Play Baby Play...

It wasn't all that long ago, just a few weeks perhaps, that we took Calvin to a nearby park with great expectations for his exuberance about the play structures, only to be disappointed when he couldn't see them for the woodchips.  On that trip we spent the majority of our time trying to convince him that woodchips, although very enticing, were not a readily digestible item.  We'd been reluctant since then to try again, but tonight we found ourselves yards away from another such play area while enjoying a potluck dinner with the First Presbyterian Deacons, so we decided to give it another try.  We're not sure what the difference was, although in our eagerness as parents we'll chalk it up to a sudden burst in brain power, but he was enthralled with the playground this time!  Aside from time spent eating dinner he could not be pried away from the play structure without fuss.  He would run to the swing and sign for up, then after a minute sign that he was all done and go climb up the structure to the tunnel.  Or he would run to the slide and make the sign for up, and, after sliding down (sometimes on his butt, sometimes on his tummy), he would sign to do it again.  He was insatiable, which meant that at the end of the evening he was exhausted, and that meant an early bed time and some extra adult time or us.  We might have to consider trying that activity more often now.

4-H

No, we're not talking about bingo, we're talking about animals - the farm kind:  cows, sheep, chickens, rabbits, etc.  It has been a stormy week here so when the clouds parted long enough for the sun to break through this evening we jumped at the opportunity and headed to the Chelsea Community Fair for dinner.  Calvin really loves animals (wonder why?) and got a real kick out of the rows and rows of bleating sheep and clucking chickens.  He found the enormous rooster that crowed right in his face to be the most amusing, while his parents were rather taken with the rabbit who was at least three times the size of Moose (that being our little dog).  It wasn't the animals, however, that had us truly incredulous, it was the price of the food.  Who wants to pay $30 for the privilege of eating a "meal" (a sausage, fries, and a drink for each adult) of run-of-the-mill carnival food?  Not I, not I!  Instead, we left the fair grounds and walked to the Chelsea Grill where we enjoyed fantastic burgers with fries and beer for only $23, and we did so while being waited on in a clean and air conditioned restaurant where we didn't have to worry about dust, bugs, or the smell of manure.  And at the end of our meal we raced home (within the speed limit, of course) just ahead of the next storm front that was coming through.

New Shoes

It may be mid August but you wouldn't know it by the weather.  Yesterday's high was in the upper 50s and it looked just like a Michigan fall had arrived a couple of weeks early so we did what all responsible parents do at this time of year - we took our kid shopping.  He may not be ready for "back to school" shopping just yet, but he has obviously outgrown all of his cool weather clothing from last year.  In fact, comparing Calvin this fall with Calvin last fall is a bit like comparing a German Shepherd to a Chihuahua.  So we fished out the one warm outfit in his drawer (thanks to his Aunt Patty and her kind family who saw fit to prepare him for the hockey season ahead of time) and hauled ourselves to the mall with all the other families of young children who needed a place to go on this wet, cold, dreary day.  We fought tooth and nail to get in the doors at JC Penneys, then waded through the mobs of families in the mall corridors, and finally found a wide opening right down the center which allowed us to make the final dash into the little tiny Stride Rite store, which was itself jam packed with parents and children of all ages.  Calvin had a great time playing in their little toy corner while we waited for some professional help (of the salesperson kind, that is), and he enjoyed the attention that was lavished on him as said professional measured his foot and then tried a couple of shoes on it.  And then, after one good look at the price tag on said shoes, we did the other thing that all responsible parents do at this time of year - we went and bought the shoes for half the cost at Marshall's.

Shhhh!

Our weekend was dedicated to drying out our basement and reorganizing and boxing our stuff while sorting out what was valuable and what was to be donated.  By the end of the weekend we found ourselves needing a break from life:  a break from the wall to wall, ceiling to floor boxes; a break from the constant drone of the 3 humidifiers and 8 industrial grade fans; a break from the lack of peace and order, and the knowledge that even with so much work behind us, a mountain was still ahead.  Tonight we decided to take a break and get out, and where better to go for a sense of restored order and calm than a library?  The rows and rows of neatly ordered books and the gentle quiet of the air did go a long way to calming our frayed nerves.  Jon picked out a book for himself and three for Calvin, who was far more interested in the magazine rack, and we did our best to cause only a minimal disturbance while we took our milestone recording photographs.  It was, after all, Calvin's first trip to the library.

A wet welcome

Before leaving on vacation we made sure to change the beds, vacuum, clean the kitchen, do the laundry... all the chores that we didn't want to have staring us in the face the day we returned from up north.  The plan, then, was to ease back into real life somewhat slowly, but that plan did not include stepping into a huge puddle of water at the foot of our basement stairs first thing in the morning the day after our return.  It didn't take long to realize that the water was not just at the bottom of the stairs but had puddled in several areas throughout the basement.  We moved things to dry spots and a few phone calls later we decided that sump pump failure was to blame and within the half hour the plumber was on his way.  Not long after, as we were breathing an unfortunately premature sigh of relief, we spoke on the phone with the water restoration specialists and watched a rather threatening bank of clouds coming in from the west.  As soon as the storm hit we knew we were in trouble.  The previously inert puddles in our basement were now advancing with determined and visible speed across the floor, aiming directly for all our possessions.  While Calvin took his morning nap we started hauling everything upstairs - boxing movies and books from bookshelves and putting them in the garage, then lugging each shelf up, all of the Christmas items, all of the outgrown baby clothes, the wrapping supplies, the stored toys and winter clothes, the childhood memories we'd never been able to part with, the computers, the office equipment, more shelves.  The plumber came and replaced the pump, Jon's mom came and occupied Calvin (both jobs being vital to the saving of our stuff) and we just kept running down the stairs and trudging back up, arms loaded with our personal items.  By mid afternoon the carpet in the office was soaked through, the floor throughout the basement under an inch of water, but all of our stuff was safely piled in the garage, around our bed, in the kitchen, and in the hallway.  Our basement may have been upstairs, but it was safe.

Things could definitely have been a lot worse.  The plumber said our pump was old and likely hadn't been working correctly for several weeks, but it had been such a dry summer that we hadn't noticed.  If the torrential rains that came down the night we returned home had hit just a day earlier we would have been out of luck.  If Jon hadn't gone to the basement to feed the cats first thing in the morning we might not have noticed the puddles before they advanced and took over the basement and we might not have rescued our beloved things.  Yes, our basement might be in our upstairs, the noise of industrial fans enveloping our whole house, and our muscles and minds aching with fatigue, but we can't help but be thankful for the way things turned out.