Juxtaposition; i.e. Camping with Little Girls

    Camping, the point where man and nature come together once again. Man to bask in the glow of a campfire and the out of doors, and nature to be horrified by all things pink and princess. Codorus State Park in Pennsylvania was descended upon by the Brannon family as a weekend getaway. After camp had been set up, there were things that seemed out of place, not as rustic as to be expected. Of the chairs that ringed the campfire, two were a lovely shade of lavendar and graced with Sleeping Beauty, Belle, and Cinderella, their ball gowns billowing out, not from dancing but from a cool forest breeze and an overactive, smoke producing fire. A princess carriage in the form of a pink tricycle, took the girls to once upon a time and far, far away. Of course, to get to the castle in the distance, the one riding the tricycle wore a crown of protection, in distinct Disney Princess pink.
    The tent with its manly Cabela's label affixed proudly to the deep green rip/stop material belied what was inside. Our sleeping beauties slumbered on a pink, princess air mattress, keeping their little bodies from uncomfortable peas (or rocks) underneath. The girls' 'special blankets,' which when left at home become a travesty, are fluffy, one spinkled with pixie dust from Tinkerbell and the other promising that "Dreams Do Come True" in true princess fashion. The youngest Brannon slept in a cherry blossom bedecked and ruffled crib.
    Walt Disney would have been proud to see our campsite and to hear the girls many comparisons of nature to the princess movies. Pocahontas liked trees and ran 'just around the riverbend.' That lightning bug's name was Ray, like from Princess Tiana. Taking a break in the tent was like Snow White at the Seven Dwarves' house. Perhaps Disney's marketers would be a little more proud any way. Although, the girls should probably not be told that we ate one of Bambi's relatives for dinner while out in the 'wild.'

Siblings

Siblings are the people we practice on, the people who teach us about fairness and cooperation and kindness and caring - quite often the hard way. ~Pamela Dugdale

    Since we've all been home, there have been some intense moments of sibling teasing, rivalry-- whatever you want to call it-- just plain not getting along. The instigator is Caelan. The victim is Evelynn more than half the time. Caelan really enjoys rocking Evelynn's little world. It's something we're working very hard to correct, but there are moments when you just want to laugh. It's cute when they're two, but it won't be so cute when they're older. Tonight's incident made it very difficult not to laugh. Okay, maybe I did laugh, but I had to leave the room.
    Both girls were eating dinner while I was folding laundry. Evelynn's typical cry of someone done completely wrong filled the kitchen. Caelan thought it would be fun to ignore the food in her bowl and take Evelynn's. This is a particular favorite of Caelan's; to take/eat something that Evelynn is playing/eating with. Evelynn, to Caelan's delight, was horrified at the injustice. Caelan had some serious wicked giggles, full of mirth. And per the usual, I told Caelan not to take her food or continue to pick on her sister. Caelan just laughed, "Otay." The okay was not in her eyes, even as I saw her reach towards Evelynn's bowl again. The warning words of "you better not or you will be in trouble" followed and Caelan laughed again, "Otay."
    I tried to impart the wisdom of why she shouldn't tease her sister, why it's not nice to take things from other people, especially if the only reason is to make them upset. The child still laughed, "Otay." She is clearly not taking this instruction. So I told her it was not funny. Caelan looked at Evelynn, giggled and said, "Yes, it is funny." The look of daggers did not pierce the child's nerve. I took one step towards her and it was amazing the difference that one step made. "Otay, Mama, it's not funny. I'm sorry Evelynn." Yes, I had to leave the room. One day, maybe-- hopefully-- she'll get it and Evelynn will forgive her for all the wrongs.

"She is your mirror, shining back at you with a world of possibilities. She is your witness, who sees you at your worst and best, and loves you anyway. She is your partner in crime, your midnight companion, someone who knows when you are smiling, even in the dark. She is your teacher, your defense attorney, your personal press agent, even your shrink. Some days, she's the reason you wish you were an only child." ~Barbara Alpert

Dear Hearts and Gentle People

In August 2004, I found myself moving from sunny, southern Texas to the 'North,' as if it were a distant, foreign land. Pennsylvania-- north of the Mason Dixon. Everything was new and unique, far different than what I had always known. So far it has been an epic adventure. Many life changes have taken place there. I've had three children-- three "Yankee" children as they have been jokingly named by well-meaning family and friends, but "you can't help where you're born." Our girls might not be G.R.I.T.S. (Girls Raised In The South), but we try our best to expose them to the genteel manners of the South about twice a year.


Those who live in the North are sweet, wonderful people, but it might take a few weeks or even years to find out. The natives are private, quiet, they don't dangle their hearts out in front of them, nor do they stretch out their arms to hug complete strangers, telling them "I know your Mama." If they did, the Northerner being hugged would be wondering how they knew Mama or more importantly how does that information make a hug from this stranger okay? Those in the North have big hearts; it just takes time for them to warm up. It's a slow progression. Everything has a time and place, and more than likely it's not now-- they won't be randomly striking up conversations in the produce section of the store, they won't answer you if you're from the South and you ask them where they got their hair done or about that cute purse. When Northerners speak, you better listen up. It will be blunt, to the point-- grating on the ears of the Southerner and their melodic, soothing ways of speaking. Northerners don't waste words. Well, at least until you've known them for a while-- a long while.


After six years of being away from the South, I've felt very aware of my 'Northerness,' even my husband made mention of that. I lived in Texas for 24 years, so you would think my 'Southerness' would run deep enough to hold back the 'Yankee' tide of manners and culture. This most recent trip down, however, has me wondering. Something is missing, or, rather, that some things have changed. I feel caught somewhere between North and South. I love both places, but when I'm in either place I have to remind myself what is proper social protocol. For example, women in the South love to talk. They can talk about anything and peppered with the right amount of "bless your/her/his/its hearts" and a reference or two to 'Mama' or 'Daddy,' they can just about say anything they want to (for good or ill). This is generally for people who are at least acquainted. It's not near as much fun to tell a stranger that 'so-and-so' ran off with another woman and left his wife with two young children, bless her little heart.


For those less acquainted-- strangers-- it really doesn't take long to know quite a bit about about others. I met (and I use the term loosely because I've never seen her before and still don't know her name) an older lady of very fine Southern ways. In less than thirty seconds, I found out that she was cold, had intended on taking a sweater with her when she left the house but forgot, was too busy for naps, worked at a grocery store as a cashier, that she was too old to be the only register open on a Saturday morning of a holiday weekend and told her boss that she really couldn't be doing all that by herself again. This was where I stalled. I felt I should know what to say, do. I was surprised and weirdly fascinated with my confusion on how to respond. Is she talking to me? Why is she telling me this? Is she expecting me to say something? If I do say something, what should it be? Who is this woman any way? What is she really trying to say? But that was it. She fell silent. I never said a word. The interaction ceased. What was the point in telling me all that? Was that purely a social exchange? Like talking about the weather? It would have been a lot simpler to just say "Bless your heart" and let it go, but no, I've lost my Southern finesse in summoning a sincere, non-confused "Bless your heart."


Some may mock the Southern ways but  buried beneath my adopted Northern attitudes and my native, out of practice Southerness, I found the simpleness of Southern speech and their lives deep in my soul, begging me to remember. In a little white house, on a piece of land that has been occupied for decades, I remembered why life here is simple, solid. Life doesn't get any sweeter than honey from Uncle Jay's bees nor is it as flavorful as the tomatoes grown in the summer sun. Life is lived in a steady course day after day. While some things have changed, their morals and principles have never wavered. Faith is simple. It is what it is because, well, it is. In her quiet, unassuming way, Aunt Katie told me about her life in less than thirty seconds. "Things may get hard. Life has a way of bein' hard, but that's okay. As long as you got the Lord beside ya, everything will be just fine. Y'all be all right." I knew what to say that time. A simple "Yes, ma'am." Simple wisdom from a simple woman.

Standing there in Aunt Katie's kitchen, an old tune ran through my mind, Bing Crosby weaving his way through her words and Uncle Jay's stories of being in the Navy during WWII and growing up in backwoods Arkansas.  

I love those dear hearts and gentle people

Who live in my hometown

Because those dear hearts and simple people

Will never ever let you down

They read the Good Book

From Fri to Monday

That's how the weekend goes

I've got a dream house

I'll build there one day

With picket fence and ramblin' rose

I feel so welcome each time that I return

That my happy heart keeps laughing like a clown

I love those dear hearts and gentle people

Who live and love in my hometown

Home, home, sweet home

Home, home, sweet home

So while I find myself caught hovering on either side of the Mason Dixon, I have to appreciate the talkative nature of the Southerners for they truly are dear hearts and gentle people.

Summer Thrills

    Ahhhh, summer fun. This last Wednesday, Keith and I decided that Evelynn and Caelan were old enough to go to Magic Springs and its water park (the name escapes me at the moment... something like Crystal Falls?) The girls were ecstatic. Pools of water, slides, and kid pools delighted them for hours. We took them down the 'lazy river' on a tube. Apparently I was the only one who preferred to stay on the tube. Once we found the kid's pool, complete with three slides, we spent countless minutes there. Keith at the top, making sure they went down all right and me at the bottom to catch.

    I soon found that Evelynn did not want me to help her. This was a new development in her four-year-old independence. I was slightly nervous, water and swimming are great but can quickly go wrong. She would quickly walk up the steps, choose which slide she wanted, easily slide down it and bounce back up out of the water to repeat it all. No problem. Then she began swimming "under water," her face in the water and paddling. This was huge. She has never liked her face or head to be in the water, but she was so proud and excited to do it this time. My Evelynn didn't really need me.

    There wasn't much time to think about this as I saw Caelan barreling down the slide. Her tiny, feather-weight body tossed by the water. If I didn't catch her as she hit the water, the force of the water would shove her under and keep her there. I was definitely needed here. After her first run, I thought she would be done. Maybe a little too much? Uh, not so much. This is Caelan. Let's do it again and again and again-- The water park was perfect for my little fish in training.

    Then on to the rides. There were only a few rides that Caelan could ride. Most of the rides required a minimum of 36 inches in height. Her 34 inches not quite cutting it. The rides we did go on required Keith and me to ride with the girls. That was more fun any way-- or so I thought. One ride we went on spun around and the individual cars would spin as well according to how much the people in the car wanted it to go. I used to like these rides back in the day. They somewhat resembled the Tilt-a-Whirl or the Scrambler for those of you who remember Fun Land. Evelynn rode with Keith and Caelan rode with me. Keith and Evelynn started spinning their car before the ride started. I was thankful I was not in with them! Caelan, watching their fun, decided she wanted to spin, too. I started it, thinking we wouldn't spin too fast. I have no idea how she did it, but Caelan got that car spinning so fast, I thought I was going to be sick. She was laughing and thrilled. I was less than happy and green. The ride stopped. Keith and Evelynn quickly got off, Caelan even beat me out of our car. I had to take a few moments. So my two and a half year old is a thrill seeker.

  We went on to other rides. Evelynn riding a couple more than Caelan because of height. One of these was a runaway mine train. It was small, jerky and Evelynn loved it. She tells everyone that she rode on a roller coaster. Caelan was crushed that she was too small to ride. I foresee many roller coasters and theme parks in our future. I just don't know if I will be the one to ride with them.

Things that make you stop and think

1. Splenda when eaten out of the sugar bowl becomes a clear, near super glue type substance on the container and countertop.

2. That McKenna is the smiliest baby of them all.

3. If I feel one of them crawl into our bed in the early morning hours and I get kicked in the head, it will be, hands down, Evelynn.

4. If I lose Caelan, I should always start by looking up.

5. That weird things happen when Keith is gone: my children quit sleeping, they fight more, the dog ignores me, mice infiltrate my home and die in random places, it will snow or the lawn will need to be mowed, a toilet will need to be plunged at least once...

6. That I will have moments when I don't know how to respond or should refrain from saying the first thing I think of:
      ~ "I need bandaids for my eyes."
      ~ "It's okay. Accidents happen." An accident happens maybe 10% of the time
      ~"It's okay, Caelan. That's a big mess, but Mom will clean it up."
      ~"I have donut in my belly button."
      ~"Can I listen to you now?" Sure, anytime. Generally said after they've been in trouble for not listening.
      ~"Evelynn did it," says Caelan even if we're talking about her own dirty diaper.
      ~"McKenna did it," says Caelan if I don't take the previous explanation. Middle child? Yes.
      ~ "She's eating dogfood."
      ~" What color is Clifford the Big Red Dog?"
      ~"What is your name Mama (or Caelan, Evelynn, etc.)?"
      ~"She's allright, Mama. I just (insert: hit, pulled, bit, pushed, etc.) her," said amidst the other's tears.
      ~"I'm a reindeer princess with a cow."
     
7. Only Caelan can watch T.V. while standing on her head.

8. Evelynn will sing a song regardless of knowing the lyrics. She makes up her own.

9. Every night my kids will think there is always something more important than actually going to sleep.

10. Every night Evelynn will include "thank you for our Christmas tree" in her prayers, even months, years since the first time she was thankful for it.

11. If I let them, they would eat yogurt by the gallons.

12. My children are extremely social and count many adults as their friends. Oh, how they love their special people.

13. I am so blessed to have my children and those special people in my life.

There are MANY more things I've learned since having children, but this is just a smattering. I'm sure there will be other posts along these lines.

Impish, Definition: Caelan

I have yet to grasp a way to define my Caelan in written word. Her list of adjectives and characteristics seems infinite. 'Impish' is the latest word I have added to the list. What else can I say when I see that glint of mischief in her eyes? She is queen of the deadpan stare down, but her eyes tell a story of their own. You can see the laughter, the ideas, the plans, the devilish pranks but very rarely can you see the logic (it's all her own) or predict what she will do next. Every once in a while I get the feeling that she's about to do something, but whatever that is, I still have no clue in figuring it out beforehand. Very rarely can I read the plans that she has in mind.

A couple of days ago, I sat down to sort the mail but soon found Caelan in my lap instead. Facing me, she had the deadpan 'I'm about to do something' look. I know because she has a small dimple at the corner of her mouth. This is the only physical outward sign that she's up to something. She doesn't always have it except in moments when her plans are too joyous for her to contain. No smiling, no laughter-- just a dimple and shining eyes. I stared back. We watched each other for about five minutes. Her eyes never shifting from my face and the dimple ever present. I finally began to catch on. "You better not lick me, Caelan." She giggled. Aha! I was exultant that I knew what she was doing before actually doing so. She immediately regained her composure. No giggles and still watching me. I had the hardest time not laughing. For whatever reason, Caelan thinks it's hilarious to lick people who are least expecting it.

We watched each other for another five minutes or so. I now can visualize the meaning of 'dancing eyes.' Her eyes were swimming in mirth. "I'm serious," I said not adept at keeping my smile and laughter in check, "Do not lick me." Her eyes never left my face and she giggled again. A few more minutes passed. Evelynn walked in and asked me something. Turning to answer Evelynn, I felt my middle child's tongue licking me from my jaw, up my cheek, my temple and then my forehead. Her laughter was uncontainable. She was beside herself. She had conquered time and patiently waited for her one moment to fulfill her plan. Yes, impish.

Persuasion According to Evelynn

         "If you would persuade, you must appeal to interest rather than intellect." ~ Benjamin Franklin

Evelynn has, for a long time, been comfortably and happily sleeping in her room which she calls the "Green Room." She loves her room and is very proud that it is hers (and not Caelan's, too). This room was once the guest room, and while we were attempting to move her into her own room and her own bed, we found that she preferred this room. This was the room Grandma & Grandpa and Mema & Papa stayed in when they came to visit, and I'm sure the king sized bed she sleeps in has something to do with her love for her room. She curls up in the middle of it every night and whispers, "This is my room, and it's my favorite color." So she chose her room and since it meant she went to bed in her own room and fell asleep without problems, the room was hers.

Last night she went to bed as usual. Content but definitely not ready to go to sleep. At about 10 o'clock, I heard her quietly saying, "Mom, I need you." I tried to ignore it thinking she would eventually go to sleep. She repeated herself becoming louder each time. Afraid that she was about to wake her sisters, I went in to see what she needed. Sitting on the edge of the bed, little feet kicking, she smiled, "I was calling for you. I need you." She's just too cute, I thought as I said, "What do you need?" Tilting her head to the side and using her sweetest, low voice asked, " Can you sleep with me?" I explained to her that she needed to sleep in her bed and I in mine. Dropping her eyes, she pressed her lips together, trying not to cry. She said, "Ok..." with every ounce of heartbreak she could manage to fit into that one word.

At this point, Keith came in to see what was going on and laid down next to her. She was somewhat satisfied that someone laid down with her. "I have an idea," she said, "Daddy can sleep with me." Another explanation conveying the "no" was almost too much for her. She rolled over so she wouldn't see us. Her lower lip now protruding, trying her hardest not to make a sound or cry. Her eyes were rimmed with unshed tears-- and being the person that I am, I had to smother my laughter. She was still for a few minutes before saying, "Daddy, can you sleep in my bed?" Keith didn't verbally agree, but we were both thinking that maybe he would just stay in there until she went to sleep. Realizing that her Daddy was settling in to her bed, she jumped up and put her arms around my neck, "Mom, I can sleep in your bed with you now. Daddy's sleeping in my bed."