Rachel Callahan

Regarding the Fate of my Hand.

November 7, 2011November 6, 2011 Rachel Callahan A Day in the Life, I embarrass myself just for your amusement., Just My Luck

To fully understand the story of what happened to my hand, you must first have an understanding of where I live.

Our neighborhood is adjacent to a very prestigious suburb of Birmingham. We have no pretenses that our adjacency makes us included in any way – we are unincorporated, not belonging to any city.

Which is perfect for us, because one of the main benefits of paying a high price for a house around here is the school system. And, since we’re homeschooling, we didn’t want to pay for a school system we weren’t going to use. Therefore, our house cost half of what our neighbor’s houses cost, and that makes us very happy.

However, this does make all of our local errands feel strange. Since all of the retail centers around us are a part of this prestigious city, we feel a bit…awkward.

Not to say that the people of said prestigious city make us feel awkward – they’re all very nice.

(Except for one who, when I told her I had children the same age as hers, implying that we should have a playdate sometime, was very quick to answer “Yes, but our kids are in different districts.” Thank goodness we got that cleared up – I’d hate to spread our unincorporated cooties to her kid’s school.)

Anyway. Back to feeling awkward. We just, sometimes, feel like the misfits. As if we’re wearing a big sign on our forehead that says “UNINCORPORATED – DON’T FEEL LIKE YOU HAVE TO INCLUDE US.”

So. I needed to get my hair cut. And since my last couple of visits to the Aveda Training Salon have been less than thrilling (and I have this theory that every time you go, they give you someone less and less experienced, leading to my very last visit when my stylist had never even cut anyone’s hair like mine EVER BEFORE and my hair isn’t that unusual), I wanted a new salon.

(By the way, apparently having one hand in a cast makes you type in lots of run-on sentences. For this, I apologize.)

I saw a Groupon-esque coupon come up for a salon near my house – i.e. in the aforementioned prestigious city. Despite the fact that salon prices in said city would normally be unbelievably mortgage-your-unincorporated-house high, the deal was pretty good, so I bought it.

Close by, good deal – what more could you want?

Oh yeah – to not feel awkwardly out of place.

So I headed to the salon in the prestigious city on the prestigious street with an intention of minding my unincorporated manners.

I was surrounded by prestigious people getting their prestigious hair done while reading prestigious magazines and texting on their prestigious phones with the volume turned all the way up and therefore making loud (yet prestigious) beep-boop-beep-boops for HOURS ON END.

My hair appointment took quite a while, and I kept up my manners and tried to not let on that I was an alien from outer city.

I paid, I tipped well, and I left, cheering myself on for not even feeling too out of place.

I opened the door and stepped out of the salon…

And didn’t see that there was a STEP there.

I fell off the doorstep and twisted my leg. As I was falling, I made a desperate attempt to save myself from certain stupidity and embarrassment by reaching back to catch myself.

Which I did accomplish, but unfortunately, what I grabbed was the doorframe.

Where the heavy glass-and-steel door was rapidly approaching it’s home.

And it didn’t appreciate that it had a hand in it’s home.

CRUNCH.

So there I was, half fallen over, twisted calf, hand crunched and bleeding in the door, and the whole prestigious salon has paused and was looking at me and my unincorporated bloody hand in horror.

“I’m okay! …Sorry!!”

I ashamedly removed my now defunct hand from the door and shut it, hobbling away from the salon on my twisted leg as quickly as possible.

I got to my car and tried to get my keys, but my right hand wouldn’t work – at all.

My left hand begrudgingly took over, getting my keys and reaching around to start the car. All the way home, my hand was in complete pain overdrive – I learned a long time ago that hand pain was the worst type, and this injury was no exception.

By the time I got home, my hand had grown to an impressive size, leaving my left hand feeling small and unimportant:

But I decided to wait it out. Surely the swelling would subside soon…

But two days later, I still couldn’t use my fingers very well. And the swelling, although slightly down, was still quite impressive.

(Plus, my friend Lydia reminded me how many bones are in the hand, and I began having visions of tiny crushed bone fragments swimming around in my hand and a half.)

So on Friday, I finally went in to get it X-Rayed.

“There aren’t any actual breaks, but you damaged all of the ligaments and seriously bruised the bones. Which actually takes just as long to recover from than if you had gone ahead and broken them.”

And so, for at least the next two weeks, this is what righty will look like.

(But that’s okay, because I know something that you don’t know.)

(I’m not right-handed.)

But the moral of this story is, if you shop, dine, and get your hair done in prestigious cities where you don’t belong, they might eventually put invisible steps out to make you trip and fall.

I’m Taking a Sick Day.

November 4, 2011 Rachel Callahan Football and I have a Complicated Relationship, Just My Luck, Newsflash

And unfortunately, I can’t blame this one on sleepwalking.

Bruised bones, compressed tendons, and some awesomely nasty swelling.

As soon as I figure out how to effectively type again (and change diapers and carry a baby and fix meals, and, and, and…), I will be sure to share the story.

But until then, it’s your turn to blog for me!

I’ve picked up several new readers lately, and so you newbies may not realize that I have a deep and possibly obsessive desire to get to know you all. I love your comments, emails, and reading your blogs, and I have what I’m sure is a drastically wrong mental image of what each and every one of you look like.

If you’ve never introduced yourself (or want to further introduce yourself), this is your opportunity to do so. Say hey, tell me a little about you, and link to your blog if you have one. I’d love to say hey back!

(When I can figure out how to type with a cast, anyway.)

And, whether you’re new or old or have been here from the beginning, if you have anything you’ve been dying to ask me, well this is your chance, too. Last time I opened up the floor for questions, it took three posts to answer them all!

(If you’d like to review, the answers can be found here, here, and here.)

So ask anything, and you’ll give me something to think about tomorrow while I’m sitting around in Tuscaloosa all day. And, speaking of…

If you’re going to The Game of The Century tomorrow (you know which one) and would like to meet in person, I’ll be there from morning on and would love to meet! Just leave a comment and I’ll email you directions to where we tailgate, assuming you don’t sound like a mass murderer or anything. We love visitors! Except for murderers.

Okay – that’s it. Off to rest my hand and make Ali serve me. It’s about time she did the serving, after all.

Ali, on Fanciness.

November 3, 2011November 2, 2011 Rachel Callahan A Day in the Life, I'm a Glutton for Adventure, Kids: The Experience.

Naturally, a lot of our life revolves around Noah right now.

His often and stringent nap schedule,

His crappy diapers,

His need for food,

His obsession with putting everything in his mouth and therefore preventing his sister from freely playing with all of her favorite little things,

Him, him, him.

Due to this unbalanced state of our household, Chris and I felt like we should take Ali out on a special date, sans baby brother, and lavish some two-on-one attention upon her.

And, since she inherited her father’s gene of loving anything that can be dipped (she has been known to gleefully dip watermelon in honey mustard sauce), we decided to treat her to a super fancy fondue date at The Melting Pot.

So we let Ali dress up in her sparkliest fanciest outfit and dumped Noah at his Godparents’ house, where he provided the invaluable service of methodically showing them every single item they owned that was breakable, edible, annoyingly loud when banged upon other items, and otherwise un-babyproofed.

(He is opening his own business and will be offering this service to expecting parents and grandparents – $200 for 2 hours of babyproofing consulting. Watch for his contact info on an infomercial near you.)

Back to the super special date.

About ten minutes after we left their house, Ali sighed loudly from the backseat.

“What’s wrong, honey?”

“I wish Noah was with us. I miss him. A LOT.”

We assured her that only she was mature and fancy enough for this sort of date (“Just like Fancy Nancy??” “Yes, JUST like Fancy Nancy.”), and she perked up just fine when we arrived and introduced her to The Forks.

She was greatly anticipating Fancy Dip-Dip, but Chris might have been a tad bit more excited.

The cheese arrived, along with it’s bread, veggies, and apples to dip in it.

We told Ali that it was going to be the best Cheesy Dip-Dip of her life.

She watched our waitress mix it, stir it, and melt it with intense excitement.

And then we dipped.

She took a bite, and immediately declared that she didn’t like the cheese at all, but that she would be willing to eat the apples and bread, just no cheese please.

We gladly ate her portion of cheese while she was much more interested in playing with the blinds than the amazing feast of awesome that was in front of her.

So, we failed on the cheese. But we were okay, because we knew that it would be breaking multiple Universal Laws of Physics for her to not adore the Chocolate Dip-Dip.

So we licked our wounds and began hyping dessert.

“They’re going to bring brownies and cake and marshmallows and fruit … all to dip in CHOCOLATE!!!”

We got the Yin Yang, which is half dark chocolate, half white chocolate.

She tried the dark first…

while Chris looked on with a bit of drool on his lip.

She tasted it.

She thought.

She said, “eh…”

Then she dipped something in the White Chocolate.

“I like the vanilla better…but I think I would just rather eat the strawberries with no dip on them at all.”

And so she proceeded to do just that.

In summary, Ali’s favorite parts of going to The Melting Pot were:

The blinds.
The bread pieces.
The apples.
The strawberries.
Tic Tac Toe.

Next time we feel the need to lavish special attention upon our daughter, we will spend significantly less money in our efforts.

…then again, splitting cheese and chocolate for three between two isn’t such a bad deal.

Siri and Me, Sitting in a Tree.

November 1, 2011October 31, 2011 Rachel Callahan Utter Silliness

Chris surprised me for my birthday – I mean, completely surprised me. I thought I had already received all of my birthday goodness, especially including a particularly awesome trip.

And then he gave me a brand new shiny happy iPhone 4s.

I was so confused by his extravagant gift that I didn’t even open it at first – I wasn’t sure if I should keep it.

I mean sure, Noah had drooled into my old iPhone so often that it barely wanted to work (a condition which also may have been attributable to a few not-so-soft drops on tile and hardwood flooring).

(Drops of the phone, not Noah. His drool is a natural phenomenon.)

It turned out really well for Chris, because I was shocked and amazed at my unexpected present, thereby awarding him major brownie points, and do you know how much it cost him?

NINE DOLLARS.

He paid $199 for my 4s, and we sold my old 4 through Ebay Instant Sale the next day for $190.

And I still let him keep all of those brownie points.

So. After playing with my new toy for a couple of weeks, by far my favorite feature (aside from it actually WORKING) is, of course, Siri.

For those of you who have not yet been introduced, Siri is like a sarcastic version of the computer from The Enterprise, except in the palm of my hand. She can do brilliant things, like tell me the current weather in Walla Walla, find me the nearest gas station, inform me of the calories in spaghetti, and search for real miniature giraffes on the internet.

I can simply talk into the phone to ask a question, and she answers it verbally, as well as putting the answer up on the screen.

Oh – and she’ll call me whatever I tell her to. “Your Highness” and “Queen Rachel” are my current favorites.

(You can see why I value our friendship so highly.)

Here are some of my favorite conversations with her so far…helpful stuff, I’m telling you.

I have no idea how I managed to previously function without her.

Speaking of functions, she’s also helpful in that area.

But she can be a bit grouchy at times.

…and she doesn’t seem to mind my flip-flopping emotions towards her.

Getting her to talk about herself, though, is a challenge.

Her general avoidance of answering personal questions is especially bothersome to Ali (who is also obsessed with Siri), because Ali is particularly curious as to how old Siri is. But no matter how many times we ask her, she refuses to tell us.

However, she is great for a serious conversation now and again.

And she gets a bit motherish at time, with a nice bowl of virtual hot soup and a dose of good advice.

However, her mothering does have it’s limits.

But what she’s best at is providing extremely helpful information in a moment of need.

And she doesn’t mind playing along on some worn out jokes, a trait sorely needed by non-sentient beings everywhere.

And, even after wearing her down with all of my mindless chatter, she still helps me remember to mind my manners – for the kid’s sake, after all.

She is, hands-down, the best nine dollar servant that my husband has ever gifted me with.

Now if I can only keep her from getting drooled upon by those whom I serve…

Geography Geektasticness.

October 31, 2011August 26, 2015 Rachel Callahan A Day in the Life, Anal Retentivity to a Fault, Geography Games, Homeschooling: Not just for the socially awkward anymore., Kids: The Experience., Pop Post

Disclaimer: Nerdalicious Homeschooling Post ahead. Feel free to skip if you don’t give a flip.

After Ali learned all of her states (and a lot of countries) a couple of years ago, she lost interest in geography (or maybe I did…or both), and so she forgot many of them. However, thanks to some of her favorite iPad apps, she has had a renewed obsession, and knows them better than ever.

“Hey Mom, look!! This chip looks just like South Carolina!!”

“I bet I can eat my piece of cheese into the shape of Brazil!!”

And, since my guiding philosophy for preschool homeschooling is to focus on what they’re interested in at that moment, we’ve been making states and countries a part of everything we’ve been doing.

…And I’ve been using it as a secret weapon to get her interested in other things.

Ali has been hesitant to draw at all lately – she has quite a complex that she “can’t” draw. So I thought that perhaps tracing something she was consumed with would help her regain her confidence in drawing.

So we got out a black and white outline of the United States and a big piece of paper, and set to work tracing together.

At first, she was all like, “I can’t trace that” and “Can you help me with the wiggly lines?” But I finally convinced her that she could indeed do it, and pure dweebish excitement soon followed.

I traced the eastern side and she did the western and midwestern sections, highly focused and quite perfectionistically.

And she was quite proud of our finished product. Actually drawing the states further solidified in her mind where and what they all were.

(And she might have helped me out with which was Vermont and which was New Hampshire.)

Once she had her map, she wanted to know which states I had been to…then her, then Noah, then Chris. You get the point.

So, because I constantly sometimes tire of answering the same questions over and over, I decided that marking down this information was a perfect use of our map, and she was thrilled for the project.

There is nothing that fulfills Ali’s soul more than to have a legend, so over the next week, she spent her playtime calling various friends and family members and painstakingly quizzing them, state by state.

Every time she would get a dot in a previously un-visited state, she would do a delighted squeal, jump, and fist pump.

“Have you been to Montana?”

(sigh) “Mommy – Kitty hasn’t been to Montana.”

“Have you been to North Dakota?”

(squeal) “Mommy – Kitty’s been to NORTH DAKOTA!!!!”

Her map has become her prized possession – her passion in life.

So far, we don’t know anyone who has been to Maine, Vermont, New Hampshire, or Rhode Island. And Ali is not happy about their lack of color.

…but I have a feeling that she won’t give up until she’s checked every box and colored every lonely state.

Because living a life with unchecked boxes is not really living at all.
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You might also like this list of 215 Read-Alouds for Children:

The Elevator Incident.

October 28, 2011October 27, 2011 Rachel Callahan A Day in the Life, I embarrass myself just for your amusement., I'm a Glutton for Adventure, Just My Luck, Kids: The Experience., Parent of the Year

So my friend Christen and I went to the mall on Wednesday.

…along with our two strollers and five kids.

…ages 4, 3, 2, 10 months, and 8 months.

(Each child, by the way, adds degree of difficulty points in the classical mall game Avoid the Kiosk Predators.)

We began by eating Chick-Fil-A – our standard diet. Amazingly, everyone ate, no one spilled a drink, and no one cried.

A good day, indeed.

Then we decided to treat the kids to playtime on the Hot Dog Truck, a fond place with many memories.

But first, we headed back to Chick-Fil-A for drink refills. Mammas need their caffeine.

Fully armed and ready to take our parade o’ crazy upstairs, we rounded the corner to the elevators and pushed the button.

The doors dinged, so we and our impressive entourage headed toward it.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw another woman also headed our way. It was one of those awkward moments where you’re not sure if she was waiting before you, and whether or not you should pause and allow her the elevator right-of-way.

But I didn’t.

(At the time, it seemed that trying to stop our herd to allow her through would take longer than simply allowing the momentum to continue and then let her board after us.)

(This was a wrong assumption.)

Aubrey, the two year old, made it onto the elevator first.

Luke, the three year old, was behind her.

Ali was somewhere, but I don’t quite know where.

Christen and I made the mistake of both pushing our strollers toward the elevator at the same time, thereby blocking either of us from being able to reach said destination.

Then the doors began to close.

Aubrey inside,

Luke IN the doorway.

Christen yelled and lunged for the button.

She didn’t make it, but the doors sensed Luke and stopped.

Then we both tried to board again.

At the same time.

(I take full responsibility for this awkward moment of stroller blockage, seeing as how it was her children on the elevator, and mine was nowhere in sight. CLEARLY, I should have backed off.)

(Unfortunately, these sorts of thoughts don’t happen to me in the appropriate split seconds.)

The doors began to close.

Aubrey inside,

Luke, puzzlingly, still in the doorway.

Luke jumped back out of the elevator, and the doors sealed shut.

Aubrey was still inside, and about to take her first solo trip in the glass elevator.

This time, Christen jammed her stroller into the doors, yelling for her two year old, or at the doors, or something.

Levi, the baby in said stroller, began squealing in protest of being made into a human barricade.

(And he has quite the impressive mall-shaking squeal, might I add.)

The Lady also wanting to board the elevator – oh, she was still there, looking on in horror.

Christen managed to make it to the button just in time to make the doors reopen. Since she was at the button and not driving her stroller, I hurriedly jammed Noah and my stroller into the elevator doorway, trying to prevent a charming third event.

When I got halfway through the doors, they began to close (thereby winning the award for MOST OVERAMBITIOUS ELEVATOR DOORS EVER), this time catching my cupholder in the melee, which crunched and knocked out my freshly refilled Large Unsweet Tea. I watched in horror as my drug of choice dropped and rapidly leaked into the elevator shaft, doorway, elevator, mall floor, my shoes, and everywhere else it could possibly seep.

I left my only son jammed in the elevator doorway, picked up my abusively deformed caffeinated beverage, and ran to the nearby trash can, dripping all the way.

When I got back, God must have caused one of those cool time-freezing moments like he did a couple times in the Old Testament, because we managed to actually get two strollers, five children, and two Mammas through the elevator doors.

I held the “Doors Open” button with an especially firm fingertip as we counted our brood.

And then I saw The Lady – still standing in front of the elevator, looking a bit awestruck.

“Um, do you still want to get on with us? It may or may not be safe.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Are you SURE??”

She delicately stepped over my ice and tea and squeezed herself between Christen’s stroller and the wall, looking warily at each of the children surrounding her as if they were an encroaching brigade of rabid paramilitary.

And then we rode up, pretending to be dignified, totally together, in-control Moms.

I don’t think she bought it.

Shop Birmingham–And a Giveaway!

October 27, 2011November 12, 2013 Rachel Callahan Giveaways and Contests, I Love Birmingham

As I’ve mentioned before, I’m a huge proponent of shopping and dining locally.

Alabama has an unbelievable wealth of local merchants, artisans, and restaurants, and the more we support these businesses, the more of our money stays in Alabama and makes it an even better place to live.

I do better dining locally than I do shopping locally, because let’s face it: I have two kids in tow. Amazon is, on most days, a lot more pragmatic.

However, I’ve found a site that can help me shop locally while being able to shop from my computer – how awesome is that??

Shop Birmingham offers online shopping from many local stores – browsing their online marketplace is so exciting, especially for gift giving!

And, speaking of convenient online shopping, you can buy gift certificates for many local stores online – a great way to support the local economy when you’re running late on buying a present!

But Shop Birmingham is so much more than just that. They are a resource featuring menus, gift certificates, products, services, and general contact information for many local businesses in the Birmingham metro area.

Also, it’s a great opportunity for local merchants. At no charge whatsoever, they can list their business information and up to five items for sale in the online shop. It’s a great way to get recognized as a local business, and to be able to easily offer online ordering! They also offer more in depth services for a fee, so they can get as much value as they desire out of the site.

But if you’re not in Birmingham, don’t despair! Shop Birmingham is expanding rapidly. They currently have two more sister sites, Shop Mountain Brook and Shop Homewood, and are planning on expanding throughout the state! Keep your eyes out for a a site near you in the future.

Now for the giveaway part: Shop Birmingham gave me five awesome T-Shirts to give away to you!

AND, as a bonus, the five winners will be put into a drawing to possibly win two tickets to a show at the Alys Stephens Center!

Now – back to the shirts. They are a great way to remind people of the value of shopping locally – and they’re awesome looking shirts, too. They sell on Shop Birmingham for $20 each, and they wear very nicely – I’ve been enjoying one myself the last few weeks.

AND if you’re not from Birmingham, feel free to still enter!! You can have a souvenir from your favorite blogger’s (ahem) hometown.

I have the following colors/sizes to give away to five of you:

3 Grey Larges
1 Brown Large
1 Brown Medium

If you would like to win one, just comment on this post and tell me which shirt you’d like to have. But hurry!! This giveaway is only open until Monday, October 31st.

If you’d like extra entries into this giveaway, you can get up to four of them by:

Checking out ShopBirmingham.com and tell me one thing you like from the Local Marketplace.
Follow or subscribe to my blog.
Tweet, blog, OR Facebook about this giveaway.
Follow me on Twitter OR Facebook

(be sure to leave separate comments for your extra entries.)

Again, this giveaway is only open until Monday, October 31st. The winner will be randomly selected and posted on my giveaway winners page on Tuesday, November 1st.

Good luck!!

Disclaimer: I was not compensated to write this post. Shopping locally is an awesome thing to do no matter where you live. Try it, you’ll like it.

The Gyrobowl: Smarter Than A Baby?

October 26, 2011October 25, 2011 Rachel Callahan Actually Possibly Informational, NoahBlogs, Toddlers: The Experience

Hi World – It’s Noah, back as a guest blogger again!

(Did ya miss me??)

I know, I know. I haven’t been blogging as much as I used to, but I’m far too busy in my evil plot to destroy all of The Servant’s electronic devices to actually sit down and use one.

(Hey – did you know if you aim a drool bomb directly into the microphone jack of an iPhone, it will disable your Servant from hearing anything on their phone except on speakerphone for approximately 12.75 hours? It’s great if you want to hear both sides of their conversations.)

(Also? This trick works over and over and over again – I have impeccably aimed drool.)

(Ooh, ooh – and the metallic sides of the iPhone 4 taste AMAZING – just like the aftertaste of Gorgonzola Cheese!! You should try it if you’re ever out of nasty cheese.)

But I digress. I just wanted to pop in for a quick product review of The GyroBowl. You know – that bowl that you supposedly can’t spill, no matter what you do with it??

The servants are total suckers for an interesting “As Seen On TV” product (except for Snuggies. No matter how many times I ask, they won’t get me the Super Plush Infant Snuggie!! I don’t get it. Super plush!!).

Anyway, so when they saw the Gyrobowl fall down the stairs and not spill a crumb on it’s commercial, and then they saw one for sale in Wal-Mart, they were like sitting consumer ducks.

So they totally bought me one.

I took the whole “unspillable” concept as an affront to my ability to thoroughly disperse all manners of matter, so I accepted their grievously offensive challenge.

You think I can’t spill the unspillable bowl? Give it to me and let me try.

I have to admit that I was impressed with my inability to immediately spill it into my crotch, my favorite place to store excess food.

But I was not deterred. Nay, I was determined!!

And I did not disappoint myself. Within seconds, I had marked my territory and proven that the Gyrobowl was not so Gyroriffic after all.

Then I laughed with my Doofenshmirtz cackle as The Servant cleaned it all up and naively gave me another bowl of Goldfish.

And in 2.73 seconds, I did this:

And then again,

And again.

(But at least I did manage to put one Goldfish in my mouth that last time. I think it made The Servant pull out one less of her eyelashes in despairing frustration.)

At any rate, I found three distinct ways to deproof the Babyproof bowl:

1. Turn the bowl over at a very fast speed while simultaneously jerking it to the side. This requires the use of specific angles and cosines that I calculated beforehand with the help of The Servant Who Calls Himself Daddy’s Reverse Polish Notation Calculator.

Or, if you don’t have one of those handy,

2. Simply hold the bowl in place with your thumb to keep it from turning when you dump it. So easy!! So effective!!

But if you want to add a touch of pizazz to your dumping,

3. Get a goldfish stuck in between the bowls, thereby preventing the gyration of the bowl altogether.

In summary, I found this bowl to not slow my spill processes down at all – in fact, I would say that it’s claims reek with the stench of one of my Masterpiece Diaper Creations, which, coincidentally enough, are also not spill-proof.

But then again, what did they expect? I am, after all, an Artisan Mess Maker.

Disclaimer: Gyrobowl did not pay Noah to write this review, nor did they offer to pay him NOT to write this review. His opinions and abilities are entirely his own. No representation is made that the quality of spillings provided by this baby are greater than the quality of spillings provided by any other baby.

An Unexpected Undertaking of the Camping Variety.

October 24, 2011October 23, 2011 Rachel Callahan A Day in the Life, I'm a Glutton for Adventure, Kids: The Experience., The Blissfulness of Life

Saturday Night, 6:51 PM: I. AM. SUPERMOM.

The overwhelming emotions of victory and exultation washed over me. At a time when I should have been exhausted and comatose, I was instead cheering for myself with gusto and pride.

It all started last week…

10 days ago: Ali randomly popped out from the backseat,

“I want to go camping!!”

Chris and I looked at each other. We used to camp before we had kids, but notsomuch with our little tagalongs.

“Do you even know what camping is?”

“Yes! It’s where you sleep in a tent!”

“Um..okay. Sure. We’ll go sometime, honey.”

This Tuesday: Mom called. Asked if we’d like to go on a family camping trip this weekend to Buck’s Pocket – the state park that we went to every year from the time I was six years old to until I was twenty-four years old.

Without even thinking about it, I gave her my laundry list of obvious reasons that this was not practical or possible.

Chris is going to the football game…our tent is broken…it’s going to be cold…blah blah blah.

Wednesday, 10 PM: After pondering for a day and a half, including thinking more than a few times about Ali’s camping hopes and dreams, I began to actually consider going…

But that’s crazy talk. I can’t camp with two kids on my own.

Then I remembered that the campground in question now offered rentable camper trailers.

…could I get one of those campers?

…was I brave enough to go camping without Chris?

I had wanted something special to do while he was gone. This was certainly special…and a little reckless.

Thursday, 8 AM: I called the park. No answer – I left a message, figuring it would be a few hours before they returned the call. It is a campground, after all. So I hopped into the shower.

Thursday, 8:01 AM: My phone rang. I jumped out and answered the call from the Park – they had one camper left. Before I realized what I was doing, I had reserved the camper and committed to go.

By myself.

Camping.

With two kids.

(Granted, there would be grandparents available with much help, but they would be spread over a total of five grandchildren, cooking, and their own camping concerns.)

Thursday, 8:05 AM: I got back in the shower, a bit shocked at myself. I now had twenty-six hours to completely plan for, pack for, and shop for camping. And camping is not exactly low maintenance. Thus began a day of manic preparations.

Friday, 11:00 AM: I left the house, an hour later than I had planned, but earlier than any of the other family. I might have patted myself on the back a few too many times for this preparation feat.

Friday, 1:00-3:00 PM: After arriving at the campground, I had two hours that made me doubt my sanity and choice in weekend plans, including a refusing-to-nap baby, 3o minutes of blacking out camper windows with garbage bags and painter’s tape to try to encourage napping (who knew campers had so many windows??), then finding out that I picked the wrong camper and having to deblack the windows, move campers, and reblack new camper’s windows.

But finally, after all was settled and a nap (albeit tiny) was had, I breathed my first breath of camping air and remembered why I loved this place.

I walked down to the rock pit – a dry creek bed that my brother JC and I spent many adventure-filled camping trips – and found him and Ali, having already scaled one of the steep rock cliffs:

It’s a bizarrely awesome feeling to see your kid reliving your childhood.

JC and I took our two oldest kids around to some of our favorite rock hideouts.

Not surprisingly, our children mimicked our own tendencies: Eli climbing recklessly and without waiting to make sure someone could catch him, and Ali wanting a hand to hold for every step.

I don’t know how she knew camping would be so much fun, but she was right. She was in heaven, having everything a girl could ever want…

Hammocks,

Cousins,

Playgrounds (with the same playground equipment that we played on 20 years ago),

And a wonderland of rocks both big and small.

Noah, too, had fun, despite some cousin jealousy issues,

And follicular issues.

He spent most of his trip watching the fire in sheer disbelief,

and lazily stuffing his face.

Having cousins around was splendid. Eli made sure he stayed ahead of everyone else,

Andi helped Noah in the task of making sure that the Grandparents felt needed,

And Tessa made me feel better about my Camping Hair.

(And gave me a whole new appreciation for all of the love that Lindsay puts into her hair to make it usually look like this…)

It was decided that Ali would have her camping wishes come true by sleeping in the tent with Gramamma and Pop, and Noah and I would sleep in the cozy, warm camper.

However, all of the tent-dwellers stayed nice and toasty, and I froze my ever-livin’-butt off in the camper.

(Fortunately, I had a space heater to point at Noah’s bed, so quite literally everyone in the entire campground was comfortable – except for me.)

But I survived.

Right as we were getting ready to leave, after all of us had been 30+ hours without a shower and reeked of camping in both sight and smell, my Mom decided it was time for a family photo.

(CAUTION: DO NOT SNIFF PHOTO.)

Saturday, 4:30 PM: I arrived home with the kids, unpacked the car AND all of our bags while Ali fed herself and Noah (benefit #557 of having kids four years apart). After that, I bathed both kids and got them in bed, and then had a moment, at 6:51 PM, of actually cheering, out loud, in absolute and unashamed self-honor.

I DID IT.

I CAMPED WITH TWO KIDS. BY MYSELF.

(Not technically by myself, but I aim low.)

I. AM. SUPERMOM.

Bathing Practices As Indicated in Children: A Scientific Study.

October 20, 2011November 3, 2013 Rachel Callahan "Deep" Thoughts by Rachel, Actually Possibly Informational, Anal Retentivity to a Fault, I'm a Blog Geek, Kids: The Experience., Newsflash, Pop Post

You asked for it, so I’m here to deliver.

I collected and analyzed the data that you so generously provided (via this post and on Facebook) regarding the frequency of the bathing of your children.

In particular, I collected, where given:

Number of children per family,
Number of baths per week,
And, since so many of you had differing schedules for your different aged children, I collected the individual ages of children and corresponding baths per week, where provided.

My assumptions:

That none of you are in The Liar category – probably not a true assumption, but if you were going to go to the trouble to comment, I can only suppose that you were honest about your shame (or lack thereof).
For those of you that did not provide your children’s ages but I know about how old your kids are, I estimated.

My sample size:

82 Families.
171 Children.

With those scientific parameters in place, I present to you my findings.

First, the simple percentage breakdown of families and their bathing choices.

During the data collection, I noticed a trend in the families that actually do bathe their children every night: many had no idea that families existed that did not do so. To those seven-bath-a-week families, this graph should be stunning.

You are accompanied by only 17% of the population.

But you have clean sheets, so take heart in that.

And for those of us who fall into one of The Ashamed categories, I plotted the above information into the categories and sub-categories previously established. This graph should be all that you need to know:

I was curious as to what other trends could be discovered in bathing practices. The first avenue I wanted to explore was whether the number of children in a given family had an affect on bathing practices.

I have a feeling that my fellow two-kid families are about ready to kick me out of the club.

(Apparently I was simply meant to have three kids.)

I also wanted to see how bathing practices changed across children’s ages. As there should be, there seems to be a correlation – the older the kid, the more baths they received.

Whether this correlation is due to ripening tween body odors or the fact that the child can bathe themselves and, therefore, is less hassle for the parents is unknown.

And finally, I wanted to see a visual of all of the responses. I couldn’t figure out how to get my histogram to look how I wanted it to in Excel, so I went old school.

Plus, I live for any excuse to use graph paper.

So here are all of your children, plotted by age and number of baths.

Again, notice the clearly more populous lower bathing region.

This data makes me feel so happy and validated on the inside that I feel like singing a heartfelt chorus from “You Are Not Alone” right now.

…and probably makes you seven-time-a-weekers ready to yank your kids out of school, make them wear gloves, and smack a Flu Mask on ‘em.

The conclusions of my report are as follows:

1. The Shame Should End. Immediately.

2. Those of you who actually do bathe in the upper numbers should feel freed. Celebrate your extraordinary cleanliness tonight by skipping baths! Perhaps even after making Mud Angels in the yard and eating cotton-candy-covered-caramel-apples?