reconnection and letting go

I spent my weekends as a tween and teen at my parent's camp in Slidell, LA. Camps in south LA are houses built on pilings over water. They're used for fishing, hunting and any other outdoor recreation, like swimming and crawfish boils. As a child, the camp was cool with it's wharfs that were perfect for casting nets to catch small shrimp and fish for bait. My favorite spot was the hole in the back room that my Paw Paw had cut straight through the floor. I could hang a light in the opening and fish late into the night. 

As a teen, just the "c" sound would initiate an eye roll followed by the sigh/moan that is expected to be a response. The camp meant I wasn't going to hang with my friends doing "normal" activities. The camp meant I was trapped into a weekend with just my family. No phone, no TV, but plenty of what I perceived as miserable moments.

I have become the walking adult cliche who says "those were the good times" and I was a fool to not have seen it then. 

I was reminded of the camp this weekend while the kids and I spent a few days with Michael at "the cottage". The cottage is similar to the camp. Small, bare essentials, no phone, no TV. But it's not over water. It sits on several acres with a pond, field filled with horses and is just down the street from the grandparents. It's a place of semi-disconnection with the world so we can reconnect with one another.

While we have moments like the one below at home, it's nice to cram my brood into a smaller dwelling so they're literally on top of one another. It builds patience, tolerance, acceptance and more effective conflict resolution.

We reconnected this weekend, all 10 of us (our circus and the 3 grandparents), over fresh seafood caught by Michael. We shared stories, shared laughs, shared tears.

The tears came from the difficult decision to have our 9 year-old blue heeler put to sleep. Her aging body, along with rapid sight loss, had become problematic to her. Her behavior was quickly turning unsafe and included snapping, which had left visible marks on our skin. As my mom put it, "She had a hard time tolerating other children. Now, she can't tolerate her own."

We brought Jewel home as a small bundle of nippy teeth, true to her heeler genes, just after arriving on Kodiak for our second tour in 2002. Emma named her Jewel for our favorite spot on base, Jewel Beach. 

She wasn't a stellar obedience class star. In fact, the trainer had recommended we have her put down. Her biting and nipping would surely hurt someone, she reasoned, but we believed we could change this canine. I can't say we succeeded after nine years, but I can say she eventually slowed down. 

Jewel was an energetic fur bundle who once found her way home through a blizzard and 6 days of navigation from Bell's Flats to our military home on base in Kodiak. She enjoyed riding the ATVs, hanging her head out of the truck, shredding Barbie hair, shredding paper and sleeping on her back. She couldn't stand camp fires or loud noises or being left alone outside. She was neurotic with a capital "N" and she was ours. 

May you have many couches to sleep on (without being told to get off) and an endless supply of balls to chase, Jewel. We will miss you, old girl.

Good memories and great grandparents

Where there's whistling, you will find Pop. 

I asked Jessi to describe Pop:

Fun, kind, happy and loving. My favorite thing about Pop is that he spends all of his time with cars that I like.

Pop loves kids, but anyone who knows us well understands what level of energy my kids require. Sometimes that can be scary for me when it comes to my dad b/c they can exhaust even me at times, and I'm well-versed in all things CIRCUS VORHOLT. What kind of damage will they leave on him? Can he handle their path of destruction?

What I've learned is that while I'll always worry, b/c that's what mothers do, Pop is an adult and can make decisions on his own. His decision this morning was to take the three little ones to the park. They were tickled pink! I didn't ask how many directions they ran in when he released them from his jeep, but when I arrived it was clear he had it all under control. 

Mimi didn't have as much luck when she took Matt with her to the grocery after church yesterday. Something about letting him push the buggy by himself (definitely listed under Circus Rules #45 of what NOT to do) and a display of tomatoes. She braved the errand with our most active child, so it's considered a success.

Grammy (Michael's mom) has also braved the world with the tribe with success. What child doesn't want to hang out with their grandparent and be spoiled? 

We're well aware that our grandchild offering to our parents isn't typical. We know keeping them requires planning, effort and sometimes more energy than you'd care to use, so to have little trips to the store or the park is huge. Those moments make memories. And the good memories help ease the bad ones. Good memories are priceless, just like brave grandparents.

truth time with CI survival

Truth time: we have been known to remove Matt's CIs when we hear the ice cream truck coming......


Cruel parenting or simple sanity survival? 

This afternoon, however, he heard the truck. 


From the backyard. 


Ah, the wonders of technology.


Luckily, the click of the camera shutter was heard and his attention shifted from said truck to paparazzi mom and he came through the experience without one whimper of protest. 


For photogs: I severely increased my ISO, knowing I had no time to change to lenses, which added grain.

parental patience = child's patience

Well, I'd like to think that one must equal the other. Last night, the little kids (we group Jessi, Matt and Nick into this category) had to sit through 2 hours of high school concert music. Overall, they were good, but there was lots of movement. Movement from Nick in protest of having to sit for so long. Movement from Matt who would sign wildly at me and Emma. And an occasional shift of the body from Jessi who just wanted to fall asleep and be left alone. During this semi-torturous event, I found myself deep breathing quite a few times as I practiced patience with the situation.

Fast forward to today when Matt comes home from school. Some may call it OCD, but he NEEDS to perform a task as soon as he crosses the threshold: ride his bike in the "driverwary", swim, play video games with Allen, and the newest...... vacuum with the new cordless machine that has a slight Star Wars look to it.

Nick had first dibs on the cleaner and quickly ran the battery down. Matt was distraught that I had placed it on the charger and threw himself on the floor, I suspect to wait for the charging to be complete. Watching this take place made me happy. OK, not all of the associated screams and whines, but the fact that Matt had a mission and he would lay on the floor until the vacuum is finished. 

Some say kids are packaged similar to their parents. I hope Matt's patience to wait for the charging vacuum is a testament to my waiting with patience at last night's concert.

happy mom's day ~ open letter to my mom

Dear Mom,

I want to thank you for the way you've raised me and for the way you allow me to continue on my own path. Having children gives me plenty of pause, thinking all you were challenged with while raising me. At times, I'm amazed we're doing as well as we are as our mother-daughter team.

I'm glad we had an afternoon together this past week. There are shared moments free of husbands and children that are essential to our relationship and New Orleans couldn't provide a better playground in which to accomplish our memories. Even our little field trip through the shady Lower Ninth Ward proved to be educating and fun. OK, with the exception of the guy who was probably trying to sell us drugs......

What you may, or may not, have realized is that you were a vital player in the transition Michael and I were going through that day. Without having you to spend time with while waiting for my flight home, I may have let the bubbles of sadness take over and consume my thoughts. Sharing a simple cafe au lait while walking the mall helped keep those bubbles flat and deep inside. And certainly the missed airport exit that gave us a great tour of the swamp kept the mood lively.

Thank you, mom, for being there for me. I look forward to many more trips and tours and time with you!

I love you, Mom!

Love, Carey


The following images are from carey anne photography of the Make It Right Rebuilding made famous by Brad Pitt's involvement.