding us, Illinois has no shortage of flat land, but Dakota prairie feels different: bigger, wider, more open. It's difficult to convey the sense of size in words. I don't know if its my Dakota ancestors talking, but the open lands west of the Mississippi just feel right. When I'm in downstate Illinois, I miss trees. The farms seem to go on forever and a green river valley is a welcome respite. South Dakota trees are events worthy of celebration, and yet the miles without them aren't really empty. They are just full of a more subtle beauty. And then you get the Badlands. But that comes later. </div>
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One stop soon led to another, the <b>Minuteman Missile National Historic Site</b>. It was sobering to give the kids this introduction to the cold war. Then again, in light of current events, what's a quick explanation of duck and cover? On the lighthearted side, I found another sign I wish to post at home:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpIU-nGlNQKLAkyBkHHUc7FoOV6r7AM0IWbjVslluxMHtRzLutFxK-lK-o8bCiuGoGh5KKoglDA7KEyACTMT4_hJPvaMM2LIo0OQioCyme-AezOZUI6b8of3RNzC_2E7p7TynPIdPHfj7t/s1600/IMG_8630.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpIU-nGlNQKLAkyBkHHUc7FoOV6r7AM0IWbjVslluxMHtRzLutFxK-lK-o8bCiuGoGh5KKoglDA7KEyACTMT4_hJPvaMM2LIo0OQioCyme-AezOZUI6b8of3RNzC_2E7p7TynPIdPHfj7t/s200/IMG_8630.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>
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The Minuteman site was just across I-90 from one of our main destinations: The Badlands. Before we officially entered the National Park site, I wanted to make a stop at <b>Prairie Homestead</b>. I'm fascinated with the history of America's pioneer settlers, even more so when I visit a place like this. The home here is a sod house dug out of a hillside, framed with cottonwood logs for roof beams and its front wall, and sod "bricks" for the side walls. How families lived in a dirty space smaller than my living room for years in the extreme Dakota climate astonishes my suburban sensibilities. I'm proud when my tiny vegetable garden produces one head of broccoli or a few peppers and tomatoes. Homesteaders had to eek out their whole existence from farming on the 160 acres allotted to them. Those "sodbusters" deserve our admiration.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHCOFmKwMoWE4kM4SJHn8YQv7kWjjRuCHmHDabkNQJMtAfNpzn1MUnn-ldHn9Gk4PIj3yBdRgc-MyzH-2HU5fyGP7Hw3YzfoFUmRiBgEEWEBJwb5i4MCtPc5XuUf7sTzVDoqkKMRPiWcHU/s1600/IMG_8632.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHCOFmKwMoWE4kM4SJHn8YQv7kWjjRuCHmHDabkNQJMtAfNpzn1MUnn-ldHn9Gk4PIj3yBdRgc-MyzH-2HU5fyGP7Hw3YzfoFUmRiBgEEWEBJwb5i4MCtPc5XuUf7sTzVDoqkKMRPiWcHU/s400/IMG_8632.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Who wants butter? </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kitchen in a sod house</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Check out those walls! </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG-ZsGeoSBbldjq998irxwixVajVSqSb8mVgiS3wtZEGcE6AAqChk5pnkvL4UmknG4f2vvLWMGPsi7CgCM2CywjY6zoRh7ayHlJFL3iWo-R7UC7Va-Tp-VTlbx-tPPBux8ZK7FOReD-xR9/s1600/IMG_8636.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG-ZsGeoSBbldjq998irxwixVajVSqSb8mVgiS3wtZEGcE6AAqChk5pnkvL4UmknG4f2vvLWMGPsi7CgCM2CywjY6zoRh7ayHlJFL3iWo-R7UC7Va-Tp-VTlbx-tPPBux8ZK7FOReD-xR9/s320/IMG_8636.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's not much for curb appeal, <br />
but a life lived here was impressive all the same.</td></tr>
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Now, on to the <b>Badlands</b>. Being the researcher that I am, I had read books on the Badlands. We watched travel videos and read the brochures. None of that prepares you for a first look at the amazing and erie landscape. The shapes, the colors -- it's a terrain that is otherworldly.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wall isn't just a drug store </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tourist selfie moment</td></tr>
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We wandered a few short trails and peered over some scenic overlooks. Then we kept our views to those from inside the van as our sunny summer day gave way to an ominous storm rolling in. The dark clouds only intensified the moody landscape.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A storm rolls in</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wow! </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lunar landscape? </td></tr>
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After seeing all that natural beauty, we were hungry and what retail colossus was conveniently nearby? <b>Wall Drug</b>, of course. We ate some dinner with our free ice water, did a quick walk through, and then headed for our Rapid City hotel. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Checking out the railroad stuff in Wall Drug's "backyard." </td></tr>
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<b>Day 4: Independence Day</b>: Our 2016 Fourth of July did not include parades and fireworks, but we were patriotic none the less. During the morning we visited the <b>South Dakota Air & Space Museum</b> at Ellsworth Air Force Base. The museum displays an extensive collection of historical aircraft. We also rode a bus on to the air base and the site of the Minuteman II Missile silo. Due to the Independence Day holiday it took longer than usual for the base police to do security screenings on those of taking the tour, which was a reminder that there are enough bad guys in the world to make such things necessary even if the era of imminent nuclear threat has passed.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the S.D. Air & Space Museum</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Future pilot? </td></tr>
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Our mid-day drive took us through part of the <b>Black Hills National Forest </b>and<b> Custer State Park </b>via the<b> Iron Mountain Highway. </b>There are two reasons it takes forever to get anywhere in the Black Hills. One is that there are no straight-line roads. Switchbacks and hairpin curves are constant. Also, because the scenery is so amazing, it's almost impossible not to hop out at every scenic overlook and take in the view.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm fond of things that come in threes.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVjXPXR2y0GXbHUAtMgQXlKsjK7OCnnjELfvp5R0WK0v15TuunQCbMlJVViwjzsNwaGqKjJ95dVC95MiUdZ9qtGZ_rIb5iGhYf2zVqWt4yzAa-plxUXRN_4SoZBe4kk79dACfrQb6XHaVm/s1600/IMG_8677.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVjXPXR2y0GXbHUAtMgQXlKsjK7OCnnjELfvp5R0WK0v15TuunQCbMlJVViwjzsNwaGqKjJ95dVC95MiUdZ9qtGZ_rIb5iGhYf2zVqWt4yzAa-plxUXRN_4SoZBe4kk79dACfrQb6XHaVm/s320/IMG_8677.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our first view of Mt. Rushmore</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mr. Happiness</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happy tourists</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dramatic sky</td></tr>
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Our goal for the day was a visit to <b>Wind Cave National Park</b>. Having toured Wisconsin's Cave of the Mounds in the spring, everyone was eager to see a bigger cave on this trip. Wind Cave did not disappoint. We enjoyed the Natural Entrance Tour, which took us past the breezy opening that gave the cave its name. The kids had no trouble keeping up (or rather down the 300-some steps) on the hour-long tour and enjoyed looking at the "box work" formations on the walls and ceilings. Our little spelunkers would like to see even more caves in the future.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo in a dark cave</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Box work" formations in Wind Cave</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bison in the distance at Wind Cave National Park</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Bison close up at Wind Cave N.P. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All smiles again! </td></tr>
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<b>Day 5</b>: Another day; another state! The two places that Jamieson really wanted to see on this trip were the Badlands and <b>Devil's Tower</b>. That meant a drive into Wyoming. We were blessed with another beautiful day and, finally, a little girl who felt like herself again.<br />
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According to Native American legend, the butte traces its unique size and formations to the day when a boy playing with his sisters suddenly turned into a bear. The seven frightened sisters ran and ran until a tree stump bid them to climb up on it at which point it rose up out of reach of the bear, which scraped the stump with its claws all around. The sisters then became the "Seven Sisters" of the Pleiades stars. Or you could go all geological and just call it an igneous intrusion. Describe its origins however you like, the place is just amazing. From every angle the light changes and gives a different look to the tower. We walked the 1-mile Tower Trail around the its base. Staying on the trail was impossible for the kids who were merely doing what the older mountain climbers above us were doing, conquering the rocks all around.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkewgJERY2j4ir5U9v1HlIassxytx0ve1uuzDpsvHAHcrIvY0yarHmnC5bLiZha4EMHtfUTqWrNTTE3R2qrLUZ4X0aQxkjt24jYOwhp5b-YH83XGWOacStGyQvv3XabSzm0L8S_viv-7ki/s1600/IMG_8730.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkewgJERY2j4ir5U9v1HlIassxytx0ve1uuzDpsvHAHcrIvY0yarHmnC5bLiZha4EMHtfUTqWrNTTE3R2qrLUZ4X0aQxkjt24jYOwhp5b-YH83XGWOacStGyQvv3XabSzm0L8S_viv-7ki/s400/IMG_8730.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nothing says Lutheran school ambassador<br />
like wearing your Immanuel Eagle shirt to Devil's Tower. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrMIETwO5kJXEz-XTI-cmjfIMtMLrsvmuEdmCIlZ5LDukdFYGailtPexBhZgkEnh6CCvVeyQaQ5OiBSMLhIVrUghjU3N5mieZMeayhbPSS0x5TgntUgCpE0LmpJwsGvvI8tPzmhHqQa944/s1600/IMG_8727.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrMIETwO5kJXEz-XTI-cmjfIMtMLrsvmuEdmCIlZ5LDukdFYGailtPexBhZgkEnh6CCvVeyQaQ5OiBSMLhIVrUghjU3N5mieZMeayhbPSS0x5TgntUgCpE0LmpJwsGvvI8tPzmhHqQa944/s640/IMG_8727.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rising from the plains </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2IF0Jzx94vPYYLS-i7wmulZVKH5yAsgh0c3IJBDXtThRFX9408WvIq9e1rRlYEWTex3VbdhxfQ0HRlgyXLhRgVTuaX_KcIitMoVshY9ri1KYn64iBvLxK3G2QknTvRQ5o3OCmtg6e1hsI/s1600/IMG_8740.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2IF0Jzx94vPYYLS-i7wmulZVKH5yAsgh0c3IJBDXtThRFX9408WvIq9e1rRlYEWTex3VbdhxfQ0HRlgyXLhRgVTuaX_KcIitMoVshY9ri1KYn64iBvLxK3G2QknTvRQ5o3OCmtg6e1hsI/s320/IMG_8740.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Again with the selfie attempt</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgjOm_CLieOIVszgwQfAJevQiV8KOPwfsNm2fze11Ln8vHq0IxI3qWAstRzbQ973GNNALc9CmQ0pO5Ue5RvCw7qbj0hYlGYtlJW_aaIP_rMYL_UYDBGLFGXEx9qnHLeiX6r2pSlZnTsGX0/s1600/IMG_8742.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgjOm_CLieOIVszgwQfAJevQiV8KOPwfsNm2fze11Ln8vHq0IxI3qWAstRzbQ973GNNALc9CmQ0pO5Ue5RvCw7qbj0hYlGYtlJW_aaIP_rMYL_UYDBGLFGXEx9qnHLeiX6r2pSlZnTsGX0/s320/IMG_8742.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just one victor in the "This rock is mine!" competition </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Squeak! (But don't touch!<br />
Apparently these cuties bite<br />
and spread the Plague. Yikes!)</td></tr>
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Aside from the geological wonders of the Black Hills, the local fauna captured everyone's attention, too. A particular favorite were the prairie dog towns at all the national parks. When visiting family in Baraboo, we enjoy looking at the prairie dogs of Ochsner Park Zoo, but the vast size of a natural prairie dog town is an entirely different experience. For one thing, zoo prairie dogs are a well-fed lot, much rounder than those out in the wild. Their heads popping up and down in their tunnel doors remind me of a game of whack-a-mole, but these little guys are desperately trying not to become lunch for the local predators.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9O-BmonZp5t3ebWxdtxuIg-vpumNcPwODxCHSHZY1Bn7SkhC86xFU-QmzsCn790ACIPNUmgIelFWWQjSpJxGk_XTnBBIeYQjoAi6D6eXRf9EsqjVuB2jXB058suartLO4_8Q3AJ40fZOn/s1600/IMG_8749.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9O-BmonZp5t3ebWxdtxuIg-vpumNcPwODxCHSHZY1Bn7SkhC86xFU-QmzsCn790ACIPNUmgIelFWWQjSpJxGk_XTnBBIeYQjoAi6D6eXRf9EsqjVuB2jXB058suartLO4_8Q3AJ40fZOn/s400/IMG_8749.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking at the prairie dogs.<br />
(And look at that red earth on the hills!) </td></tr>
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I should also mention that we saved no small amount of money visiting national parks on this trip thanks to the <a href="https://everykidinapark.gov/">Every Kid in a Park</a> pass that Erik got just for being a fourth grader this past school year. Admission to the parks was free for the whole family thanks to his having picked up his pass in the spring during his class trip to Lincoln's Springfield Home. According the the program website, incoming fourth graders will be able to pick up their passes in September. Do it! It's a cliche to say these parks are a national treasure, but they absolutely are. No theme park could ever be as amazing as just an hour or two experiencing America's history and its natural beauty.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcFuCXWh89MCAHtlCzRBhyphenhyphennsP4_Nhk89EIVNvAx-nYn5diL55btLmPzUokTwrtLfA-gxiBDfrGsGfmoE04rGVzwS8nIXPcadQCp-XkT9u5U6dkmvFIGRTZPnVgI0Z7wPJg8p6qINtH5HtF/s1600/IMG_8756.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcFuCXWh89MCAHtlCzRBhyphenhyphennsP4_Nhk89EIVNvAx-nYn5diL55btLmPzUokTwrtLfA-gxiBDfrGsGfmoE04rGVzwS8nIXPcadQCp-XkT9u5U6dkmvFIGRTZPnVgI0Z7wPJg8p6qINtH5HtF/s400/IMG_8756.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leaving Devil's Tower</td></tr>
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There are some vacations that are about relaxing: grabbing a book and a chair by a calm body of water and enjoying the peace. There are other trips that are about seeing and doing. This week fell into the second category, that of cramming as much into each day as we possibly could. So, on our return from Wyoming we detoured off our familiar roadway friend Interstate 90 and meandered down the <b>Spearfish Canyon Scenic Byway</b>. Worth it. So worth it.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bridal Veil Falls. <br />
We stopped here to wade thorough the creek and see the falls up close.<br />
It was beautiful but oh, so cold! </td></tr>
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Spearfish Canyon and Icebox Canyon (my still-frosty toes attested to the veracity of that name) took us to the town of Lead. This was one of those places that I wish we had included more time to explore. Erik would have enjoyed touring the mining museum and I had hoped we could have taken the surface tour of the Homestake Gold Mine. Reasons for making a return trip are many, though, and we enjoyed what we could.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Open Cut" at Homestake Mine </td></tr>
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The gold mine at Lead is now the site of Sanford Lab. Hmm. Particle physics happening under ground near herds of bison. No wonder we felt so at home here.<br />
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Any disappointment the kids felt for missing a mine tour was made up for with the opportunity to climb through the engines that pulled mining cars through their under-ground tunnels. No steam engine, these guys. To cut down on the underground pollution, engines like those pictured here were powered by compressed air. A lot of it.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Take my picture on the train!"</td></tr>
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So, the kids like trains. No secret there. Imagine their delight, then, when we discovered the Lead roundhouse had become <a href="https://homestakechophouse.com/">Homestake Chop House</a>. This was not some kiddie train dinner; it is a gorgeous historical building reimagined as a site for "fine casual dining." We ate in a recreated train car, but it looked like it had just rolled off the luxury line at the Pullman factory, complete with stained-glass and wood paneling. The main room lights were crystal chandeliers. The restrooms had glass knobs and marble counters. Beautiful. And dinner was tasty, too!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Outside Homesteak Chop House</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The kids are cute, but look at that glass! </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">... and the chandeliers!</td></tr>
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But wait! The railroads helped settle the West. So the train love just kept coming. We wandered through nearby <b>Deadwood</b> after dinner and found the best way to spend a dollar in that gambling town: 10 minutes of model railroad operation thanks to the extensive layout of the Northern Hills Railway Society. Located in the basement of a souvenir and motorcycle apparel shop (we <i>were</i> near Sturgis), were were treated to an 80-foot display of HO-scale scenes. Good times.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvJ1XCs8lGsSo8A7x5ScqwF8aV2tkbNyJUOXk8GV3SgJjLj2mIAn5VREvbKzJ2ACHsp9h7agIS5QcLXQMUbQ9Thznx7pkQHXM2LnUT-lCHgMvzBFzhSaj3i4c4SdHmJCSuplNSrYLSNYPB/s1600/IMG_8809.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvJ1XCs8lGsSo8A7x5ScqwF8aV2tkbNyJUOXk8GV3SgJjLj2mIAn5VREvbKzJ2ACHsp9h7agIS5QcLXQMUbQ9Thznx7pkQHXM2LnUT-lCHgMvzBFzhSaj3i4c4SdHmJCSuplNSrYLSNYPB/s320/IMG_8809.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Possibly the only good reason to take a kid to Deadwood</td></tr>
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<b>Day 6: 1880 Train</b>. Like I said, the Olsen kids like trains. (Well, the boys do and our young artist puts up with it.) The best railroad destination in the Black Hills is the 1880 Train. We have taken a lot of tourist train rides. This one may be the best. It's a two-hour experience for the round-trip ride. We went from <b>Keystone</b> to Hill City and back, but you can start at either end. The route is that of a former mining train, so it's a happy coincidence that what was constructed for industrial use happens to wind through the beauty of Black Hills National Forest. The rolling stock, as the train folks say, is a sight to behold, too. Old pieces have been restored masterfully and new cars, such as the carriage we rode in on our return trip, have been constructed with amazing attention to detail.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Love this happy picture of my boys</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We were in the second car from the engine.<br />
The train whistle was LOUD. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So much to see</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hill City stop of the 1880 Train</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdewAdt8O3jZCXU5voVQHRBbMYYoE21tvSd50KriKIB0tOaHLIBO33vnk95b9IOa5n6Avm0QF12Cc9iz3puOvDwdY3UPC-CQEZgAbZ_vkvzZxoeaxVWdUKaRo_H8by6tpFL1w89-YDcvgM/s1600/IMG_8833.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdewAdt8O3jZCXU5voVQHRBbMYYoE21tvSd50KriKIB0tOaHLIBO33vnk95b9IOa5n6Avm0QF12Cc9iz3puOvDwdY3UPC-CQEZgAbZ_vkvzZxoeaxVWdUKaRo_H8by6tpFL1w89-YDcvgM/s400/IMG_8833.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There is nothing that makes Erik happier than being around trains.<br />
(Except maybe Legos, especially Lego trains...) </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqz8QCe-JkvXjbENgYXCrJNaeHHdjuhQoUlcqXie03Nsyb3ZZhLV32sAHk6BskfHYl0nXj4UQGBhussdnqCMSObQ3wx4NP0dpZoABB-0G3zVvpVCqYfdL9SCfFyHLq0E72yrFMyLOP2hqA/s1600/IMG_8837.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqz8QCe-JkvXjbENgYXCrJNaeHHdjuhQoUlcqXie03Nsyb3ZZhLV32sAHk6BskfHYl0nXj4UQGBhussdnqCMSObQ3wx4NP0dpZoABB-0G3zVvpVCqYfdL9SCfFyHLq0E72yrFMyLOP2hqA/s400/IMG_8837.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A steam engine needs water</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8-5PF8Sl1CbrIG3GaKLi327FgzJafZqbRSw20W7lQ8541niRdK-4O6C77JJt4DBN9PgtAiRCwJNvZ67ZgMu6ADRl2En-wa7aXBCLhfeEzauwz-lQy7mcKntU9OuF0yCbr5qfV9QeLw08x/s1600/IMG_8842.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8-5PF8Sl1CbrIG3GaKLi327FgzJafZqbRSw20W7lQ8541niRdK-4O6C77JJt4DBN9PgtAiRCwJNvZ67ZgMu6ADRl2En-wa7aXBCLhfeEzauwz-lQy7mcKntU9OuF0yCbr5qfV9QeLw08x/s320/IMG_8842.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trains are fun for girls, too</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlw3VZig9rI-rWJ4ivp-hzhAxVOT91Pn69L_q6jblhbSK94qYNYIg8lQro1IKjNfV3-lEPXY5ooVfQHcPXsLN7HU6sJDO6yLsy9Nfz8dq3ReoqRoF2QQupIiKT6C45ZUnI2WHgZOGuR7kb/s1600/IMG_8862.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlw3VZig9rI-rWJ4ivp-hzhAxVOT91Pn69L_q6jblhbSK94qYNYIg8lQro1IKjNfV3-lEPXY5ooVfQHcPXsLN7HU6sJDO6yLsy9Nfz8dq3ReoqRoF2QQupIiKT6C45ZUnI2WHgZOGuR7kb/s400/IMG_8862.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On our return trip to Keystone we were in the last seats of the last car, <br />
which happened to be a beautiful place to be.<br />
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A certain boy in our group would have stayed at the Keystone station and rode the train again and again, but that was not to be. Instead we headed to our other Keystone stop, <b>Mt. Rushmore</b>.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPAzTrgBIRVR1I3hryyct5Y0RwwmxVEO_czjGi1n0kyO83zeyBaBkNFwhnuvHOYqLRxhXmVQHib1hzZoqgKIVRtBbpv5wvFyRtJqIjcXxt4yIGuMqrnRMAzz7XcW-Gj49_Sy6dMDMidumx/s1600/IMG_8872.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPAzTrgBIRVR1I3hryyct5Y0RwwmxVEO_czjGi1n0kyO83zeyBaBkNFwhnuvHOYqLRxhXmVQHib1hzZoqgKIVRtBbpv5wvFyRtJqIjcXxt4yIGuMqrnRMAzz7XcW-Gj49_Sy6dMDMidumx/s400/IMG_8872.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some memorable Americans </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimsq4ZlgTmSFpfx4YBTH9bfVpFLascikGoQ3HXG96VfaaEeefwbl7SGKdjhyet0ETv0w83aZ7oEHSizC4gWmML67gt14tOEkuvf5oc_28s8qvQALemJZlhyyOR2W68t7AoERVjPInSGDb4/s1600/IMG_8875.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimsq4ZlgTmSFpfx4YBTH9bfVpFLascikGoQ3HXG96VfaaEeefwbl7SGKdjhyet0ETv0w83aZ7oEHSizC4gWmML67gt14tOEkuvf5oc_28s8qvQALemJZlhyyOR2W68t7AoERVjPInSGDb4/s320/IMG_8875.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't blink</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The regal Miss Anna</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkciYUTOwPJ-ayoVCzjHNXFle5XSbsA7g8YVj5L0s2ewPVFXTCOHHZ6e5Xek9ulk5iB-Juw4DqIqkhFmvl3EJ9abjwvJADKp__C2WEb2N3Z4hTqdpvdz9fqB1FgOXpahYxrJzq3fk6G2QN/s1600/IMG_8881.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkciYUTOwPJ-ayoVCzjHNXFle5XSbsA7g8YVj5L0s2ewPVFXTCOHHZ6e5Xek9ulk5iB-Juw4DqIqkhFmvl3EJ9abjwvJADKp__C2WEb2N3Z4hTqdpvdz9fqB1FgOXpahYxrJzq3fk6G2QN/s400/IMG_8881.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Someday, we will get a good portrait of the five of us.<br />
This was not that day. </td></tr>
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<b>Day 7: Rapid City wrap up</b>. By Thursday, we had seen the major sites on our to-do list, but there were a few more locations that needed checking out. Ever since our first cave visit a few months ago, all the kids have become amateur rock collectors, so we made a visit to the <b>Museum of Geology</b> at the South Dakota School of Mines & Technology. It's a little old fashioned in a thing-in-a-case with a label kind of way, but I was pleasantly surprised to see everyone taking in the fossil and mineral collection in an ernest way. It was a good way to spend an hour -- and free!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gold from them thar hills</td></tr>
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Once upon a time in an enchanted land called the Wisconsin Dells, there was an attraction called <a href="https://www.facebook.com/StorybookGardens/">Storybook Gardens</a>. Two visitors to this magical land were youngsters named Christine and Jamieson who in later years discovered similar pictures of themselves at the Three Bears home in family photo albums. Alas, the gardens closed five years ago before the Olsen kids had a chance to experience it for themselves. Imagine the joy to discover a similar site in Rapid City: <a href="http://storybookisland.org/index.php/about-us">Storybook Island</a>.<br />
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<b>Storybook Island </b>is the playground of kids' dreams: endless structures to climb, buildings to explore, and favorite characters to greet. It's also a place where adults wonder where children acquire their boundless energy!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Several Dalmatians and three kids</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPaPV4NrDEnEWJ-rSUc46lIa6uQrAsPFu8_5pSFtwWIUX9phtxvTs5-JDzCo2ZG-OKTj3xSY91jBEdhD57mLHRVb9zsWWU9ei9eIz5UmF2W2Vyqgv7bCgb917vZk9p0e7H17Nmd5gGzLRt/s1600/IMG_8891.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPaPV4NrDEnEWJ-rSUc46lIa6uQrAsPFu8_5pSFtwWIUX9phtxvTs5-JDzCo2ZG-OKTj3xSY91jBEdhD57mLHRVb9zsWWU9ei9eIz5UmF2W2Vyqgv7bCgb917vZk9p0e7H17Nmd5gGzLRt/s400/IMG_8891.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hangin' with The Cat</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh, look! Olsen kids on a train ride. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This park has been open since 1959.<br />
Some features have aged better than others. </td></tr>
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It was with much reluctance that the kids allowed themselves to be removed from the island of fun. We had a few more fiberglass creatures to encounter when we stopped for a picnic lunch under the life-size residents of <b>Dinosaur Park</b>. Good views, but we wished we had just stopped in the visitor center for a 99 cent hot dog instead of getting lunch stuff from the local Safeway. Live and learn.<br />
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Before we said goodbye to Rapid City, we decided to end with a final ride through Custer State Park, this time along the famed Needles Highway and Wildlife Loop roads. Again, it was a long, long drive, but one with countless astonishing views and many scenic spots to park and explore.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Is it gold? </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A little more rock climbing</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"W" </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some of the "needles" </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I've always wanted a my own camper.<br />
Not here. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tatanka!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHC2dm3gH_bbfMlmu-ceRGeCcJTcq06h1KvqQj7FEZ9F3Rcx1Ur0AmtSeqKSlmy7Zuhws5SuWa8dtPp9Cd-iIJ3Ld9wFa2HrALHKsHLFgEXiatJTBxPIXkIBzTphSArntNYQW95b1tRxp5/s1600/IMG_8923.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHC2dm3gH_bbfMlmu-ceRGeCcJTcq06h1KvqQj7FEZ9F3Rcx1Ur0AmtSeqKSlmy7Zuhws5SuWa8dtPp9Cd-iIJ3Ld9wFa2HrALHKsHLFgEXiatJTBxPIXkIBzTphSArntNYQW95b1tRxp5/s320/IMG_8923.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Burro hanging out along the Wildlife Loop</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8xQ9cAhGV084Dl1AQheuZa8oC4Y9CIrbbkwwWjetu0zi-mBFufDCNrqYMETpcuWu8iizaFiV1SDZgdsXlNhKP7DuRHcHpd4YIXIvT4Ia1I_8RBHnmwYggCYJ5LnKwBDIH3s8r9i8uagn0/s1600/IMG_8927.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8xQ9cAhGV084Dl1AQheuZa8oC4Y9CIrbbkwwWjetu0zi-mBFufDCNrqYMETpcuWu8iizaFiV1SDZgdsXlNhKP7DuRHcHpd4YIXIvT4Ia1I_8RBHnmwYggCYJ5LnKwBDIH3s8r9i8uagn0/s400/IMG_8927.jpg" width="336" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It looks like my kids are doing a laying on of hands prayer over this burro. <br />
It could only help. This old guy looks like he's been around since gold was discovered. </td></tr>
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No animal herds surrounded our van on the drive, but we saw plenty of critters along the way: more prairie dogs, "lesser" chipmunks, deer, pronghorns, bison, burros, deer, and a turkey.<br />
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<b>Day 8: Heading East</b>. We ate our final continental breakfast at ye olde EconoLodge (which was clean, friendly, and included a great water slide) and began the east-bound trek. Somehow by lunchtime we found ourselves again near Mitchell. Did you know there's more to do in Mitchell, S.D. than look at the Corn Palace? Are you beside yourself with amazement that we found a restaurant in a train depot? Me, neither. <b>The Depot</b> -- friendly staff, cool building, working rail yard -- worth a stop.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Good food. Good trains. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mitchell, more than just corn. </td></tr>
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Our very last sightseeing stop was a bit off the I-90 trail, but it was somewhere I had always wanted to visit: the<a href="http://www.ingallshomestead.com/"> <b>Ingalls' Homestead</b></a>. You know I'm fascinated with pioneer life, and that has everything to do with my mom reading <i>Little House in the Big Woods</i> to me when I was a little girl. I have read and re-read every book written by Laura Ingalls Wilder, even the travel logs. I've read the first few <i>Little House</i> books to my kids. Last year I devoured the <i>Pioneer Girl</i> manuscript. Seeing Laura's homesites has been on my travel bucket list before anyone had a "bucket list." The Ingalls Homestead recreates their shanty home on the site it stood and presents other buildings of the pioneer era. It's not unlike many living history farms that give modern visitors a look at agricultural life, tools and structures of years gone by. Yet standing under the sky and on the land that I had inhabited so many times before in my imagination made it a much richer experience.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Laura's Living Prairie"</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Go west, young man! </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another example of a sod house.<br />
(I think I can now make peace with my thinning carpet back home.)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMDqeoKvgeqC3SjKNHAnU5CwuCsEpAD14GJ61I0ZxSyTk3ORbvcd436rPg9oksCAoSHZh6v7gJCfkrT9lm2OD6-YZ7oLdUF5dS7vVc8LRLq6PUqLUiXPLPOjiRdWjo28kKGaGY_10qzu_p/s1600/IMG_8944.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMDqeoKvgeqC3SjKNHAnU5CwuCsEpAD14GJ61I0ZxSyTk3ORbvcd436rPg9oksCAoSHZh6v7gJCfkrT9lm2OD6-YZ7oLdUF5dS7vVc8LRLq6PUqLUiXPLPOjiRdWjo28kKGaGY_10qzu_p/s400/IMG_8944.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I used to think living with paneling and wallpaper was a housing challenge. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_3tyRJkHRWwfE1nvo8yeclEpPqP8OKF9eXaSymNKG-5PbmfpQGGcA71nLJOMEI_os9e-n3vxtcjsMt9-dUlsmqYtiD2FFTnY-hk5gBbS5k-bEvgK-_PoP6v3ZKqOqRMmA5RgALzaWhH5Z/s1600/IMG_8946.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_3tyRJkHRWwfE1nvo8yeclEpPqP8OKF9eXaSymNKG-5PbmfpQGGcA71nLJOMEI_os9e-n3vxtcjsMt9-dUlsmqYtiD2FFTnY-hk5gBbS5k-bEvgK-_PoP6v3ZKqOqRMmA5RgALzaWhH5Z/s320/IMG_8946.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Doing chores is such a grind.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipkHTdN1Pct4VUv_YNIk5NYxQv_xDKLHtxLwAhsGtA0_G7Disnuujvac9zgpzVoC1MmG3XQBmoernUqWoQ9W5Bi5d_Vsw4UYtNGacmacw8kjBtwEQfpFU83Oa6yJk2ecre9XnCShE34bLn/s1600/IMG_8948.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipkHTdN1Pct4VUv_YNIk5NYxQv_xDKLHtxLwAhsGtA0_G7Disnuujvac9zgpzVoC1MmG3XQBmoernUqWoQ9W5Bi5d_Vsw4UYtNGacmacw8kjBtwEQfpFU83Oa6yJk2ecre9XnCShE34bLn/s400/IMG_8948.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cottonwood trees planted by Pa Ingalls</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0ELdl2n3j65wf7mvlfExczTARssGY-fGTUO0FVBGIrGAzsBClvhh0D_S8Pj5wL0K390NS6R1z-OFsqJhaQS5I0xDQcz16ughVwJZU5X3y_wBXZZz0VFI0HKBdXfm2PLZcGVNWx-V2rtOC/s1600/IMG_8953.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0ELdl2n3j65wf7mvlfExczTARssGY-fGTUO0FVBGIrGAzsBClvhh0D_S8Pj5wL0K390NS6R1z-OFsqJhaQS5I0xDQcz16ughVwJZU5X3y_wBXZZz0VFI0HKBdXfm2PLZcGVNWx-V2rtOC/s320/IMG_8953.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">To you this is a picture of horse butts.<br />
To me this is the team my daughter drove.<br />
She was the first child to volunteer to drive, too!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-ttWtWCbYGKeYeVCPbgIItEKCZeCvSD_VTZC_aru3rAN5vISehMH4P4kR7kp2Ihq2bOpCaf5SjQyDKztW_YXDvFK9kk_IqX3iy4BhPmpE-qkLupo7XpTxmRQlMjZLAGY7eXJtf-IWHzQp/s1600/IMG_8958.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-ttWtWCbYGKeYeVCPbgIItEKCZeCvSD_VTZC_aru3rAN5vISehMH4P4kR7kp2Ihq2bOpCaf5SjQyDKztW_YXDvFK9kk_IqX3iy4BhPmpE-qkLupo7XpTxmRQlMjZLAGY7eXJtf-IWHzQp/s400/IMG_8958.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Making a baling twine rope</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5WfReoHbqyL5OHpABai-DoVoJAhRpNu2egXsCQLm46NkOlU13xtyzqUz1kotaxFy_51u28yj6d8OdfChyphenhyphenwmhyphenhyphenN8fW7yItpKdvx0u6T9tyY9rVjeOcG4fXXVxLCDX8AyQNurOUKd1_hXUD/s1600/IMG_8962.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5WfReoHbqyL5OHpABai-DoVoJAhRpNu2egXsCQLm46NkOlU13xtyzqUz1kotaxFy_51u28yj6d8OdfChyphenhyphenwmhyphenhyphenN8fW7yItpKdvx0u6T9tyY9rVjeOcG4fXXVxLCDX8AyQNurOUKd1_hXUD/s400/IMG_8962.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ma Ingalls is my housework hero. </td></tr>
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Maybe we could learn to be a little more self-sufficient. Chores appear to be very interesting when Mom isn't assigning them.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUVSCfKpGy66aOUAFHzjWCHGe3aHoe6XhiOaQ8Cn-xrUMNyXsviNhRzDF4u6tOcvwY39Y20VjnRiFo4DH-WrJTIjmGbZQxosZAa-JtUFvN83aWWkNkV36RiExkwdasoQDZaR-piiFlcXKV/s1600/IMG_8965.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUVSCfKpGy66aOUAFHzjWCHGe3aHoe6XhiOaQ8Cn-xrUMNyXsviNhRzDF4u6tOcvwY39Y20VjnRiFo4DH-WrJTIjmGbZQxosZAa-JtUFvN83aWWkNkV36RiExkwdasoQDZaR-piiFlcXKV/s400/IMG_8965.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sewing with the foot pedal</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirI46CekOOsInbcBbBKoNJSVIDoQxIBLcG_bzrk_1PwewYzv4NXb0igT9XaiGyUMRkuWX6_rr1M7lfsXNIrX30dO17V7w6M-9A9F9xqbQzkpYK9Fz2tErPw7hykIqfihStu0MEFiKVkZK-/s1600/IMG_8969.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirI46CekOOsInbcBbBKoNJSVIDoQxIBLcG_bzrk_1PwewYzv4NXb0igT9XaiGyUMRkuWX6_rr1M7lfsXNIrX30dO17V7w6M-9A9F9xqbQzkpYK9Fz2tErPw7hykIqfihStu0MEFiKVkZK-/s400/IMG_8969.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mowing lawn.<br />
(We have one of these. <br />
Time to get it out of the shed!)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpYYoVB7xnYO8RnOnYDSEnGqrdMDbDS-VvrbbbudlXOWMaAFxwrwruPBfxbpzh8EFgszqPNDZ5NdKLGQC96-NymN_CBkFgas_xXcgDn025Zyk4vognecviUvooj3R1KxyQqWaZVbj2mn5L/s1600/IMG_8970.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpYYoVB7xnYO8RnOnYDSEnGqrdMDbDS-VvrbbbudlXOWMaAFxwrwruPBfxbpzh8EFgszqPNDZ5NdKLGQC96-NymN_CBkFgas_xXcgDn025Zyk4vognecviUvooj3R1KxyQqWaZVbj2mn5L/s400/IMG_8970.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Washing clothes</td></tr>
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We have a dog. We are DOG people. Apparently, my children didn't get the memo. These kitties could not have gotten more love:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsTPd1zNGaCRs7D_tA28YZOMHZm8dk31Sv_FW4yT6jJjV_SRMOqV1oq54w0HSI-Ue9lh1Ys98Htp5GX3d0NijCy7OJFZvPj5mGLzKdcaftJpQZPwLh0fkOfZr4sVIpbrV26LJoUaaX99yO/s1600/IMG_8975.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsTPd1zNGaCRs7D_tA28YZOMHZm8dk31Sv_FW4yT6jJjV_SRMOqV1oq54w0HSI-Ue9lh1Ys98Htp5GX3d0NijCy7OJFZvPj5mGLzKdcaftJpQZPwLh0fkOfZr4sVIpbrV26LJoUaaX99yO/s400/IMG_8975.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLBZlw5o_PXDUvormYbv7lrWSLGtswnYe-X49_YQSFwopH_slX98wSI__gZqy2PGGzD3d5ml8pToTm3udS2t1s45lTSUyQE1_jY_pDwU9npHmBSmwTb7Joh3yqUlJ9H7nRYu7zkDVlYe0A/s1600/IMG_8976.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLBZlw5o_PXDUvormYbv7lrWSLGtswnYe-X49_YQSFwopH_slX98wSI__gZqy2PGGzD3d5ml8pToTm3udS2t1s45lTSUyQE1_jY_pDwU9npHmBSmwTb7Joh3yqUlJ9H7nRYu7zkDVlYe0A/s400/IMG_8976.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn5LDcRlpvx-Gv_vKG357MSPoG5FtLWfhdSyfnWdwXrfrkA-dPMkFDR1IKbrd4mgDOkdd2665BGvPEWe61RF4c1OkpkS4Pk61o-uBN3oEop6XeZf315ftmUnGsvcU5wCmQUGGTWsUIHB7I/s1600/IMG_8985.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn5LDcRlpvx-Gv_vKG357MSPoG5FtLWfhdSyfnWdwXrfrkA-dPMkFDR1IKbrd4mgDOkdd2665BGvPEWe61RF4c1OkpkS4Pk61o-uBN3oEop6XeZf315ftmUnGsvcU5wCmQUGGTWsUIHB7I/s400/IMG_8985.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Himself, waiting for a pony cart ride</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivcj4_RJ24AGGaXNtVkp1AnqPxYNs7ZDujXwaIlSlhBWkmrGNnt3M8htkt8Jh2atFAoyN7UsIKJrD0KeIlVfxGACx2QIsvWF_pWdW2ybSnFPJGNhlAvsb1dzTtBa49AMZrzrzgdlxtNu4u/s1600/IMG_8988.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivcj4_RJ24AGGaXNtVkp1AnqPxYNs7ZDujXwaIlSlhBWkmrGNnt3M8htkt8Jh2atFAoyN7UsIKJrD0KeIlVfxGACx2QIsvWF_pWdW2ybSnFPJGNhlAvsb1dzTtBa49AMZrzrzgdlxtNu4u/s400/IMG_8988.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This little guy thought Erik had a tasty shirt.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHlifw1jCfQM0y6ToJ_U5AgQkoXoNALrDz6Tv5GjrIUXJdidmsW_C1qsjom-UtWfVjMBcDRoUTn5_f6rDHO1J4u0K7PIoPI29PrBkhAsyA3aI_PjK-qbjqJWbufYAP-lzUWY5qwbhU0ik9/s1600/IMG_8996.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHlifw1jCfQM0y6ToJ_U5AgQkoXoNALrDz6Tv5GjrIUXJdidmsW_C1qsjom-UtWfVjMBcDRoUTn5_f6rDHO1J4u0K7PIoPI29PrBkhAsyA3aI_PjK-qbjqJWbufYAP-lzUWY5qwbhU0ik9/s400/IMG_8996.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The prairie suits them. At least, it gives them enough space to run! </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJdnG1sIKTEhNwRZOrLK7Eg8PgzJLy6FQ93NQME3in8jJ1G7RS3w6HzRq4XAd5CO0M5Qds3SgM-a35Y3Ghtm3xeMbd5fDCMNDN6_R9pyIwMJhcg4Ft0iYfDZmFjgA0FPNhHd9Stdi3uttQ/s1600/IMG_8992.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJdnG1sIKTEhNwRZOrLK7Eg8PgzJLy6FQ93NQME3in8jJ1G7RS3w6HzRq4XAd5CO0M5Qds3SgM-a35Y3Ghtm3xeMbd5fDCMNDN6_R9pyIwMJhcg4Ft0iYfDZmFjgA0FPNhHd9Stdi3uttQ/s400/IMG_8992.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Time to head home</td></tr>
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I hope it's not morbid to include this picture of the Ingalls' graves. We stopped at the cemetery on the way out of town, following the signs pointing the way for folks like us. The graves are shady and peaceful, surrounded by farm fields and grazing cattle. It felt like the right place to rest after a lifetime of hard work. Thanks to Laura's books, her parents and sisters are remembered as a people who worked hard and valued the land and its people. They will not be forgotten. Neither will the quiet histories of so many other pioneer ancestors thanks to the appreciation for their stories sparked by those <i>Little House</i> books.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGQW0cB54zbd_E-bSvwI5srZAUtlOvpO07DWAWg_-DgoE-CAK3pv4Ocmrl0mxsaaVHjR2T9W2vpuyQYf32dO_gYSlKcuVmRpEHjLw7putfsldm3oUtWrulfUfFyKkd62Fys6yHWdS-EOJP/s1600/IMG_9005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGQW0cB54zbd_E-bSvwI5srZAUtlOvpO07DWAWg_-DgoE-CAK3pv4Ocmrl0mxsaaVHjR2T9W2vpuyQYf32dO_gYSlKcuVmRpEHjLw7putfsldm3oUtWrulfUfFyKkd62Fys6yHWdS-EOJP/s400/IMG_9005.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In this plot rest Charles and Caroline Ingalls, <br />
sisters Mary, Carrie and Grace Ingalls, <br />
as well as Laura and Almanzo Wilder's baby son.</td></tr>
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So, our trip came to an end. We spent a last night on the road in Madison, S. D. then drove all the way home the following day. Waking up in South Dakota, then driving through Minnesota, Wisconsin and then home to Illinois makes for one long day. We stopped in Baraboo again to share some of our travel stories with Grandma and Grandpa, then picked up our Cleo-dog and pressed on for home.<br />
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By quarter to nine Saturday evening we walked in our own door. After living out of hotel rooms and viewing cabins and sod homes, our own dear homestead seemed so spacious and inviting. We didn't miss the midwestern humidity, but it was good to be back.<br />
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Thank you for a great week, South Dakota!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heading off into the sunset</td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01324729309201526017noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844145521456887210.post-6038995319752633652016-06-23T08:26:00.001-07:002016-06-23T08:26:42.199-07:00Waterfall Glen<b>Darien, IL</b> -- For a Father's Day outing, we spent the afternoon at <a href="http://dupageforest.com/Conservation/Forest_Preserves/Waterfall_Glen.aspx">Waterfall Glen </a>Forest Preserve for a hike. (This came after a very enjoyable meal at the <a href="http://www.chickenbasket.com/">Chicken Basket</a>.) We parked at Bluff Road and Cass Avenue and followed the main trail to the Scenic Overlook and then returned. It was a hike of more than five miles on a day that reached 90. Thankfully, the humidity was low. The kids did great. There was minimal complaining and everyone kept up. Starting the walk with a dip by the waterfall and seeing a freight train from the overlook made it a fun route. Here are few peeks at our trek:<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We forgot to bring the water shoes, <br />but that didn't keep this guy out of the water.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climbing the falls</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4aH7fVVpSaRtTvSktElf8MljynX28KfhH8A3A0aDekaFNvRHjZuRt3PIkmJO6W1uJXYYYo1ZsAEq3YM9ZMwjGw_gAlXXWS5bXJgkjjfUIQq2ehRHLIRlNEJZ2kqw2c59awO4rq12GtHhQ/s1600/IMG_8544.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4aH7fVVpSaRtTvSktElf8MljynX28KfhH8A3A0aDekaFNvRHjZuRt3PIkmJO6W1uJXYYYo1ZsAEq3YM9ZMwjGw_gAlXXWS5bXJgkjjfUIQq2ehRHLIRlNEJZ2kqw2c59awO4rq12GtHhQ/s400/IMG_8544.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A dragonfly landed on his hat! </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Any day spent playing in water is a good day</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dad and his very damp kids</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjMH9mt11mCgPeZ95A_iS5oPmnaIwkHIaryNxU29Bx0sb5zXIx6jkiwcD5z5GMgO-PuOlFFCZ6As7ixaHBF93IBl2TBMxknAUF5eopD8N1MBoISHJqJczOl0BxmzBQa1odHm2dPCjzXOvt/s1600/IMG_8555.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjMH9mt11mCgPeZ95A_iS5oPmnaIwkHIaryNxU29Bx0sb5zXIx6jkiwcD5z5GMgO-PuOlFFCZ6As7ixaHBF93IBl2TBMxknAUF5eopD8N1MBoISHJqJczOl0BxmzBQa1odHm2dPCjzXOvt/s400/IMG_8555.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Why did the millipede cross the road? </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happy Father's Day from the crawdads!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old Lincoln Park Nursery </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Selfie time!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Watching a freight train from the Scenic Overlook</td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01324729309201526017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844145521456887210.post-69259888783622687792015-11-11T19:58:00.001-08:002015-11-11T19:58:50.111-08:00Painting: Day 2, More Blue!<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL-XTJkeoytNttOgBlGSEFd5Zmd_1leGMzAshs1ItJXhg2ewUiVYIiILtmjra92uYVFDCIx_8hlPqUVerjsY0HJgkOj-ju0Jpcup9O7TsSNGdWyJ_Q13UHsgTDsSExH7XBSE-Z1bM3O127/s1600/IMG_6995.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL-XTJkeoytNttOgBlGSEFd5Zmd_1leGMzAshs1ItJXhg2ewUiVYIiILtmjra92uYVFDCIx_8hlPqUVerjsY0HJgkOj-ju0Jpcup9O7TsSNGdWyJ_Q13UHsgTDsSExH7XBSE-Z1bM3O127/s200/IMG_6995.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Before painting </td></tr>
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This morning November put on another sunny face, so I decided two more little tables needed a coat of paint before cold weather set in. As you can see from the "before" picture, sun fading took a lot of life out of at least one of the tables. With a fresh coat of bright blue, they now bring so much cheer to our front porch. In the picture below, all my painted pieces are hiding from the rain that threatened as I finished up. Those wicker chairs might be worth a new look too, but what color?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh48G0QuPEsG_KHs-bQE7vEm-HDdoGL4_W6rReOcBo2p8UwSLONHVYhAbB2NE2hhrq-1RLWQvVyZAlIFg4wZgzHGscNiVApq1j7bPiEzqHXcAYgm5fjlaWFEeoo8vPHrjkTkfSvIaWgDX4Z/s1600/IMG_6996.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh48G0QuPEsG_KHs-bQE7vEm-HDdoGL4_W6rReOcBo2p8UwSLONHVYhAbB2NE2hhrq-1RLWQvVyZAlIFg4wZgzHGscNiVApq1j7bPiEzqHXcAYgm5fjlaWFEeoo8vPHrjkTkfSvIaWgDX4Z/s400/IMG_6996.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After painting</td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01324729309201526017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844145521456887210.post-67245404573478152372015-11-10T19:32:00.000-08:002015-11-10T19:35:43.170-08:00Crafty Day<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Living as I do in a house where there is always a pile of in-progress drawings and uncapped markers, it's difficult to avoid the art bug. Why try? Once upon a time I fancied myself a creative person. Why should the little people have all the fun? </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This crate once served as my very own toy box.<br />
(Thanks, Mom and Dad!)<br />
Now, it's time to William-ize it. </td></tr>
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I took advantage of this sunny and warm November day to turn the garage into a painting studio. A few days ago, I brought this old crate up to William's room to fill with books. He wasn't in love with it, until I suggested painting it. Then, he couldn't wait to get started:</div>
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<i>William: What are we doing today?</i></div>
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<i>Me: We need to drop off the big kids and then I thought you and I could go to Menards for some paint. </i></div>
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<i>William: I love 'Nards! </i></div>
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Although William quickly found some paint brushes from somewhere in the basement, I decided to go with spray paint for this project for speed and cost reasons. Truly, the old box probably doesn't have much life left in it, so a basic spray paint job will be good enough. </div>
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First, I reacquainted myself with the adorable Black & Decker Mouse sander, an old friend from our old house days. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIRis2a8LnxJfklaoTqdX2ya5z2RL4T1REvhreznzxrb6WR_O1M_QPWb1HCapz8Yq7RGaVdhAlwC-7quc2pwA_x-emQa8KljrS3I5UbbIF6vvw9AjAbs4BE33StE2ikGN1rdNpWnN_SXGV/s1600/IMG_6984.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIRis2a8LnxJfklaoTqdX2ya5z2RL4T1REvhreznzxrb6WR_O1M_QPWb1HCapz8Yq7RGaVdhAlwC-7quc2pwA_x-emQa8KljrS3I5UbbIF6vvw9AjAbs4BE33StE2ikGN1rdNpWnN_SXGV/s320/IMG_6984.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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A few nails were needed to de-wobble the crate:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1K0Tm7eg92n4Q15M2v7LhLoCHNzT1RFt_hxKATInmeBqlwrBVqhk3t5BvfEV_-V4slmREgj3SojHa5XBktWY8SZzJRtoLen5hE9d1G4HhxBiK3tATnUPStiCG_myCSaTUWj0LdDO5mdrt/s1600/IMG_6985.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1K0Tm7eg92n4Q15M2v7LhLoCHNzT1RFt_hxKATInmeBqlwrBVqhk3t5BvfEV_-V4slmREgj3SojHa5XBktWY8SZzJRtoLen5hE9d1G4HhxBiK3tATnUPStiCG_myCSaTUWj0LdDO5mdrt/s320/IMG_6985.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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Spray paint time! William really wanted to help with this part, but he had to content himself with a supervisory role. He did't realize he wasn't going to be able to take it back to his room right away. Waiting for paint to dry is indeed a dull job. Especially when you're four.<br />
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I had no illusions that this was going to be a Pinterest-worthy project. It was more of a test-run before painting some more interesting things. I learned that even the slightest breeze can make the newspaper drop-cloth stick to the newly painted item.<br />
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We considered leaving the inside yellow for a Packer effect, but William voted for full green coverage.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHqkSdcyMWZfuZKUtwiEWwmxbSImztkSb6eBY4KLVD57j0J2yB_irG5egGAqLxfppHleMwWSW4fe3IKD7tlXfYLdhTpRKFU7m-cL3iblG7VbMU2mdykgh6PDKdC2TePX2uRF6-vkvm9gXn/s1600/IMG_6992.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHqkSdcyMWZfuZKUtwiEWwmxbSImztkSb6eBY4KLVD57j0J2yB_irG5egGAqLxfppHleMwWSW4fe3IKD7tlXfYLdhTpRKFU7m-cL3iblG7VbMU2mdykgh6PDKdC2TePX2uRF6-vkvm9gXn/s320/IMG_6992.JPG" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGtSqX9oxvINpxc8rv80n8SKDA0AcBfoMH5JuYcP1FoxJRbUlqIoNcxGJOEfmWttasKMqOVcxoOF8RAMBXRhIgPuXAZn7vWC6XDdIP-CMt5tbqZsZnHi7-N6wSgRGzeE8zJ7ItPCl9nFEI/s1600/IMG_6993.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGtSqX9oxvINpxc8rv80n8SKDA0AcBfoMH5JuYcP1FoxJRbUlqIoNcxGJOEfmWttasKMqOVcxoOF8RAMBXRhIgPuXAZn7vWC6XDdIP-CMt5tbqZsZnHi7-N6wSgRGzeE8zJ7ItPCl9nFEI/s320/IMG_6993.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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And done! It's nothing fancy, but it will work just fine. And as long as the painting studio was open, why stop with just one small project. We have a few old Ikea plant stands that have faded in the sun. One just needed an update. </div>
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(This time, I found a one-piece drop cloth and bricks to hold it down!)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiCBg3WPCus3D7kqHidlAz59vUBQeeJlhXygVgTxvlLr7GTvtjjxupdHfIIMetC3pWikkI4k0vBtjaRc4OoKAqrtA7mjX_1gYKtISxe2BCS2ETOLWV_YaHKFrCnmf1gTxjhD79IfD34wFu/s1600/IMG_6991.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiCBg3WPCus3D7kqHidlAz59vUBQeeJlhXygVgTxvlLr7GTvtjjxupdHfIIMetC3pWikkI4k0vBtjaRc4OoKAqrtA7mjX_1gYKtISxe2BCS2ETOLWV_YaHKFrCnmf1gTxjhD79IfD34wFu/s320/IMG_6991.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Look! I'm camouflage! </td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP2ZrZripUug894CEflvLPn9g0Cj7RSD2iOVMB9iNlxSDdlrPqJyCb_ymeCYA1sPXG3vO1YdXlr8xClNnMNocUcOvn_baglyQ5fndKBEBilE6E6BNavu80lfxomgp7Z2qiZQNDebhsgFGO/s1600/IMG_6994.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP2ZrZripUug894CEflvLPn9g0Cj7RSD2iOVMB9iNlxSDdlrPqJyCb_ymeCYA1sPXG3vO1YdXlr8xClNnMNocUcOvn_baglyQ5fndKBEBilE6E6BNavu80lfxomgp7Z2qiZQNDebhsgFGO/s320/IMG_6994.JPG" width="240" /></a><br />
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And here's the finished table, waiting to dry. It went from "eh" to adorable. There are at least two more little tables and a whole patio set that are calling out to be the next painting projects, which I will do, just as soon as I get this blue paint off my hands. </div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01324729309201526017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844145521456887210.post-52163280313475154512015-07-07T14:31:00.000-07:002015-07-07T14:31:03.799-07:00Bird Again<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNLvfevTO30CtWukxcHWrvOpGhujLvIwSIVxJlaVOTR70yRmIc_0Fe7D9_fUpP7ZlJh8tztiA9kfB8wiXCp-XIcNtH7MzXrz_4GRpnQz0Mbr_sYKU1-Nl4Jk-nJ9VJ7ElhyphenhyphenCcEtzsI9nRR/s1600/bird.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNLvfevTO30CtWukxcHWrvOpGhujLvIwSIVxJlaVOTR70yRmIc_0Fe7D9_fUpP7ZlJh8tztiA9kfB8wiXCp-XIcNtH7MzXrz_4GRpnQz0Mbr_sYKU1-Nl4Jk-nJ9VJ7ElhyphenhyphenCcEtzsI9nRR/s320/bird.jpg" width="267" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Do you see what we see?</td></tr>
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Just when I'm completely exasperated with the mom-at-home life, God gives me a nudge to say, "There are good things here." Today's tiny moment came with feathers. Ye olde minivan was about to shift into reverse and take the gang to our public pool for morning swimming lessons -- a chilly prospect on a 60-degree morning. William piped up with, "What's that animal in the garage?" Chipmunks do scamper along the wall from time to time, so that's what I thought he saw. It was not, though. "The bird on the bike," was his response to his own question. What no one but the three-year old saw was a baby robin, just a few days out of the egg, sitting on the handle bars of Erik's bike. I didn't relish the idea of trapping the bird in the garage while we were out, so I hopped out of the van to chase it away. It didn't move. In fact, as I reached for the bike, it opened it's little beak as if I had a big worm to offer. (Chorus of laughter from my own baby birds back in the van.) It sat on the bike staring at me as I rolled the bike out of the garage. Only as I parked the bike next to the house did it take flight, while doing what startled animals do ("Not on my bike!"), then aiming for -- and missing -- the neighbor's garage light. (Landing with accuracy is apparently an acquired skill.) We were go to go, right? Oh, no. Baby bird tried to come back as we were backing down the driveway, landing first on the van roof, then sitting in the middle of the driveway staring at us as we drove away. <br />
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Nature is weird and it takes a 3-year old to spot the silly.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01324729309201526017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844145521456887210.post-48760167689576308272015-06-22T19:52:00.000-07:002015-06-22T19:52:38.762-07:00Warren Dunes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climbing to the top</td></tr>
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<b>Sawyer, Michigan</b> -- Last Friday our family took advantage of the beautiful day to trek to to the eastern shore of Lake Michigan for a day at <a href="http://www.michigandnr.com/ParksandTrails/Details.aspx?id=504&type=SPRK">Warren Dunes State Park</a>. On arrival we immediately set out to climb the dunes. Being naturally closer to the ground, it took almost no effort at all for the kids to scurry up the sandy steepness of Pikes Peak. We parents had barely caught our breath when we needed to regroup and direct the daring explorers to descend on kid-safe slopes. (They, of course, wanted to follow the groups of teenagers racing down the near-vertical drops of some paths.) Back on level ground, we moved over to the beach. Due to the day's wind and waves, swimming was off limits, but it didn't stop us from dipping toes in the chilly lake. The boys were thrilled with waves. Only the promise of ice cream pulled them away from the shore. (Anna, though a sand and water lover, was happier with her William away from the loud waves.) After that snack, we moved back to the dunes for a bit of hiking. The kids hiked like pros through the various trail landscapes and elevations. The last time we visited Lake Michigan, William was small enough that I foolishly tried to push a stroller up along the beach. What a change to have all three children capable of walking on their own two feet for a family hike. There was some dragging at the end, but all perked up as the lake came back into view. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The boys at the top of the Big Hill</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No swimming due to wind and rip currents, <br />but the beach was fun anyway</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dipping toes in the icy water</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All the way down!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After almost three miles of trail hiking, <br />little bodies get tired!</td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01324729309201526017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844145521456887210.post-62853657908692985982015-06-02T14:04:00.002-07:002015-06-02T14:04:26.382-07:00Sunny Day Slides<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>Summer Vacation, Day 2</b> -- For our first outing of summer vacation, Erik requested visiting his favorite park. It's a top choice because of several tall, steep slides. The park has smaller equipment for young kids, but it didn't take more than a few minutes before the lure of following his big brother and sister had William going down the BIG slides, too. "Mommy, I went down the big slide and I didn't break any bones!" Sunny day success.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Whee!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My boys</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Miss Daredevil</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My loves</td></tr>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01324729309201526017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844145521456887210.post-28886633140219956232015-06-02T13:37:00.000-07:002015-06-02T13:37:02.356-07:00Summer School Days<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc8c48ro5rf8nJkPuqQkcQHGCV-TxVcyGhPvyLV-PLdJ3fCz335YaMOQqbngO-mtoPtzJK-215ZOXw5DoH0464e977KM1x1zSvD6_HeX9kitNzP8fv2PM0oj0WFt5tpcq7jnzW4OuW40yG/s1600/IMG_4413.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc8c48ro5rf8nJkPuqQkcQHGCV-TxVcyGhPvyLV-PLdJ3fCz335YaMOQqbngO-mtoPtzJK-215ZOXw5DoH0464e977KM1x1zSvD6_HeX9kitNzP8fv2PM0oj0WFt5tpcq7jnzW4OuW40yG/s200/IMG_4413.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Summer Learning Station 2014</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcLp9hWqdCjT73nHY7YCzt-K8sJAg97kKXyhUGR8ECo8RH_hQbCwcp9Prb1DlbkdbbdjT2xlH0DqhM9ZISfiuyxAfAoCCh1SdQxIGNaYog09ptD4_pV9N9bUpXP6VIia_Dje52FBQwYIoF/s1600/IMG_4409.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcLp9hWqdCjT73nHY7YCzt-K8sJAg97kKXyhUGR8ECo8RH_hQbCwcp9Prb1DlbkdbbdjT2xlH0DqhM9ZISfiuyxAfAoCCh1SdQxIGNaYog09ptD4_pV9N9bUpXP6VIia_Dje52FBQwYIoF/s1600/IMG_4409.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Summer Student 2014</td></tr>
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While I was writing my <a href="http://olsenland.blogspot.com/2015/05/empty-nest.html">post about our hatching robins</a>, I realized that it had been a year since I had last written anything for this blog. I began a post about our plans for summer learning and never got beyond selecting pictures. Time zips by! So here we are again at the beginning of the summer, just days beyond saying goodbye to another academic year and I have already instituted the Mom School: Summer 2015. Last year we had lists -- lists of want-to-do activities and must-do activities (chores and scholarly pursuits). It gave our summer some direction, but this year, I wanted more routine. One of the reasons my kids thrive in the classroom is due to the predictability of a clear routine. So, this year I spent an afternoon the weekend before school let out devising our summer schedule. While I don't intend for it to be rigid, having a daily and weekly plan has already made me feel more confident about the direction of our summer. The kids know exactly what I want them to do before they head out to play and we can all look forward to out-of-the house activities every week. We're only on day two of summer vacation and Tuesday didn't look at all like Monday or like our Summer Agenda. We have a direction, though, and that makes the long days of summer seem like opportunities to be enjoyed instead of hours to be endured -- even with the bickering already begun!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn19onHNQN4QqQG7-MCR3aQ71oTX5de_DUGiCxFhIK9ZMs6f4PQZmPceGFCE6oIfHdeJ2k2at3GSc2YqPyIaktFH-i0GE_29nQka4drB8jsos-UmcewQwKsJEggcv8tH6a-98Hyy-pC7RC/s1600/IMG_6126.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn19onHNQN4QqQG7-MCR3aQ71oTX5de_DUGiCxFhIK9ZMs6f4PQZmPceGFCE6oIfHdeJ2k2at3GSc2YqPyIaktFH-i0GE_29nQka4drB8jsos-UmcewQwKsJEggcv8tH6a-98Hyy-pC7RC/s400/IMG_6126.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I found these two books at a library sale .<br />We will be reading selections from them daily. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-AojlDsoUKyPT1HB4d8Jjgwyf9hZh_FrONqp-OXUfArbVbrjT4Ujlwz2BjDmOAE4KPjiu-H1FzsLU6ISPDI_RdU1MnsyfophkP-INmbmYiFAeitjVG39pVleFczeUoMZlpMom7mtCV8-2/s1600/IMG_6151.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-AojlDsoUKyPT1HB4d8Jjgwyf9hZh_FrONqp-OXUfArbVbrjT4Ujlwz2BjDmOAE4KPjiu-H1FzsLU6ISPDI_RdU1MnsyfophkP-INmbmYiFAeitjVG39pVleFczeUoMZlpMom7mtCV8-2/s400/IMG_6151.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Summer Plans 2015: Our daily agenda and summer binder. The binder contains the Summer Routine, miscellaneous worksheets, writing prompts for journals, summer reading program logs, "To Make" and "To Go" ideas, and a "Been There" section. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLs-zzHwFi1MF-Vg6plxJBoWJlBgThs2XQfSCJUkCd4PwAritrYt97tFD-31UebgbAGDYahYNsmiQgBVfltEBn2YKIJgy-8qztv7JSqZ6fSQ4UfIKC6YkUTaBVmnVgg2d5LrhDxp1LyRCX/s1600/IMG_4394.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLs-zzHwFi1MF-Vg6plxJBoWJlBgThs2XQfSCJUkCd4PwAritrYt97tFD-31UebgbAGDYahYNsmiQgBVfltEBn2YKIJgy-8qztv7JSqZ6fSQ4UfIKC6YkUTaBVmnVgg2d5LrhDxp1LyRCX/s320/IMG_4394.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Summer Plans 2014: Lists!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another Mom School student from 2014:<br />So much growth in a year! </td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01324729309201526017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844145521456887210.post-78360475088364837332015-05-30T14:17:00.001-07:002015-05-30T14:17:58.213-07:00Empty NestThe arrival of chick eggs in the first grade classroom is a highly anticipated event, but once those cute little fluff balls have hatched they only get to stick around to delight their 6- and 7-year old caretakers for a few days. So, when the chicks left for their new farm home last Friday, it was a sad day for Anna. Spring is a season of much new life, though, and that very evening we noticed that the activity in the nest a mama robin had thoughtfully constructed above our deck had changed. Instead of just a mother bird, a shell and some tiny beaks were visible. The baby birds had hatched!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTXw3pL4bTIqW904L1VrYpx7WoMPP-UCnoHCL6EjjBuwocNoyCMTOy-W96LtZ_JCdJ43r7uqIEcaBZUpCR1zL6qNXj3jDwLkXABm7RfAmLup38ecgGCT0CRewtQpOQOQeJ49y1ChEYDHkE/s1600/IMG_6084.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTXw3pL4bTIqW904L1VrYpx7WoMPP-UCnoHCL6EjjBuwocNoyCMTOy-W96LtZ_JCdJ43r7uqIEcaBZUpCR1zL6qNXj3jDwLkXABm7RfAmLup38ecgGCT0CRewtQpOQOQeJ49y1ChEYDHkE/s320/IMG_6084.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our newly-hatched babies </td></tr>
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During this past week, we have seen mama come and go from her nest with a beak-full of lunch for the little ones. When our observations have been too close, she has alerted us from a nearby tree that we should back off. The nest is situated in the bend of a downspout just under the roof overhang, far from the reach of human or wildlife intruders. Unfortunately, a certain other creature has noted mom's comings and goings with interest: our ever-watchful Cleo. This same 68-pound canine wonder recently got herself stuck under the same deck while hot on the trail of a likely raccoon invader. The usual tension of the natural world had been set into motion.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stuck Dog</td></tr>
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On the last day of school, I let out the dog first thing in the morning and noticed that the three babies had gotten <i>huge</i>. How such bird-sized creatures fit in a small nest amazed me. I called the kids to look and Anna headed outside with Cleo to observe. Back inside, I was getting breakfast ready when a commotion was heard and the brown and white blur of an enthusiastic dog was observed out the back window. The small birds had attempted to take flight and Cleo gave chase. Outside I ran shouting my sternest, "Cleo, NO!" as she snuffled at something in the grass right in front of our swing set. After dragging a reluctant dog inside as nervous children looked on, I investigated a very still little bird. Back inside, I tried to explain that Cleo was not trying to be mean, but baby birds have to learn to fly fast or predators will be after them. Jamieson then went out to check on the bird and discovered that it was alive. So we left it alone and went about our before-school preparations when not 10 minutes later who should appear on the deck staring into the window, but a lively baby bird. Was it looking for its canine friend or giving all of us a defiant "nah-nah-nah-nah"?<br />
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What a saga for a beautiful May morning: the excitement of a baby birds leaving the nest on our last day of school, the sadness of a dog vs. bird showdown in front of the kids, and the joy of the bird surviving its first treacherous flight. As we watched, the baby bird on the deck turned and took flight again, soared across the yard, then crashed straight into the fence and fell into the shrubbery. Sigh. From the other side of the yard, Mama Bird zoomed down to tend her feckless flier and our breakfast resumed. Last day of school metaphor writ large: The babies may be ready to try new things, but they still need their mom close by.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01324729309201526017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844145521456887210.post-74235056980147082272014-06-04T09:26:00.000-07:002014-06-04T09:26:25.273-07:00Summer Vacation, Day 3: Mommmmm!!!!Parenting dilemma of the summer: When the cries of "Mommmmmm!" let loose, do you drop what you are doing and respond right away because, gosh, these darlings are only young once and they have a need! Or, do you try to make your eye roll as subtle as possible and sweeten your, "Just wait a moment" because, sheesh, these kids need to learn not to be so darn demanding!<br />
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I think you can tell which way I'm leaning here. (I'm not just folding laundry in another room, I'm teaching delayed gratification. It's just not taking hold.)<br />
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Does it influence your answer to my dilemma if the eightieth "Mommmmmmm" was followed by "Erik said I'm small!" Or the eighty-first was "Can you put the card table in my room?"<br />
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We aren't talking life or death issues here.<br />
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Did I mention it's raining today? The kids are having a great day. Legos, living room caves, "campfires" in the basement, etc. They just want me appraised of every moment. Awesome.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01324729309201526017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844145521456887210.post-91429777766642878492014-06-03T20:39:00.001-07:002014-06-03T20:45:54.365-07:00Summer Vacation, Days 1 & 2<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIXLfKjIiHduBo3MSTaCn0Oci5C2_caRB6lyw-cgNSxLDC5gJJBoK5RPMnz3GbGS5JITVFnqdMZfhbqtjGbptnKR-S_VVt_m5em0PBK8v3uWAgvHI1mY8dNuruBjV1JdQcqtohwapRVw0P/s1600/IMG_4395%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIXLfKjIiHduBo3MSTaCn0Oci5C2_caRB6lyw-cgNSxLDC5gJJBoK5RPMnz3GbGS5JITVFnqdMZfhbqtjGbptnKR-S_VVt_m5em0PBK8v3uWAgvHI1mY8dNuruBjV1JdQcqtohwapRVw0P/s1600/IMG_4395%5B1%5D.JPG" height="200" width="149" /></a>Two days of summer vacation under our belts ... wait, no one here wears belts! Ah, lazy summer days!<br />
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We started low-key yesterday with nothing nothing to do and nowhere to go. We had some fitful discussions of what to do during our three months of summer -- fun things, scholarly things, house-cleaning things. When presented with the big "What do you want to do this summer?" question, the answer from the kids was, "Let's fill up all our pools in the yard!" (That would be two small, inflatable wading pools and one wading pool big enough for all of us to sit in simultaneously.) That's it. Is there anywhere else that you'd like to go, anyone. "How about the park? The one with the really big slide?" That's a 10 minute drive from home, so not a difficult outing. Anything else? Anything? Anything? "Museum of Science and Industry?" says he who wants to see "The Great Train Story" <i>again</i>. So, the Summer Bucket List is a little empty, but we here at Olsen Central always have been homebodies and we like it that way.<br />
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Monday, the kids played together fairly well. (That means, of course, no blood and minimal bruising.) Old toys and puzzles were rediscovered and re-loved. No one got sand in their eyes in the sandbox. Popsicles were shared. Chores were done, because that's how to make Mom say yes to computer or TV time. We even cracked open the summer workbooks (because I am <i>that </i>mom) to absolutely no complaining. (When you specifically buy the book that tells a child what page to do on each day, do you stop the child from working ahead and hand that scholar a different workbook or just let her go?) The day was a going well, until dinner when one of our number became unexpectedly and dramatically ill. Yikes! All I could say was, at least this doesn't always happen in the middle of the night!<br />
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Summer, Day 2: Ill child is much improved. Maybe dinner was just <i>really </i>unappealing. We eased into the morning and had another eager round of workbooking. I'm impressed at how easily the kids take to doing these <a href="http://www.summerbridgeactivities.org/">Summer Bridge</a> workbooks. We've done them for three years now. (Yes, Erik will be just a third grader in the fall.) I learned the year William was born that it doesn't work to say go do a workbook page and let it get done in another room with no supervision. So, choosing a series that is paced for summer work between specific grades is very helpful. This year I also have on hand some other workbooks for specific areas I'd like to see extra practice: subtraction and cursive writing for Erik and sight words for Anna. It really doesn't take them too long to plow through some pages and they like having the routine of it. After lunch, we have devotion and reading time, which we tie into the library's summer reading program, (but we would do no matter what). Before the day is done, I also like to have the kids write a journal entry of some sort. To be perfectly honest, sometimes it's nice to spread out these tasks so when the kids ask to do things I'd like to drag my feet on ("Can I watch a show?") I have a list of chores and academic things that need to get done first.<br />
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One of the challenges of summer break can be the necessity of having my whole crew come with me as I do errands. Keeping three kids in roughly the same area of Target while shopping for the week's necessities is no small challenge. I have not forgotten how dull shopping can be for a kid, which is what I jokingly said the kids should write about for their journal tonight. Anna instead went with "I ate strawberries." Erik wrote an epic analysis of the Power Trains/Power City sets that he saw in the toy section. Later I parked him in front of the computer and told him to do some price research on Amazon and see what he could learn. As long as a kid is going to be fixated on a toy, I might as well get him to do some comparison shopping. (Then we threw a wrench in the works and told him that the Lego trains really are going to last much longer even though they cost more. Now he's back to studying the Lego City train sets.)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZIFwFdTXJQ5Ti8B5uTAtR03nTUP0Mg1uegmNZ-1DHBnHW7F2qJdWFcUpb6NRx5VQTRoQZa928eLMSo_P5oBb2tPCvdzo0YVnG0ofUsl6PHJBo8K2Bi6F4v0qIiGZbjUBuQtMfPLjmzSu8/s1600/IMG_4398%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZIFwFdTXJQ5Ti8B5uTAtR03nTUP0Mg1uegmNZ-1DHBnHW7F2qJdWFcUpb6NRx5VQTRoQZa928eLMSo_P5oBb2tPCvdzo0YVnG0ofUsl6PHJBo8K2Bi6F4v0qIiGZbjUBuQtMfPLjmzSu8/s1600/IMG_4398%5B1%5D.JPG" height="239" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jamieson took this picture while were reading <i>Harry </i>outside.<br />
So serious!</td></tr>
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From a mom point of view, the great accomplishment of the past two days has been already hooking the kids on a new book. Last week Erik brought home Lego <i>Harry Potter: Building the Magical World. </i> He brings home every book the library has about Lego, but it made me think maybe it was time to bring out Harry. So, we did. We started <i>Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone</i> yesterday. We're on the third chapter today and the kids are captivated. They get really annoyed when I put the book down at the end of a chapter. This is going to be a perfect summer read for them.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01324729309201526017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844145521456887210.post-5036521910518385202014-04-22T12:06:00.002-07:002014-04-22T12:06:32.216-07:00Confessions of a Summer Failure It's April 22 and I'm already really behind on summer. Now that we've passed Easter, that feeling of Summer Activity Dread is now stalking me. I'm fully aware that the organized parents of the world have had their June, July and August calendars filled with camps, classes and activities for several weeks already. I know this because a few weeks ago when I looked up swimming lessons for our own park district they were already filled. Also, I've been party to the "Are you going to do ____ this summer?" conversations many times since Spring Break. Confession: I AM NOT READY. I am so far from not ready. I have not even started. I have I small pile of things to look at that <i>may </i>become things we <i>might </i>possibly do during the summer, but the odds are very, very good that should I happen to get around to looking a those activity descriptions while also looking at our family calendar before the actual activity occurs there will be neither the space for an Olsen kid nor room in an Olsen budget for such things. Sigh. It's kind of sad to feel like summer is a failure ... in APRIL!<br />
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One of the worst aspects of modern parenting is the keeping up with the Joneses, especially since many-a Mama Jones tends to post her offsprings' most stellar moments on ye olde social media all the time. While I objectively know that my children do not need a full social calendar and in fact thrive on down time, it takes superhuman momma effort to keep reminding myself that just because the Chicago Parent weekend calendar is bursting with things to do this weekend, we do not need to attend <i>one single event.</i> There will be <i>no </i>parenting penalty for failing to provide cultural stimulation to all three children every single week. There are <i>no </i>guarantees that any of the children will get a scholarship or even attend a four-year private university if we sign them up for season-after-season of sports and activities. There is <i>no </i>magic number of grade school playdates that will assure a vibrant social life in later school years. There's even proof for this. Ever read or watched <a href="http://freakonomics.com/books/freakonomics/chapter-excerpts/chapter-5/">Freakonomics</a>? If the research is to be believed, Jamieson and I have already set the kids on their life path. Now we just have to keep them fed and in clean clothes.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiglk9jEfsJQHE7SAaiFheZblhgBmUXQlx9VN-PLSxQ65ePOmgJuIXwxC0rO8MX_AESi-dvl_ufd9g15GbhyphenhyphenlfDwFa_WDFS_ZbxFg4_jQoUxoFLati5rXbPJ7DUgjDi2FOlhCDOPoDhhQdK/s1600/IMG_4080.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiglk9jEfsJQHE7SAaiFheZblhgBmUXQlx9VN-PLSxQ65ePOmgJuIXwxC0rO8MX_AESi-dvl_ufd9g15GbhyphenhyphenlfDwFa_WDFS_ZbxFg4_jQoUxoFLati5rXbPJ7DUgjDi2FOlhCDOPoDhhQdK/s1600/IMG_4080.JPG" height="239" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the park </td></tr>
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So, on a day like yesterday I again "treated" my husband to the same anxious monologue about the merits of activities for the kids, but he said they are fine. <b>He's right.</b> Erik and Anna had the day off from school. Thanks to Facebook, I was aware that some friends were off doing exciting/fun/cultural things. (Note to self: Facebook is not helping your parenting.) What did we do? We went to our public library where we are known personally by several of the librarians. William and Anna enjoyed storytime. All three kids enjoyed <i>filling </i>our library cart. There is NO checkout limit, so 50 books came home with us. (Personally, I wish so many <br />
of them had not been about Scooby-Doo, but that's another issue.) All three kids gleefully read books all the way home. We stopped at a favorite park to play. We read at home, where I was told how much they love books. We had some quiet time. When friends came home from school, the kids spent at least two hours playing outside with their buddies. When I had to ask Erik a question, he was in the midst of debating whether he was or was not "it." No adults were mediating the game. At any one time, there can be at least 14 kids playing outside on our cul-de-sac. All I need to do to get my kids some physical fitness time is open the door after school or on a weekend. No fees to pay. No calendars to consult. It's the kind of childhood we often hear lamented as some relic of a lost time. My children have it to enjoy every day and I'm fretting that it's not quite enough. Silly mom. Seems like it will be a perfect summer after all.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01324729309201526017noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844145521456887210.post-84512157316179700132013-10-07T07:02:00.000-07:002013-10-07T07:02:08.455-07:00<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/10266902-selfish-reasons-to-have-more-kids" style="float: left; padding-right: 20px;"><img alt="Selfish Reasons to Have More Kids: Why Being a Great Parent is Less Work and More Fun Than You Think" border="0" src="https://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/books/1328841683m/10266902.jpg" /></a><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/10266902-selfish-reasons-to-have-more-kids">Selfish Reasons to Have More Kids: Why Being a Great Parent is Less Work and More Fun Than You Think</a> by <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/373203.Bryan_Caplan">Bryan Caplan</a><br />
My rating: <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/723437229">4 of 5 stars</a><br /><br />
The research presented here, mostly culled from twin studies in the western world, provides anxious parents with two important facts. 1) Because so much of who children become is determined by genetics, it makes more sense to relax and enjoy their upbringing instead of trying to cram days full of enriching activities. 2)The usual excuses against having more (or any children) simply don't hold water. Children are healthier, safer, and more affordable(based on parents' real incomes) than they were in "the good old days" so, if you like your kids, and want to up the odds of children and grandchildren being a part of your life in your later years, have more children. Thankfully, the author is not trying to force a certain family size on anyone, simply pointing out that parenting need not be as stressful as we in the western world tend to make it. That's useful advice for parents of any number of children. <br />
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/7009742-christine">View all my reviews</a><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01324729309201526017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844145521456887210.post-13260257508297559412013-09-23T19:46:00.000-07:002013-09-23T19:46:33.495-07:00William at play<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Fall is my favorite season, and it's so perfect for playing outside. Just ask William who spent his outside time this morning "feeding" and hauling his stuffed animals friends. I love how this boy so adeptly mimics big-people life in his pretend play. He pulled the animals across the yard in the wagon, then gently placed them on the seats of the fort, picked up some Frisbees to fill with mulch and then put them in front of each animal as if it was breakfast time. The puppy dog also got several rides down the slide in William's lap. William's favorite toy tends to change from day to day, although certain critters tend to be requested at nap and bedtime. It's great fun to see him try to carry three large stuffed animals downstairs in the morning. He is a pack rat who loves to carry his stuff around. I'd like to get a picture of the three-animal carry since they do dwarf his little self, but he's very camera aware and will often dart off to his next activity before I can get a good shot. He's a busy one, but so very sweet. </span></blockquote>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01324729309201526017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844145521456887210.post-20404115445038556972013-09-22T20:15:00.000-07:002013-09-23T11:46:05.085-07:00Orchard day!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We discovered a new favorite orchard on Saturday. The day was beautiful, just perfect for an orchard outing. We decided to try a new place this year since we are always on the hunt for places that are enjoyable for the kids, but not overwhelming in terms of crowds or prices. After a quick <a href="http://www.gowestyoungmom.com/home/2013/9/18/fall-guide-2013-northern-illinois-apple-orchards.html">online search</a>, we chose <a href="http://www.honeyhillorchard.com/">Honey Hill Orchard</a> in Waterman. It was wonderful! </div>
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Right off the bat, Erik was happy because our route out took us along Illinois-30, which runs parallel to train tracks the entire way. A few "diggers" here and there made William happy and Anna delighted in pointing out every porch or farm stand with a pumpkin. Arriving happy = day already a success. </div>
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We overshot Waterman Road by a touch since it's one of these crazy roads that have a different name at different places. Unexpectedly, there was no giant sign pointing us in the right direction, and the sign at the farm was just the smallest little painted wooden apple sign. That's okay. We like understated. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anna brought Scout, her classroom's pet bear.<br />
This weekend was her turn to bring him home.<br />
He seems to want a piece of her donut!</td></tr>
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Because we had already spent our morning in lazy Lego building, it was lunchtime once we arrived. So, we headed straight for the bakery's apple cider doughnuts. Oh. My. Such deliciousness!<br />
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Then it was time to check out the fun stuff. I just LOVE the fact that they have a small kids area, but it doesn't cost anything extra. There are two hay mazes and a petting zoo. It's not the buffet of fun that other orchards have, but everyone in our group was happy. Climbing stuff, yummy stuff, and furry stuff. Good enough for us!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">William really liked the pigs. </td></tr>
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On to the apples: we bought our bag to fill and waited for the short tractor wagon ride to the right tree row for the day's picking. Erik and Anna were excited enough by the idea of the tractor ride that they insisted on waiting for a ride, even though walking to the right spot would have been just as fast. William, unfortunately, hated the wagon ride idea. He loves, loves, loves all things trucks, but not big, close, moving ones, apparently. I cuddled him into riding, but we decided to walk back when we were done picking instead of traumatizing him further.<br />
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No lasting harm done, William loved eating the apples and exploring the trees, as did his brother and sister. They were all very good at finding just the right apples. The apples themselves were amazing. Very sweet and very, very large. (Somewhere today, I saw a recipe for an apple pie baked <i>in </i>the apple. I think I have the perfect apples if I can only find that recipe!) <br />
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Anna, a lover of all berries, was so very excited that Honey Hill had not just apples to pick, but raspberries, too. Just a few days ago, she told me she will be a berry farmer when she grows up. I'm always happy to see how very content all three kids seem when we are out in the natural world, so I wouldn't be surprised if she does indeed do something in the great outdoors.<br />
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Of course, between the doughnuts, the apples and the berries we had eaten, we were all very full and very happy by this time. The kids wanted a bit more time to play. William insisted on looking at the pigs and rabbits again. So, we let them get out the wiggles before the ride home. It was a great outing at a wonderful place. Erik wants to go back to see if their apple pie is as good as the donuts, so we will be back, I'm sure.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaHuUj-GIrGF7XdZaasK4hSZGXNX_xQAnpW8kDXD3R4YB2Iv-kvd9vas5zHnKPR16YgNRwuWBCYgNm416zPWFyQOVaZstliYqBTWZy5p-wZ_ckzc6g2wV7zVmHq_qykVP2TZFJxfPmSSni/s1600/IMG_3081.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaHuUj-GIrGF7XdZaasK4hSZGXNX_xQAnpW8kDXD3R4YB2Iv-kvd9vas5zHnKPR16YgNRwuWBCYgNm416zPWFyQOVaZstliYqBTWZy5p-wZ_ckzc6g2wV7zVmHq_qykVP2TZFJxfPmSSni/s400/IMG_3081.JPG" width="297" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They are all looking at the camera and smiling. Wow!<br />
(And could the sky have been any more gorgeous?)</td></tr>
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If just being out in a beautiful day at a beautiful place wasn't enough, since returning, Erik has been recreating the orchard in a Lego tableau. As always, his attention to detail is impressive. I think Anna allowed the appropriation of her Lego trees for the scene since she's been busy making a Lego house larger and larger.<br />
<br />
Anna and William made short work of the raspberries for lunch today. As always, I think they eat with the most enthusiasm those things they help harvest or prepare.<br />
<br />
If I had a bit more time, I would look up pictures of all our annual apple picking outings every year since Erik was a baby. It's become an annual tradition for us and one we all enjoy very much. Yum!<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz4g3HIr6RZEMteDFP-5JVby7XTyzt2YyaoMct8XzRtDeC5Mfdzu7ntI3THmq4rwPRqmL10D9bW0DFWaVhQoveZI873Oe1cTERUeYI0pD2nzb0kOqAjhwIBcdEbPkz4vFWJ9EwGSgRmE33/s1600/IMG_3092.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz4g3HIr6RZEMteDFP-5JVby7XTyzt2YyaoMct8XzRtDeC5Mfdzu7ntI3THmq4rwPRqmL10D9bW0DFWaVhQoveZI873Oe1cTERUeYI0pD2nzb0kOqAjhwIBcdEbPkz4vFWJ9EwGSgRmE33/s400/IMG_3092.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Been farmin' long? </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_cAicyaV5w22MYdwLpMK-jPhJbsMBkZnB95G3pB3fxmFmbepCXmKEsldhylyEiw3S03Yn5cZ1IpyNdY19UYcW_WfMMp7Lxtmevw787hUJaRCP4WrN-X1qMg0o8c5fCyLKpteymSM88kBQ/s1600/IMG_3065.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_cAicyaV5w22MYdwLpMK-jPhJbsMBkZnB95G3pB3fxmFmbepCXmKEsldhylyEiw3S03Yn5cZ1IpyNdY19UYcW_WfMMp7Lxtmevw787hUJaRCP4WrN-X1qMg0o8c5fCyLKpteymSM88kBQ/s200/IMG_3065.JPG" width="149" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cute, <br />
but these guys <br />
were a bit nippy!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyPzcBiNHx6I4bVFZHl-5X4mzm6WnAeG011gCZnjXw_4m_b58-TNY9D8Befzyxm_pOj4m9sMPORFOQ-C75QkCe-SpvZdbI7pQcUtKMe3mes2eYfmisnKsOmDJUzV89psL4_XM9O0WQ6v_c/s1600/IMG_3096.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyPzcBiNHx6I4bVFZHl-5X4mzm6WnAeG011gCZnjXw_4m_b58-TNY9D8Befzyxm_pOj4m9sMPORFOQ-C75QkCe-SpvZdbI7pQcUtKMe3mes2eYfmisnKsOmDJUzV89psL4_XM9O0WQ6v_c/s320/IMG_3096.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yum! These apples are HUGE!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoIgEckEmOVAy-SR9CmjMqxjoEEhIGpt47C3YLEnGtD9m-zCN1RrAWB1pSR-SKuA40Lf_ieV3qqe1PIupaaixi663EPl3Fa0DrMMNbPDDgVQYtserv9WP_ymTuhYXBDupSgwFu7TOHoj_6/s1600/IMG_3100.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoIgEckEmOVAy-SR9CmjMqxjoEEhIGpt47C3YLEnGtD9m-zCN1RrAWB1pSR-SKuA40Lf_ieV3qqe1PIupaaixi663EPl3Fa0DrMMNbPDDgVQYtserv9WP_ymTuhYXBDupSgwFu7TOHoj_6/s320/IMG_3100.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Erik shows off a rare icky apple. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjigmG5vdRkEKogxrr005TUWsTb7Y494CI9r63oHHOc_mPtqRuU22wOgMiJXg22QzOrchwqmX7Sp5oxHhtEwVPqWsFlHV8H9CQWNkn33K8I5YQXP45A08sue5W-tOXBeYAsmf_u8SlLDWkJ/s1600/IMG_3073.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjigmG5vdRkEKogxrr005TUWsTb7Y494CI9r63oHHOc_mPtqRuU22wOgMiJXg22QzOrchwqmX7Sp5oxHhtEwVPqWsFlHV8H9CQWNkn33K8I5YQXP45A08sue5W-tOXBeYAsmf_u8SlLDWkJ/s320/IMG_3073.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Action shot of Erik scaling the hay maze</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2GvvZxnJb_o-KD8uXaIjffqeRQdcmxJtgljlBw9UpmBZwfVaJa_KYbBnSKuLq-3tKj0MqkZHCGX2P8-xfFQqOx0ItXi2pxsPvbbE7_nae7AimlgynfiT1zMXjhyphenhyphenYvmhshsiwW71DRNlhF/s1600/IMG_3105.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2GvvZxnJb_o-KD8uXaIjffqeRQdcmxJtgljlBw9UpmBZwfVaJa_KYbBnSKuLq-3tKj0MqkZHCGX2P8-xfFQqOx0ItXi2pxsPvbbE7_nae7AimlgynfiT1zMXjhyphenhyphenYvmhshsiwW71DRNlhF/s320/IMG_3105.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Picking raspberries. Anna loved this!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Vn5OrLkfNjDzI2gHkSK2WGJOAYFMs4-s6iFjEbmcG9jQ6Ej0F_srkhcndZDWoADl6-ArGY5NYXOXQKYac6N0oCnr7G_XgUZosXKT6YLlBe0WIpPTL593U-gwkDqJ3cXZ3Fm6-VKSjFct/s1600/IMG_3119.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Vn5OrLkfNjDzI2gHkSK2WGJOAYFMs4-s6iFjEbmcG9jQ6Ej0F_srkhcndZDWoADl6-ArGY5NYXOXQKYac6N0oCnr7G_XgUZosXKT6YLlBe0WIpPTL593U-gwkDqJ3cXZ3Fm6-VKSjFct/s320/IMG_3119.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sitting still!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBMVVnhfzzC5FZGhVi3_C9Jb2L9ETc27E0tnZQhNHMPx72b4LNDBExHLX1KCtGTLP_ySughdUZmRKlWahudyhgUWGVXlWCK3vtBU0ileL3LGpU7UbnQhHfBNYcApeYhEI3s2UfOa6QmvjW/s1600/IMG_3107.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBMVVnhfzzC5FZGhVi3_C9Jb2L9ETc27E0tnZQhNHMPx72b4LNDBExHLX1KCtGTLP_ySughdUZmRKlWahudyhgUWGVXlWCK3vtBU0ileL3LGpU7UbnQhHfBNYcApeYhEI3s2UfOa6QmvjW/s400/IMG_3107.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wearing the right shirt for the occassion</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn_MY3A1QKT18K6dDH-arJkgdpZmXw1tQenxhIzVy3eFe5psHr8rNAv800D3anKoGmTPZvUlGygw8-hbtiGg5qzZ9gYPnBafJvpGe6M5b92VefUt2hpvEaSI1tQOy8HdnKkIQFUCY0S5h3/s1600/IMG_3078.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn_MY3A1QKT18K6dDH-arJkgdpZmXw1tQenxhIzVy3eFe5psHr8rNAv800D3anKoGmTPZvUlGygw8-hbtiGg5qzZ9gYPnBafJvpGe6M5b92VefUt2hpvEaSI1tQOy8HdnKkIQFUCY0S5h3/s320/IMG_3078.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking for the queen bee in the hive at the gift shop. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTluOuvifjT9ezDd2UmuJjGG8a71C_SlU3Z25OZxskQWenDHvpXWV7muW0quNqoE6Kzc5IZWqTqqEmxal3iRUCT4vHAQEw6nlTPmEWQADjHkeOl_NmR6Wwbb2GM5KXkr4jTrndCd-TRtQg/s1600/IMG_3102.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTluOuvifjT9ezDd2UmuJjGG8a71C_SlU3Z25OZxskQWenDHvpXWV7muW0quNqoE6Kzc5IZWqTqqEmxal3iRUCT4vHAQEw6nlTPmEWQADjHkeOl_NmR6Wwbb2GM5KXkr4jTrndCd-TRtQg/s320/IMG_3102.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Goodbye!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01324729309201526017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844145521456887210.post-22801914317594244632013-09-11T12:52:00.001-07:002013-09-11T12:52:50.774-07:00September thoughts<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNAbfwy8QvShgx3-Qd8TTjUw5jxIYPZo1b0gYw9K1Krka9vzq-es2uoS5FpK_r-D9FjnF25NRGH_xs1IkCyYtY_hmPrWwWgucn4wXxEEQ4Z6kurZ9JfcmTT1yrRkXkvOeDzw0xKXjfuEnn/s1600/IMG_3013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNAbfwy8QvShgx3-Qd8TTjUw5jxIYPZo1b0gYw9K1Krka9vzq-es2uoS5FpK_r-D9FjnF25NRGH_xs1IkCyYtY_hmPrWwWgucn4wXxEEQ4Z6kurZ9JfcmTT1yrRkXkvOeDzw0xKXjfuEnn/s200/IMG_3013.JPG" width="149" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">September sunshine</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
September 11th, twelve years ago, was a beautiful day. That first detail is as important as all the others. It was sunny and clear and perfect. And horrible and awful and evil. A dozen years ago already, and yet still a fresh wound for an entire nation. And healing?<br />
<br />
I don't have any personal stories of heartbreak for that day beyond what we all shared. Safe in the middle of the country and having no friends or family in New York or Washington, my experience was that of a horrified observer. I did not have to work that day, so I spent a dreadful morning watching hour after hour of television. Seeing the towers collapse. Wondering what was happening. Fearing for what might happen next. Worrying about family members and friends who were not there, but still far from home around the globe. Were they okay? Would any of us be "okay"?<br />
<br />
Terrible as that day was, as well as the weeks that followed, there was strength in the brief feeling of national unity. The ubiquitous flag waving has long since disappeared, though, and we are all well aware that national unity seems impossible these days. So, are we simply left with collective grief over lives lost, enemies manifest, and public policy in turmoil?<br />
<br />
No.<br />
<br />
It is a bittersweet day. It seems sacrilegious to be anything but somber when the calendar approaches "9-11." Those who insist that we "never forget" are right. The memories of those lost must be remembered. Efforts to prevent such terrorism must remain a priority for every nation. I'm not going to personally dress in black, though. I mean no disrespect to those who live through this day reliving profound loss. I simply believe that the best way I can respect those losses is to spend this day in gratitude for the many good things I have experience in these past few years. Twelve years ago, I was a newlywed, a new homeowner, and inexperienced teacher. Today I have been married to my very best friend for 12 years, I have been blessed with three amazing children, and I have been able to work and volunteer in a variety of capacities with people of deep commitment to making this world better.<br />
<br />
Today, September 11, 2013 is another beautiful day. It is sunny. The skies here are clear. It is a day of sadness <i>and </i>thankfulness. I have no answers for the evil of the world, but I have more blessings than I can count and a deep gratitude for the good days that outnumber the bad, the good souls who outnumber the bad and a confidence that there is a God who can take the very worst of humanity and make all things good in His perfect timing.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaixkBq2d1NUlAJhva70vLont9ZNXUqXQ2UQIWBjGVoaGVdKztC9FxNBp__6-7CaR97hZax7Q_MYrvc4dRP786qdxaU0ysWq5QneSWiVBANL-kkHiz1hhNbu6cAaDr8XwlYkfDtjBh7gPJ/s1600/IMG_3017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaixkBq2d1NUlAJhva70vLont9ZNXUqXQ2UQIWBjGVoaGVdKztC9FxNBp__6-7CaR97hZax7Q_MYrvc4dRP786qdxaU0ysWq5QneSWiVBANL-kkHiz1hhNbu6cAaDr8XwlYkfDtjBh7gPJ/s320/IMG_3017.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Building together</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
So here are my kids, being themselves and here's what I take away from September 11, 2011. Thank you, God, for the normal days. Thank you for kids playing together and a husband who works hard to care for his family. Thank you for beautiful fall mornings. Thank you for the public servants who take care of us all, often at great personal risk. Guide us through the dark days, and give us gratitude for the many, many good ones.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfVCo4q0a3YPUPrRauKgXCnyQOxoriprWm3h7wFKEjIclwy681rigw1cJyAiXeTGeXZpGJYecUIU6RCQ9-0Fpi7dlH74x9sUFyqj_tFlVZvg9ncPK_gGD4RonaAV7HV6IQl7el9k-VtIVT/s1600/IMG_3024.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfVCo4q0a3YPUPrRauKgXCnyQOxoriprWm3h7wFKEjIclwy681rigw1cJyAiXeTGeXZpGJYecUIU6RCQ9-0Fpi7dlH74x9sUFyqj_tFlVZvg9ncPK_gGD4RonaAV7HV6IQl7el9k-VtIVT/s320/IMG_3024.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our favorite day: garbage day!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01324729309201526017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844145521456887210.post-55438040719743149102013-08-20T12:56:00.000-07:002013-08-20T13:15:53.582-07:00Back to School <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN8I-MjZUVTxjhE-660wSOLA_riidTN2KAjaBg2qwVNc9bqw0h8UX7XbBAr5PK8YPppAZV4Xw5k1BmP2oWScMnCoglLvVjCvuyBJ_yLBypV0mG13Hj7LiWqbicdOJMHqYERRt5P-vZUtnb/s1600/IMG_2935.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN8I-MjZUVTxjhE-660wSOLA_riidTN2KAjaBg2qwVNc9bqw0h8UX7XbBAr5PK8YPppAZV4Xw5k1BmP2oWScMnCoglLvVjCvuyBJ_yLBypV0mG13Hj7LiWqbicdOJMHqYERRt5P-vZUtnb/s320/IMG_2935.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Children who would rather go to school than pose for pictures</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I was doing so well. This morning was the first day of school. Erik was so excited to be back with his friends. Anna was looking forward to being a kindergartner and going to school every day. Even William seemed happy (but then, he usually is). As a mom, the big kindergarten step isn't too tough when its just a new classroom across the hall from Anna's preschool class. We've been through kindergarten before and know that the teacher and curriculum are wonderful. Anna's been looking forward to being in that room for two years now. So, she had no worries about the new school year and Erik was only annoyed we wouldn't let him run into school the moment we pulled into the lot. No need for tears anywhere, right? It's been a good summer, but we're all ready for a little less togetherness. Bring on the school days!<br />
<br />
So, I did great at not being at all snuffly at school. Not one tear shed by anyone in my family on school grounds. Yup, I saved that stuff for myself, at home, putting away my big kindergarten girl's laundry while she was away being all independent and stuff. (Meanwhile, from downstairs, "Maaaa!" says the two year old who has just learned how to open the fridge and freezer and help himself to Popsicles.) So, on with the business of being at home while the big kids are at school. Clean that kitchen -- only halfway -- then marvel that it's already time to pick them up. Already?<br />
<br />
All is well. They had a great first morning. Everyone is happy. Everyone can't wait for tomorrow. Homework was even done in the car <i>on the way home</i>! Success! Success! Success!<br />
<br />
We're home. We eat a little lunch. I put a small, squirrley toddler to bed and prepare to do some read-aloud time with the older kids. Just in time for summer to end, we finished <i>On the Banks of Plum Creek</i> last Friday. To my delight, they have been fully enjoying Laura Ingalls Wilder's books and wanted to get started with the next one, especially since <i>By the Shores of Silver Lake </i>features traveling by train. Certain 7-year old boys still (and always will) love trains. So, happy day, they want to keep reading historical fiction. Sit right here and lets get to it. Enjoying, enjoying ... and then Chapter Two: "Grown Up." I was just a few lines in when I knew this was not going to end well for me. You know, we preview TV shows, movies, and computer things for content. It's just smart parenting to be sure you know what your kids are going to encounter. It's been a few decades since I read this book, but it was harmless. I was not expecting Mrs. Wilder to throw me an emotional fast ball ON THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL. <b>***</b> <b>Spoilers *** </b>You know what happens in "Grown Up"? Laura's dog dies. Her beloved dog Jack goes off to the Happy Hunting Grounds just as her family is about to pack up and move yet again. Crud. By the second paragraph I was sniffing, by the third paragraph I was tearing up. Pretty soon my dear children were patting me and saying, "It's okay, Mom." Sigh, well, assuming I haven't scarred them permanently for seeing their mom sob openly over the death of a fictional dog, maybe they will have that much more respect for the power of a well written story. See, it was merely a back-to-school, language arts lesson.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHQhrzmB9TADHIAWul-GcV8KRgQhKgnDcf1LePVp-jEFYAJEhaRTGeebAsCYf7xEhgBoSoStU2_xCKMpssbSblhDOSlVpkkcp5G3FVxsH2bV2asl6R9QrexZ90cy8eCcwO7o0KuE7Yo8Sr/s1600/IMG_2922.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHQhrzmB9TADHIAWul-GcV8KRgQhKgnDcf1LePVp-jEFYAJEhaRTGeebAsCYf7xEhgBoSoStU2_xCKMpssbSblhDOSlVpkkcp5G3FVxsH2bV2asl6R9QrexZ90cy8eCcwO7o0KuE7Yo8Sr/s200/IMG_2922.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go pet my old dog and tell her she can never go to kindergarten.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01324729309201526017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844145521456887210.post-10429136018145289722013-05-22T12:04:00.000-07:002013-05-22T12:04:03.064-07:00Some observations of the dayToday's insights into my children's minds:<br />
Erik: "When I'm a train engineer, the only time I'm going to stop driving trains is to come to church. Then I'll go back to the trains." Nice.<br />
Anna: "One of my friends thinks there will be ice cream in heave. I don't think so. There will be pickles! And cheese." Okay.<br />
William: "Hee-hee-hee." That's the sound of him giggling after locking me out when I went outside to fix the downspouts. Sigh.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01324729309201526017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844145521456887210.post-55261593700631286022013-04-18T11:44:00.000-07:002013-04-18T11:44:10.722-07:00Quotes of the dayQuotes of the day (all before 8:30 a.m.)<br />
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"Anna, you're an artist of butter! It's like a real painting!" -- Erik, describing Anna's post-pancake breakfast fork and plate art.<br />
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"I don't want a walrus for a pet. They're too blubbery." -- Anna<br />
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William would have something to say, too, if he wasn't so busy sneaking off to the bathroom to treat his brother and sister's toothpaste and toothbrushes like a sweets' table. Eww. Those candy and fruit flavors are apparently too difficult to resist.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01324729309201526017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844145521456887210.post-15627801769472247492013-04-08T11:48:00.002-07:002013-04-08T11:48:45.555-07:00You might be a Lutheran if...On most Sunday nights, Jamieson makes pizza. He has mastered the art of homemade dough and we have a family love affair with <a href="http://www.weyauwegacheese.com/">Weyauwega Cheese</a> (and, frankly, anything that comes from the enormous dairy aisle at Woodman's). Last week, the dough wasn't in top form since our yeast apparently died. Yesterday, new yeast did the trick. Jamieson peeked at the dough when we came in from an afternoon of yard work and said, "That dough is really risen." To which I said the only thing a Lutheran girl can say a week after Easter: "It is risen, indeed!"<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01324729309201526017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844145521456887210.post-10458681716827758322013-04-05T11:38:00.000-07:002013-04-05T11:38:30.608-07:00Looking for the thrill A few weeks ago, a blog post, titled "<a href="http://www.rageagainsttheminivan.com/2013/03/lets-bring-holidays-down-notch.html">Let's Bring the Holidays Down A Notch</a>" caught the eye of many of my friends in Facebook-land because it voiced feelings so many of us have about kids and celebrations. Every last one of us loves doing fun stuff with our families, but the expectations to have Pinterest-worthy holidays and contribute time, money, crafts and/ or food to FUN events at school almost every stinkin' week is a wee bit overwhelming. Now as the Easter-candy hangovers start to wear off, everyone is once again swearing off sweets, toys and projects. Except that June, July and August are coming and it's time to plan a magical, activity filled summer break <i>right now</i>!<br />
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Exhausting, isn't it?<br />
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The consensus seems to be that we keep over entertaining our kids because we, the parents, love it. We are addicted to that moment when the kids come down the stairs and see what "Santa" left, or the thrill of going to school because it's a party day, or whatever the magic moment of the month may be. Thanks to a highly-commercial culture, the easiest way to get that guaranteed spark of childhood joy is to buy it. Buy a new toy; buy 100 eggs to hide around the house; buy into the idea that every kid needs an Etsy-worthy craft to bring home from the party. The problem is that we parent type have to keep working harder and harder to make these magical moments happen. How do we give them joy -- how do we give ourselves joy -- without creating greedy little monsters and a very empty bank account?<br />
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Since seeing that blog post, I've been more conscious of looking for the thrill. I am not gifted in the art of being a hostess, so I will never be able to present my family with any "perfect" celebrations. My children are normal human beings; they would love to have the toys, the parties, the stuff that they know other kids have. On the other hand, they aren't totally jaded yet, and I'm trying to see the moments where they burst with happiness over something simple. Then I can mentally bank those times to remember when our celebration days are more low-key than the events happening in other houses.<br />
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So here's what I've got this week. These are moments that are just as good as Christmas morning. In fact, they were unexpected, so maybe they were just a bit better:<br />
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<ul>
<li><b>"Baby plants!"</b> I have yet to hear Anna shriek about any present the way she does when spring finally comes and those little green shoots start poking up. I couldn't have hidden an Easter eggs as well as God hides the seeds and bulbs that give her such a thrill this time of year. What's even better is that she's out looking every day and it's just as exciting to see a new plant grow taller as it is to see its first peek out of the ground. </li>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggXe2F0su2GNiSgLf3j9Sglyq8kOBwrUuicjqHN2F34NPZ6ZaL30FbWbbaziUsOwMnccBsl0H2K5zecX9dFdK-IbXvVnR0lCORVBDqLTvuN7bxBiSxh-1-COIMdBcfcgRYhIdawH2UKj9A/s1600/IMG_7559.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggXe2F0su2GNiSgLf3j9Sglyq8kOBwrUuicjqHN2F34NPZ6ZaL30FbWbbaziUsOwMnccBsl0H2K5zecX9dFdK-IbXvVnR0lCORVBDqLTvuN7bxBiSxh-1-COIMdBcfcgRYhIdawH2UKj9A/s200/IMG_7559.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Doing a little gardening: <br />A broken rake outside is currently more fun for <br />William than any new toys inside. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<li><b>Bubbles</b>: This morning William and I took a break from putting down mulch and vacuuming out the van to blow some bubbles. There isn't much on earth as cheerful as watching a toddler happily screeching and chasing bubbles. Since he hasn't figured out how to blow bubbles without my help, I think I'm getting points for doing something pretty amazing. </li>
<li>"<b>Cool</b>." The reason my kids hate shopping with me is my tendency to seek out every clearance item in a store. I have three growing kids, so buying a $3 off-season, too-big shirt makes a lot of sense to me. The payoff, beyond the pocketbook, is sometimes finding just the right item to get a smile. Yesterday I happened upon a cheap, red (large) T-shirt. It was goofy: marshmallows on a cocoa mug jumping in and shouting, "Cannonball!" Red and silly seemed a perfect buy for Erik. I put it on his bed and told him later in the day to take a peek at what I found for him. He did, laughed and said, "Cool." It was a simple, but honest reaction. The odds of getting joy from a clothing purchase when a Christmas or birthday present is involved are minimal, but I had a moment of satisfaction for being able to clothe my oldest child in a way that made him happy. </li>
</ul>
<div>
So, there you have it. Nothing spectacular. Nothing to rock the Internet with my profound insights on parenting. And yet enough simple joy of getting it right as a mom, for just a moment, by being with them and seeing what makes them happy. (For cheap!!!)</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01324729309201526017noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844145521456887210.post-83496559695662982282013-03-20T12:03:00.000-07:002013-03-20T12:03:35.019-07:00Doing it right!Kudos to the First Years company for standing behind their product. Not surprisingly, my darling toddler and his razor-sharp new teeth managed to tear through one of their soft-spout sippy cups. I contacted the company to see if I could buy a replacement lid. They kindly send me an entire replacement cup. I was told "just this once" but still, that's wonderful. It was a favorite cup and now it can live on. For now. Anyway, thanks First Years!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01324729309201526017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844145521456887210.post-55232694825694472032013-02-20T11:44:00.002-08:002013-02-20T11:45:00.050-08:00Square peg; round hole? Make a bigger hole! <a href="http://img1.etsystatic.com/004/0/6492199/il_fullxfull.355386537_lj7s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://img1.etsystatic.com/004/0/6492199/il_fullxfull.355386537_lj7s.jpg" width="150" /></a>You know those old Fisher Price shape sorting toys? Do an <a href="http://www.etsy.com/listing/104091951/1977-vintage-fisher-price-toddler">online </a>search for "vintage shape sorter" and you'll see what I mean. It's the yellow cylinder with a lid that has three holes for shapes. Babies are supposed to develop sorting skills and hand-eye coordination by popping the a plastic shape into the matching hole. Well, two weeks in a row, my dear precocious 18-month old son has used that very toy at our library. (We have a similar toy at home, but everyone knows that the toys at someone else's house -- or library -- are much more interesting.) Either when he encounters the a pile of shapes left by another child or when I hand a shape to him and ask him which hole it goes into, he simply pries off the lid, dumps the shape or shapes into the can and clicks the lid back on. Done. Next toy, please.<br />
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You have to give him credit for problem solving a more efficient way to get the job done. Someday, he's either going to be a brilliant student or we're going to get a lot of calls from teachers. Or both.<br />
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(By the way, this same "toddler" is becoming infamous for sneaking into his siblings' classes. So he will be well known to teachers by the time he legitimately attends these classes -- and can verbalize his preferred way to do the assignments.)<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01324729309201526017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844145521456887210.post-86750233508130813872013-01-31T12:29:00.001-08:002013-01-31T12:29:58.874-08:00Sniff, sniff, giggle!Complete surprise of the day: William loves the <a href="http://www.fridababy.com/">NoseFrida</a>! Most of us have colds this week, which means trying to find the most soothing means to calm children who don't have time or interest in such silliness. Dealing with a drippy baby is never fun, but when William had RSV last year we were desperate to ease his sniffles and found the icky, but effective, NoseFrida. (Look it up!) Not surprisingly, he found it as appalling as we did ... until last night. I had misplaced the thing, but when Jamieson relocated it, he didn't run. Instead, he was curious. To my complete surprise, he now finds it to be the funniest thing ever. He loves it. Do you know how hard it is to clean the nose of a child who is laughing? Difficult, but entertaining!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01324729309201526017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5844145521456887210.post-35761838104578662762012-12-16T22:08:00.000-08:002012-12-16T22:08:47.991-08:00Some thoughts on the unthinkableIn 1999, I was a graduate student at Northern Illinois working toward certification as an English teacher. One April evening, the class I was taking did not did not have the usual discussion on curriculum and pedagogy. We talked instead on the tragic news of the day. Among other topics, our instructor asked us if the horrific shooting at Columbine High School affected our desire to become teachers. My answer was impulsive, but true. I wanted to teach more than ever. Honestly, I can't remember what my exact explanation was in the moment, but I know I that day moved me from looking at teaching as a job and into seeing it as a vocation. Unfortunately, it also made it very real that schools were not safe from the world's evils. A few years later, I stood in my own classroom flipping through the school's "incident manual" and thinking through ways that I could possibility protect students of my own in a similar, horrible situation. Then NIU itself suffered through a tragic shooting and the feeling was not just "How could this happen?" but also, "Why, here? Why so close to home?"<br />
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Friday's violence in Connecticut was not physically close to home, but the grief it brings is so physically real. Those children, those beautiful, sweet children, were the same age Erik and his friends. I think I heard the beginning of the news on the radio early in the day, but it didn't register in my mind what the announcers were saying. Thinking it was about the recent mall shooting in Colorado, I turned off the station quickly, as I usually do when any of my kids are in the car and news of violence is reported. Just before heading out to pick up Erik at the end of the school day, I checked my email. The public schools sent out a message recommending ways to address the situation in Connecticut with children. Confused, I checked the news. And then I started crying. I did not wait in the car line to pick up Erik. I parked and stood where his class lines up. I watched the faces of other moms and dads who were all visibly distracted and upset, but trying to keep their emotions out of view of the kids. I took Erik's hand as soon as I saw him and we all went home, where -- for once -- I ignored the clutter and I sat with my kids. There were not enough hugs, kisses or books to be read to satisfy me.<br />
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Almost every night, I end William's bedtime routine by singing the last verse of "Away in a Manger" If you've forgotten, it goes like this: "Be near me, Lord Jesus/ I ask thee to stay/ Close by me forever/ And love me, I pray./ Bless all the dear children/ in thy tender care/ And take us to heaven/ to live with thee there." Saturday night Anna was in the Preschool Christmas Worship service (with a cute little sheep hat, singing every word right in the center of the stage). This morning, Erik was in his Sunday School Christmas service (as a wise man, who sang <i>almost </i>every word, when he wasn't grinning at his friends, the shepherds). In both services, the kids and congregation sang "Away in a Manger." Both times, I first thought it was sweet that William seemed to think we were all trying to sing him to sleep. By the second verse, though, I was crying. I was crying for the children and teachers who won't be celebrating Christmas, or any other holiday, with their families. And I was crying because I can't protect my children. I can do my very best to take care of them when they are sick, to make them fasten their seat belts, to teach them not to talk to strangers. Their school will lock the doors and use every safety procedure. It may not be enough.<br />
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The thought of letting any of the kids out of my sight is now terrifying. Erik and Jamieson went to the final event of his Lego club Saturday morning, a big open house and competition. When I got there and saw a police car parked by the entrance I felt relieved that someone there could keep all the kids safe. Then the squad car drove away and I wondered if the dads manning the entrances really knew what they were doing. Sunday morning during church, William got squirmy and I was about to take him to the nursery, but I just couldn't. I wanted to hold him and listen to Pastor try to assure us that God really is in control, not worry about who might be coming in to the building and walking down the hall. In the morning, every parent in America has to let their child go to school and trust that it will be okay. We will see them again. We will serve snacks and dinner, and do homework and argue over how much computer time is okay and read to them and tuck them in with a kiss. Please, God. Please bring home safely. Every last child.<br />
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I will take Erik to school. I will not drop him off in the car line. I will walk him to the classroom. I will give him a hug. I will exchange glances with other moms that say we will be praying for all of them all day. I will try to fill my day with business so I can stand the wait till he comes home. I will pray and pray and pray. I will pray God protects my child. I will pray God gives his teachers wisdom and courage. I will pray for the peace of the families grieving right now. I will pray that God gives me peace, too, because I <i>know </i>that He loves all these children more than even moms and dads. I <i>know </i>they really belong to Him. I also know that He gave them to <i>us </i>to take care of. We love them. I love my children more than my very own life. And I do not want to give them up. Ever. Please, God, help us all.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01324729309201526017noreply@blogger.com1