Little laughs

As we were trying to get the kids into bed tonight we realized that we had failed to pick up a refill of one of the FIVE drugs Theo is currently taking for his asthma (see below). I decided that even though I did not feel like walking down to Walgreens right then, I felt even less enthusiastic about dragging the freshly laundered sheets up from the basement and making the beds. So I headed out down Brimhall with a touch of a bad attitude. But then I got to the old Walgreens pharmacy counter and said that I was there to pick up a prescription for Theo Sage-Martinson. The pharmicist could not see the hyphen in the name when I said it aloud (quite surprisingly, that happens often), so looked at me blankly and asked, "And which one of those would happen to be his last name?" I told him it was two of them, Sage and Martinson. He grabbed the drugs and as he was scanning them said, "You know, that's a pretty cool name, it means the wise son of Martin." I said, "I know, good thing too, because the other sons of Martin are complete dumbshits." And he guffawed. Which made me smile. Now you out there who might count yourselves among the other Sons of Martin, I apologize. I didn't mean it. The guy just set me up and the comment slipped out, surprising both of us.

Sucks to your as-mar

Maybe you haven't read Lord of the Flies- but I was forced to read it in high school and the line "Sucks to your asmar" has been passing through my mind often lately. As in SUCKS to Theo's asthma. The kid is currently on 5 drugs. 5. Ok, one of them is for pink eye, but the other four are attempting to join forces and beat his lungs into shape so that he can get more oxygen in and less coughing out, and therefore I can get more sleep. Which is the bottom line. Or maybe the bottom line is that Jon and I kind of suck at being the parent of a kid who has pulmonary issues.

Earlier this spring, after about 4 years of trying to treat Theo's asthma with a nebulizer, we watched old brother Pete swirl up a batch of drugs for his son, Max, who has a propensity for croup and ends up with the little fishy mask on with some regularity. We watched the familiar motions of opening the vials and pouring them in the contraption, and then Pete put this little stopper thingy on the end. Stopper thingy? We never use that....but we looked through our neb case and sure enough, we had one of those. So the next time we had to fire up machine for Theo we put on the stopper thingy, and boy oh boy did that elongate the nebulization process. Hmmm.

And then this week, Theo would seem great during the day but go to bed and the wheezing, the coughing, would set in with a vengeance. So Jon and I did a little thinking.....what could it be about his bedtime routine that could trigger this? Could it be the moldy book (soaked it in the river last weekend...oops...big library fine) that we should probably toss but are at the climax so can't stop reading to him? Or perhaps it was a mistake to wash all of his bedding last week and hang them on the deck to dry on a day that was great for line drying due to the 30 mph winds. Could those winds have been carrying all the pollen in the tri-county area? Seems so. Tonight we paid up our fines to the library and got ourselves a second, fresh, copy of the book- the moldy one is now ours to keep, but me thinks we should give it the old heave ho- and we washed all the bedding and dried it in the drier. And we used the stopper thingy on the neb. We're hoping that we are turning over a new leaf here and that the boy will rebound. Sometimes I wonder how I ever passed that parenting license test that they give you.

Looking forward

The boys have been talking a lot about our upcoming pilgrimage to Camp DuNord. My favorite comment so far came from Theo yesterday musing about the 5 hour carride up to Burntside Lake. "Mom, what I like best about the carride is two things. One is getting out at Ely and eating at that one restaurant and the other is when we pull up down by the tents and we start unloading all of our stuff and we get to run around from tent to tent and remember everything from last year. But Mom, my most favorite thing is that moment when we are outside our house before we even leave and you guys are packing up the car and then we're ready to go and you get in the car and you shut the door. That is my most favorite moment ever. When you shut the door and we're finally ready to go!" I just love that something about his little radar out into the world has identified that moment as it- the big moment when you are finally ready and actually poised to move out, but you haven't gone anywhere yet and everything, every possibility, is still out there in front of you. Just waiting.

Localvor-acious

I am a locovore wannabe. I really really love the idea of only eating food that is grown locally. But the reality is that we are in Minnesota and I would weep throughout the winter, dreaming of fruit. I know that there are canning techniques I could learn, but I guess the bottom line is that I want to be a locovore and I want it to be easy. Which is not going to happen. But summer is upon us and today I had the most delicious salad with the tastiest greens and strawberries- all from our garden. I did have to wrestle the berries practically out of the beaks of a few grackles which have been picking us clean, but I did come away with a handful. And tonight when we pulled into the garage we could see the beacon-like glow of the first red raspberries. Of course, that deep red color is a beacon for me as well as for the entire local society of vermin and fowl, but I have already managed to pop a handful of ripe ones in my mouth, still warm from the sun. And right now Jon is downstairs washing and storing box #2 from the CSA we decided to join for the season. I'm proud to report that we managed to eat all of box 1 the first week AND we could identify everything that was in it. Today I had to take a guess on one of the greens- I think it was the beginning of the soon to be dreaded Swiss Chard- but this first batch looks delicious. That lunchtime salad still makes me smile- it was just so dang lively. Here's to eating local! In the summer. When it's convenient. So I'm a lackluster locovore- but tonight I am a happy one.

The Namekagon

Becky, the mom of Eli's good school pal, and I are planning to take my boys and her youngest out on the old Namekagon for a 3 night canoe trip later this summer. So I dug out our river map that I am sure is atleast 15 years old. The last time I have spent time up on the Nam must have been in the early 90's- almost 20 years ago. But looking at the names of the campsites- Whispering Pines, Norway Point, Snake River Landing, Little Yellow Banks, Sandrock Cliffs- it all comes back. I suddenly had a very vivid sensory-filled recollection of nudging a canoe up on a gravelly landing and then unbending my back and stretching into a standing position....squish squashing in my wet shoes-sand and grit invariably caught around my toes-up to the campsite to check it out. I remember the feel of crispy skin that was cooked in an aluminum canoe all day everyday on 6-9 day trips- one trip after the other all summer long. The word sunscreen had not yet been coined. It was SunTAN lotion, or even, as Amy calls it, Tanning Butter. I remember the joy of flopping out of that tin cooker and into the refreshing chilly depths of the river, and then climbing back in as we approached rapids. I remember the days it rained all day and you paddled along without rain gear because everything was already wet anyway, then it would rain all night- and the joy of finally finally getting sun at a time when you could lay out your sleeping bag, your towel, your shoes, your tent. I remember sitting on my ammo box (our inefficient, super heavy 'dry boxes') after dinner, poking at the fire with a stick while someone stirfried the brownies. I remember the brownies!! And the fruit cocktail, the spam, the salami, the alpine spaghetti, the cheese. The gloopy, sweaty, unrefrigerated cheese. I remember trying to de-greasify our hair by washing it with sand. Sand. But we thought it worked, and so it did. I remember the swimming holes and the biffies and the wobbly old picnic tables- the campsites that caught evening breezes if you positioned your tent just right, and the ones that roasted you alive in evening sun. I just wish I could remember which campsite was which....it all blends together now. But looking at that map made me realize that it doesn't go away- two decades have passed, but just reading those names made me feel it, smell it, hear it, live it, once again.

haircuts

As Jon was firing up the razor in the backyard last night I was lying back on the deck, enjoying a breather after a great summer day, but anticipating some complaining from the kids for being conned into visiting "Jon's strip down to your skivvies hair salon". Theo was first, and to my surprise stepped up to the stool and said, "Take it all off Dad! I want it short. I mean short!!" So Jon did. The kid is not bald, but looks it from 20 paces. After the cut he sidled over to me, shirtless and rubbing his fuzzy head. He looked down at me lying there on the deck and said, "Mom, I'm part fat guy (rubbing his pasta-full tummy), part buff dude (patting his 'muscles'), and part nerd (pointing to his nearly hairless head)." Then he leaned down real close and stage whispered, "And maybe a little bit handsome??" Definitely.
Pictures to follow soon!

Confidence

Theo has attempted climbing walls in the past, but has never found great success. This past weekend out at Camp St. Croix the stars aligned. He had a fabulous 'belayer' who was shouting out encouragement, he was feeling confident and secure because he is starting to own Camp St. Croix, and, most importantly, his cousin was on the rope next to him and heading for the bell at the top.
Theo on his way back down after ringing the bell!