Dreaming in Norwegian

Last night I went in to feel Theo's forehead after he had fallen asleep. I was hoping hoping hoping to find it cool so I could justify sending him off to the last day of daycamp. Luckily I found him resting peacefully and cool as can be. I readjusted his covers and started tiptoeing away. Behind me I could hear him stirring. I froze, hoping he would roll over and get back to sleep. He rolled over, right into the wall, grunted, let out a sharp call of "Uff-da!" and then dropped back into his dreams. Now I do not think we use that phrase around the house with any kind of frequency so it kills me that in his unconscious slumbery state he let loose with a little Norge swearing.

Lose a little, gain a little

Theo and Eli are saying goodbye to summer with one last week out at daycamp. I have to say it was a brilliant move on my part to sign them up. The tension of the upcoming change in our schedule has them both a bit on edge, whether they realize it or not, so they are tempted to bug each other a bit more regularly than usual. Camp keeps them occupied and seperated, two things I would have had trouble doing this week as I gear back up for the onslaught of new students at school. They both love camp, although they go about showing this in different ways. Eli gets off the bus and on the way home thoughtfully shares with me the highlights of his day. Theo kind of jumps off the bus, eyes wide, clothes fantastically dirty, and his back pack much lighter than when he left in the morning. He is having so much fun he simply does not have time to keep track of his stuff. In one day he managed to lose his hat, raincoat, shorts, underwear, and swimshirt. Luckily he had a swimsuit to wear home. Sheesh. But it doesn't bother him a bit. Eli, on the other hand, checks and rechecks that backpack before heading out to the bus.

At daycamp they spend all day outside, in the middle of a field of plants that all send allergens straight to Theo's respitory system. I like to think of it is that he loses a little, gains a little- loses much clothing, comes home with many allergens working magic in his body. His eyes get red, his nose drives him wild with itching, he sneezes, and gets oh so wheezy. This week he managed to get hit so badly that he had to take a day off to recuperate and shake a fever. This was torture for him. He was sitting in the hallway shaky with fever when he heard me say that he would not be going that day. Immediately he struggled to his feet and said, "Look Mom! I can stand up! I can walk....I can....do....a....jumping....ja" and then, plop, back to a seated position, defeat written across his face. Poor guy. Luckily, one day of rest and relaxation got him to a place where he could rejoin the last day of fun today. Just in time to scatter his belongings to the wind one last time.

Winding down

The end of summer is within spitting distance. I think I could hit it with a watermelon seed if I tried. I have to say that the summer of 2009 has been an all around delight. I loved the slightly cooler weather, the boys got along splendily (except for when they didn't- but that was limited), and we managed to take some fabulous outings with fantastic people. We just got back from a quick tool around southeastern Minnesota. It is lovely down there- the farm fields were bursting with the dark green of mature crops while the grasses were starting to get coppery in the sun. The Amish were clopping down the shoulder of the highway in their buggies and the sun came out everytime we felt we needed to warm our bones a bit. Before we left I was stressing a bit about getting our camping gear all packed it up, but watching the boys delight in zipping into their sleeping bags, or toasting a marshmellow to Sage-level perfection, or puzzling with their pals Siena and Paloma over the destination of a geocache, made the really quite minor pack up more than worth it.

Dunord in pictures

Clockwise from top left: Haakon and Lars munching, Ye Olde Barrel Sauna, the jigging circle, relaxing after the canoe derby, my fabulous bow, the entire crew in front of Canada Jay, Theo in his happy place, Eli amongst the blueberries, and Wally pumping us up for our annual campfire perfomance as the St. Croix Singers.

HUDDLE!

I have wondered ever since we drove away from Camp DuNord if the Irish Jig Huddle tradition would work outside of the magical sphere that is family camp. Would our four families gather some night for a reunion dinner and adhere to the command to huddle and jig if someone called it out? Right in public? And would it work? There was something about the darkness and the mood and the space that made our huddling raucous and undeniable out at camp last week- would it work here in the cities? Would we be as enthusiastic? Because a huddling jig is nothing without full on enthusiasm.
Well, this is what I know. I was at the neighborhood pool the other day with my boys when I noticed Theo looking shy and a bit nervous- I followed his gaze and saw that he had spied Kira- a DuNordian pal. I think he was going to play it cool, but then Kira spotted him. I was watching from the sidelines and was pleased as punch to see Kira run up to Theo in the middle of the kiddie pool, grab his shoulders and start doodle-de-dooing at the top of her lungs. Theo looked surprised for only a second, then he threw back his head and belted out the tune with her, both of them highstepping it and kicking up water. They finished with a fist pumping 'Hey!' and then instantly turned to go grab Eli. He, being a bit older and trying for an attitude of maturity every now and then these days, remained aloof for the first measure. But then I saw "What the hell" pass over his expression and he jumped right in. I giggled away watching the three of them being taken over by joy. Later, Kira bumped into me on the diving pool deck. Upon recognition she instantly grabbed me and started dancing. I joined in, wholeheartedly. Without our whole group to back us up, the tune was a bit foreshortened and not as loud, but every bit as joyful.

Women in their forties

I hit forty back in January and I thought I was taking it in stride. In fact I barely thought about it at all. But then in early July I did a triathlon and when I got to the body marking station they asked me my age. I had to think about it and came to the conclusion that I was indeed 40. I told them the truth and they etched it in permanent marker on my calf. 40. There it sat. I have to admit that several times during the race I looked back there to see it. Shocked me each time. But the race ended (I like to think I finished with dignity. I had hoped that I would hear some astounded gasps as I whisked past people and they saw my age and then spontaneously yelled out 'She's 40????' in a tone of disbelief, but that never happened- the only gasps were from my own ragged breathing.) I washed the number off my leg and then forgot about it again. Until my physical. As I sat in the flimsy paper gown on her table, my doctor kept tossing out the phrase, "Well, women in their forties....." I let her say it a few times, but then I realized she thought she was referring to me and I had to put a stop to it. I made her rephrase it to "Woman in her forty." I mean, clearly, I am not in my forties for at least 5 more months. She was a sport and humored me. But 'woman in her forty-one' is not going to cut it, I can see that already.

Traditions

We just got back from year seven at family camp. Year seven. I can hardly believe it. Each year that we have made the annual trip to a little 'cabin tent' in the woods it becomes a little more fun, but also more complicated. You see, my kids love tradition. So if we did something the first year and they liked it, we have to do it the second year. And then new things get tried and make the 'can't miss it' list. I thought that this year might be different, because I was sure we had maxed out the options the year before. The kids love to partake in the official camp offerings like nature notes, polar bear swim, counselor hunt, but I think they love even more the little things that we think up as a group- like the overly dramatic bus where we make that shuttle ride into a roller coaster complete with hands in the air and full on screaming. And the time trials that occur after bridging each other off the bus- we wait at the top of a steep descent and chant out each group member's name as they sprint full on down. This year that briefly became the time trails circle of death when Jon took his turn while waving an axe over his head. Don't try that at home.

One great tradition is age groups where the kids go off with counselors for two hours and the adults get free time. And of course, we have our own traditions during that time. A few days during the week we head to the woods for trail runs. And as tradition demands, each run is punctuated by a few stops to graze, butts up, in the blueberry patches. Another adult tradition is to drop the kids, run to the canoes and paddle as quickly as possible to a cliff jump locale. This one has to be fast because it is a 45 minute paddle each way, and I, for one, need some time on the top of the said cliff to talk myself up to the plunge. Well, this year, that tradition was altered a bit. (For the record, Cousin Shannon tried to alter this one two years ago when she opted to RUN down the cliff face instead of take off in a leap. No one has followed her down this path however). This year, we dropped the kids, made a beeline for the canoes, jumped into 3 of them and headed out across the bay. But the further we paddled out, the stronger the wind became. It was blowing us into the channel but we all knew that we would be fighting mighty headwinds on the way home, so we had a quick conference and decided to break with tradition and turn back without jumping. And then the new tradition was born. Or atleast I hope it becomes one, because it caused me to laugh quite hard. As we were sitting there chatting, all three canoes nestled next to each other, someone decided to do the old jettison the other canoe backwards to get a head start trick. This started the bumber car/rally/derby that was our trip back to the beach. All canoes went pellmell forward, racing, and if someone caught someone else they were grabbed and jettisoned, or t-boned, to the delight of everyone. Yes, we were all adults, but certainly not acting like them. And it was hilarious. I can't wait until next year's canoe derby.

On the last night we happened upon another new tradition and this might be the one that puts us over the top next year. After the last campfire we were standing around waiting for the shuttle. The adults were chatting peacefully while the kids were playing a new game they had learned called Ninja. It was getting unruly so I called out a huddle and instantly the 16 of us who were there were huddled up, arms around each other, looking expactantly for the next order. I had nothing to offer....and then Kira stepped into the middle of the circle and someone told her to get back to the huddle, this was not an Irish jigging circle (whatever that might be...). Spontaneously someone broke into highspirited doodle-dooing of an irish jig like song and instantly it was taken up by every other member of the group, with high stepping dancing popping out left and right. It ended with a huge "HEY!" and then broke up, kids back to Ninja, adults to chatting. After a few moments, someone couldn't resist and called out HUDDLE! Everyone instantly dropped what they were doing (some kids mid-ninja chop) circled up, and after a brief attempt at a serious conversation, the jig escaped out of us once again. Here's what I love- this was a group with kids aged 4 to 14 and every last one of them was enthusiastically doodling and jigging with abandon. And the adults- we were fully participatory as well. The shuttle pulled up, we giggled our way on, and as we were waiting for the last two members of our group to join us a huddle was called and we rocked that bus with a quick tempoed jig that had the bus driver hooting and clapping along. Just then Wally and Kara, the last members of our group, climbed on, looked around bewildered, and then joined right in. When it finished Wally asked, "When did this happen?" Seconds ago. But it will last forever, I hope. But of course also fear. How will we be able to do anything next year if anytime someone remembers to call out HUDDLE! we all drop everything and jig? But then again, why do anything besides jig?