July (Part 1)

I'm back.

It wasn't something I planned, but it appears I took an unofficial, extended break from this blog over the entire summer. With two kids needing summertime fun, family visiting from Australia, friends popping up from L.A., road trips when we could squeeze them in (and not to mention work), things became quite hectic - but mostly in a good way. When school finished in June, I näively thought we'd have endless days ahead, with few plans, and the only schedule I'd be ruled by was my work roster. The Faery wanted to sign up to just about every day camp under the sun, but I'm glad she only did a couple.

So many spur-of-the moment outings and visits kept us more than occupied. I'm in no way opposed to days at home with the TV on for kiddo entertainment - it's something I more than rely on at times - but we surprisingly had very few days like that over summer. I suppose the knowledge of how short-lived summer is here put me into a "make hay while the sun shines" mentality. Summer in Seattle is amazing but it doesn't stick around for long, so I forced us to get out of the house every day. Lots of vitamin D hits for us, but it meant that for the first time ever, when school resumed this month I didn't feel ready, that we needed more veggie days at home just doing sweet nothing. I guess that's better than feeling as though we wasted summer, though.

Here in Seattle, people joke that summer doesn't officially begin until July 5th (the joke being that July 4th celebrations are often rainy). This July 4th threatened to prove them right, with grey skies and passing spots of rain. We took a gamble anyway, and hosted a barbecue at our place, with a bit of a pot luck dessert from friends. By sheer coincidence, it was mostly Aussie expat friends, with one Canadian and only one American - poor girl! It was a good excuse to make pavlova, and a friend got into the spirit by making a divine s'mores pie. Lucky for all of us, the walk to the waterfront fireworks that evening were a mile downhill so we managed to walk off some of our gluttony.

The following week, the Faery attended a day camp at one of the Western Washington Girl Scout campsites. It was in a beautiful 400+ acre setting, complete with log cabins and surrounded by cedar trees. Camp River Ranch is a forty-minute drive from home, but instead of me needing to drive the round trip twice a day, we were fortunate enough to have a camp bus that serviced a route with a drop-off point only five minutes away from home.

Once at camp, the Faery spent her time in a small group of other Brownies, and together they worked out their week's itinerary of craft, fairy house building (in the woods), mermaid-spotting from a boat in the lake, swimming, ice-cream making, and a tent sleepover on the Thursday night. Basically, the kind of week I dreamed about when I was that age. Movies like The (original) Parent Trap and 1985's Poison Ivy (Michael J Fox was my first love) fuelled my childhood dreams of an American style camp in the great outdoors, so there may have been a little vicarious living through the Faery. However, every day she emerged from the camp bus, face flushed and glowing. The heat wave that week was probably a factor too, but she had such a wonderful time that she kept asking to go back and do another week or two. I will be more than happy to send her back next summer.

On the last day of her camp, instead of having her take the bus home, we met her at the camp and then headed to a farm for a bed and breakfast farm stay. I'd managed to find a farm that had a platform tent with a queen sized bed inside, plus room for two single camping beds. Glamping!

The farm itself is an organic one, established by an older couple who had left the rat race of Microsoft behind them. There was an assortment of animals, and their farmhands invited the Faery and Miss Pie to accompany them on their rounds to feed the animals and collect eggs. The girls were in heaven because it was their first time on a proper farm.

It was ridiculously hot and humid, so we were stoked to find a bar and grill in the nearby town of Carnation, with a kid-friendly beer garden. Not only that, but the fence was lined with a misty spray sprinkler to cool us off. As the shadows got longer, we realised we'd better head back to the farm before it got too dark.

J was in heaven once he'd got a campfire going near our tent. As luck would have it, there was a full moon rising over the Cascade mountains, which we we had a clear view of from the farm. We roasted marshmallows with the girls and then once they were asleep, we sat by the fire for far too many hours, and drank far too much wine (me) and beer (him). Aside from the dozens of mosquito bites to my thighs after the briefest of nature-calling-grass-squats, it was as good as any date night. Full moon, campfire, marshmallows, booze, dearly beloved, and... did I mention the full moon? It was pretty damn special.

All of that was followed up with a sore head (him), goat-milking/feeding (the girls), and a home-cooked breakfast made from the farm's good food. By the time we left, the heat had kicked in again, so we stopped off for a swim in the Snoqualmie River, soaked up the last of the rural vibe, then headed home. It definitely felt as though summer had arrived, and with a bang.

A little freedom

Last week, Miss Pie began preschool - a momentous occasion not just for her, but for me. After doing this "stay at home mum" gig full time for the past three years, I get to have a morning to myself, twice a week. Heaven.

We chose the same preschool the Faery attended when we first moved to LA. She was happy there, and it's walking distance - two reasons that seemed good enough to me. I was a little worried that Miss Pie might not like the idea of me taking off for a few hours, though. When the Faery started, she'd already been in daycare back in Australia, while I worked, so the transition had been fairly effortless for her.

Miss Pie had been gearing up for, and talking about preschool for so long, that when it came to the big day, she barely glanced my way as I was leaving. She almost left a trail of dust in her wake as she headed for the table with play dough. The girl was more than ready. When I collected her at lunch time, I was told she'd had a 'surprisingly' good transition and first day.

As for me? I headed to the local library to grab a book that I'd reserved, and had arrived only the day before. Timing! I also saw another book and, realising I didn't need to rush anywhere, sat down by a large window and began to read. Both books were bestselling memoirs, written by well-known bloggers, and I was curious to see what the big deal was. About an hour later, I'd read enough of the second book to know there was no need to borrow it. Something about it felt... inauthentic. Plus, I'm wary of a woman who (as evidenced in her many photos) gives birth with a full face of make-up and perfectly-coiffed hair, in a room crammed with friends and family, and hands out party favours immediately. I do not relate. Thankfully, the book I'd reserved is a cracker - every night since, I've been chuckling and annoying the shit out of J by reading excerpts to him. For once, I think I'll finish this book before it's due date (it's Let's Pretend This Never Happened by Jenny Lawson, in case you were wondering).

So, there you have it. My baby starts preschool and I spend my first morning of freedom at the library. Rock and roll, eh? It felt decadent, though, because I still have issues with the fact that I ain't bringing home any bacon these days. Once J heads to Seattle, and I'm alone with the girls for a few months, I'm hoping the preschool mornings will be a relished chance to keep my sanity intact - guilt free. I'll need the little breaks.

Indecisive

Photo source

Ever since I can remember, San Francisco has called to me. I can't remember how it started, but I know I was obsessed with Hitchcock's Vertigo when I was about 14, and watched it repeatedly. I'd always promised myself that if I ever travelled to the US, San Francisco would be one of the first cities I'd see... along with New York and New Orleans.

So far, I haven't been to any of those cities yet. Just LA, Portland and - a decade ago - Seattle.

Los Angeles had never actually held any appeal to me, and yet here I am. Go figure. That's the beauty of life, I suppose. You never know for sure what's around the corner.

Anyhow. Not long ago, J came up with the brilliant idea of a weekend in San Francisco. He thought I should fly up and have a weekend to myself there, as a bit of time out - for me.

I loved the idea, and got excited right away. Footloose and fancy free! Just myself for an afternoon, night, and morning - brilliant! I looked up flights, read up on accommodation... and then began to worry. Not about me, though. I can travel alone at the drop of a hat - I backpacked around various non-English speaking countries back in the day, so less than two days alone in an American city? Piece of cake.

My main concern was that I'm still breastfeeding Miss Pie, and don't plan to wean her just yet (like with her sister, I was planning to at about 18 months).  Although it's only a couple of times a day, and she sleeps through the night, I started to fret about what may happen if I'm away for 36 hours. Yeah, sure, I hear you say, pack a breast pump for relief. I just detest that thing, though, and haven't used it in many, many months. I haven't exactly had a need.

My other main issue was that stupidly useless feeling, guilt. Making memories for myself in a fun city, without my loved ones around. Sometimes it's nice to look back on shared memories of places. Guilt, also, about money. We've had to really tighten the belt lately, and it almost seems selfish to spend money on flights and a hotel, just for me.

After a bit of negotiation with J about driving freeways (the thought scares me silly), we decided to plan a road trip instead, and for him to take a couple of days off work so we could have an extended weekend in San Francisco. The pros? No worries about my boobs or accidental weaning, we could all be together, and it would be easier to get around some parts of San Francisco with a car - making it possible to include some redwood forests on the itinerary. I grabbed a copy of Lonely Planet's San Francisco and read, read, read.

Then life got in the way for a couple of weeks. More immediate matters needed to be taken care of, and San Francisco plans got put on the back burner.

Until last night. I watched a film I'd vaguely promised myself I wouldn't (after hearing mixed reviews from friends). Let's just say the film's plot involves a Western woman travelling alone to rediscover herself. This film was available for streaming on Netflix, it was Friday night, I was in the mood for something frothy to watch, and J assured me he wouldn't grow a man-gina if we watched it together... and yep, the self-absorbed clichés and foreign stereotypes abounded.

However, the scenery was stunning and it got me thinking about travelling again. I envied this woman, so free. I began wishing I was going alone to San Francisco alone, after all. Trips alone to do the grocery shopping just aren't cutting it for me any more. Then today, J asked me if I still wanted to go to San Francisco on a road trip, or alone. I couldn't answer him. Pathetic, huh?

I've realised that the recent devastation in Japan has me somewhat anxious about a major earthquake happening here, and being separated from my family. Not being able to protect them, or get to them. The stuff that people lose sleep over. I need to get a grip.

I know that - alone or with my people - it'll be wonderful to see the Golden Gate Bridge, walk through Chinatown, ride a tram down one of those hair-raising hills... I just wish I could decide, once and for all, how to go about it.

Stay tuned...