The Right Thing To Do

Last Friday afternoon, I was faced with a bit of a dilemma:  Stay home in our warm, cozy house with our three children after school, maybe read a few books with them, leisurely prepare the French Dip sandwiches from the roast that had been deliciously scenting our house while cooking in the crock pot all day; or, go to the apple orchard in the 40-degree, windy weather with three kids who had been sick for the better part of a month.

I chose the orchard, not just because I hate myself, but also because Adelaide had received free passes to the orchard over the summer, and we'd been meaning to go all autumn, but, well, there's always been at least one of us who's been ill- only then I found out the farmyard/ joy-inducing part of the orchard was closing Sunday, knew we weren't going to have time to go Saturday or Sunday, and that Friday after school was it, our only window to go.

It was even worse because I knew Adelaide wouldn't complain if we didn't end up going.  I had warned her we probably wouldn't be able to make it, and she did her sad, put-up-a-brave-front face that's about a million times more guilt-inducing than any whining or tantrums, and maybe you're good with playing Miss Minchin to Adelaide's Sara Crewe, but I'm not quite that heartless.  Except first thing in the morning.  And right around 5 o'clock nearly every single day.  And really anytime I've waited too long to eat.

So we went.

And it turned out great.

This orchard/pumpkin patch/kid-topia is a large operation, and most of the other times we've gone before it's been anywhere from busy to packed, but this time, there was only one other family there with two tiny kids who couldn't have bothered us if they'd tried.  Apparently the time to go is on a Friday Halloween late afternoon when it's cold and windy and yes, you have to layer and bundle up, and yes, you're all still recovering from the viral nastiness and perhaps standing out in a bitter wind isn't the best idea ever, as evidenced from Caedmon's worsening cough as it got colder, to the point where he coughed 'til he vomited, whatever, he's done that almost every other night for the past week and it was just a tiny bit in the grass.  There's wasn't even anyone else around to gross out/ judge me for not tucking my wee bairns into their beds and spoon-feeding them clear broth.  

And really, they all had such a fun time.

Another bonus to no one else around:  Patently ignoring the sign beside the corn pool that read:  DO NOT BURY PEOPLE.  (Relax, Derek.  She asked to be buried, and I made them stop when they got close to her chest lest the weight of the corn crush her organs.  BECAUSE I AM A GOOD MOTHER WHO THINKS OF THINGS LIKE PUREED CHILD ORGANS.)

Click to embiggen and see the sweetness that is these two together.  You have no idea how much they adore each other when they're not irritating one another to death.

My other justification for taking the kids out to the orchard was exercise, and I made sure to tell them so at least every four minutes.  This slide, for instance, was on a long and steep hill, so every time they made it to the bottom, they had to wriggle their way off the slide and begin the long-haul climb back up, over and over again, each like a tiny Sisyphus but with burlap instead of a crushing stone.  Every time they'd begin the trudge back up, bitter wind blowing in their reddening faces, I'd holler, "Isn't this good exercise, children?"  Obviously I couldn't help them; that would negate the effects of the exercise on our Halloween candy-stuffed children.  (And by "candy-stuffed," I mean each child had been allowed to have all of two pieces each by that point, because I am a shameless dictator who sees nothing wrong with sternly saying, "You may have one piece," then eating as much as I want after they've gone to bed.  I am thisclose to making our children hail me as "Dear Leader.")  

I do believe I made the right choice, after all.

The Pumpkin Patch on the Frozen Tundra

As you may know, I've committed to post every day for two weeks.  This means I'll be posting more photos than usual; it's easier and way faster for me to just dump a bunch of photos on here than try to communicate actual stories and family events.

In other words, I'm lazy.

A couple weeks ago, my mom and her hubby traveled north to the frozen tundra that is Iowa to visit us.  (I'm kidding.  Kind of.  Not about my mom and Mark; I mean about Iowa- it's only freezing six, maybe seven months out of the year.)

(Okay, so actually I'm kidding again.  It's not frozen for that long; it's just a colder climate than what I grew up in.  That makes it, to my mind, a barren, icy landscape.  Plus the high is in the 40's right now, and today is one of those days where I woke up with a chill and haven't been able to shake it.  Do you ever have days like that?)

(I've decided to write the rest of this post in parentheses.)  

Where was I?

Right.  My mom.  Mark.  Frozen tundra.

During this visit, Derek and Mark went golfing while Mom, the kiddos, and I didn't go golfing.  We went to the pumpkin patch, instead.

What's that?  You want to see some photos of our little excursion?

I'm so glad you asked!

Caedmon and Grandma, lounging in the corn pool.  Almost as relaxing as a real pool, except you have to wear four layers of clothing and small, hard kernels of corn manage to wedge themselves into some highly uncomfortable places.

Atticus jumping.

Grandma and Adelaide jumping.

When my sisters and I were kids, my mom always said we had to take swimming lessons until we were strong enough in the water to be able to rescue her from the deep end of the pool.  She has apparently continued this tradition with her grandchildren.  It looks like a lot more fun than my childhood attempted rescue efforts.  In my defense, it took me awhile to learn that people don't like to be rescued by their necks.

Caedmon, delighted to find his own foot.

With her tongue sticking out and braids flying, this photo reminds me of a Norman Rockwell painting.  It would be even better if her mother were a decent photographer and could take a photo without cutting everyone's heads off.

Adelaide going down the giant burlap sack slide.

Right to left, that's Atticus, Grandma, and our new adopted son on the hayrack ride.  We're still tossing around names for the little fella, but we've narrowed it down to "Bubba" and "Little John."  

Atticus and Caedmon in the fake, miniature reproduction outhouse.  I'm not sure who it was that said, "You know what this pumpkin patch needs?  An outhouse.  But let's make sure it's just a shell with no actual 'facilities,' and that it's so tiny two small children can barely squeeze in together.  Kids will love it."

And you know what?  My kids did.

We also got some samples of fudge from the store, and I'm still thinking about the Dark Chocolate Salted Caramel fudge that I tried.  It was divine, and I don't normally care for fudge.  I didn't get a picture of any of that.  You're crushed, I know.

Console yourself with the thought of another post tomorrow about our new/old dresser.  (How are you ever going to sleep tonight!?)

Farewell, Fall

Cooler temperatures have recently blown into central Iowa.  This morning when Adelaide left for school it was 29 degrees out, which I know will feel downright tropical come January, but for now feels pretty chilly.

These more winter-like conditions, plus the fact that we only have two more days in November make me feel like Autumn is over.  How about a photo recap?


We continued to go for lots of walks throughout most of the Fall.

Atticus likes to pull the wagon, which makes me look like a really lazy mom straggling behind the wagon, forcing her children to do all the work.  I'm okay with that.

We continued to water our mums, hardy pansies, and tulip and hyacinth bulbs.

Caedmon was really helpful.

We went to the apple orchard/ pumpkin patch.  We got zero apples and zero pumpkins.

But we did play in the corn pool!  After all, this is Iowa.

What's that?  You've never been in a corn pool?  It's basically a giant pool... of corn.

Aren't you glad I'm here to explain these things to you?

Atticus showed Mark how to make it rain corn...

Then Mark showed Atticus how to make it pour.

Mark and Atticus also sped down the giant slide.

It really is huge, and somehow the burlap sacks you slide down on make it very, very fast.

No, really.

Top...

...bottom.  Big.

We also jumped around on the big bouncing pad, saw a bunch of farm animals, and went on a hay rack ride that busy day at the orchard.  In the following weeks we kept finding corn in our clothing and coats.  When I washed the clothes the boys had worn that day, I opened the dryer and a cataract of corn came spilling out onto my feet.  I still find kernels at odd places around the house.

A few days after that trip we celebrated Halloween.

I feel like my kids are at a perfect age to go trick-or-treating:  They aren't old enough to start whining about going without Mom and Dad, and I can still basically make them wear whatever I want, like cute and fluffy chicken costumes that make our youngest boy look like a girl.

The beginning of October was unseasonably warm, and we took advantage of it by spending lots of time outside.

A month later it was no longer quite so warm, and while the kiddos still wanted to play outside, I retreated indoors.

Of course, fall brought with it football season.  It will continue through part of winter.  I will not exactly be devastated when it is over, although Derek has mellowed quite a bit, on the outside, at least.

I have this wild and crazy notion that our sweet, sweet Spudley might have something to do with that.

Here's hoping everyone had a magnificent Fall, a terrific Thanksgiving, and a better football season than we have.