Category Archives: Family Fun

January 4, 2016 · 5:16 pm

200 Miles: My 2015 New Year’s Resolution Report

I am a fair-weather runner, which means I only like to run when it is between 50 and 65 degrees, with no rain or snow, no dogs, and no hills.

Until last year when my crazy runner siblings told me that we were all going to run a New Years 5K. That means you start your run sometime after 11 pm and you try to time it so that you cross the finish line at midnight. I will also mention that this 5K was in Idaho and it was 13 below zero. I am from North Carolina where it only goes 13 below zero every ten years. But I am all for trying new things. We dressed for the occasion.

Surprisingly, it was a great experience. And I thought to myself, if I can run in the middle of the night in Idaho when it is negative 13, I can run in any North Carolina weather. I need to stop being a pansy.

So I made a goal to run 200 miles.

That sounds impressive, but it isn’t really. It is only about four miles a week. But that is the beauty of goals, isn’t it? A big goal is simply the sum of a bunch of tiny ones.

I bought new shoes, since if I was going to run 200 miles I wanted to be as comfortable as possible, and I made a card and taped it to my kitchen cabinet so that I would be reminded of my goal. Every time I ran I marked how many miles I went. As the year progressed things were going pretty well. Slowly but surely the tally marks increased.

But then I got sick . . . for the entire month of October. This put me behind, and I agonized that I would have to make up all of that running during the coldest months of the year.

By the time November came I still had 30 miles left to run and I was doing everything I could to catch up. My 6-foot 17-inch African brother who came for Thanksgiving said, “I’ll go running with you and help you catch up. We could 10 miles in one day.” Ha, ha, dear brother. Remember you are from Kenya, where running was invented.

Instead I had him run with my husband so that they could wear each other out.

Then a week or so later my husband asked, “How many miles do you have left?”

“Twenty-four,” I said.

“Oh, that is easy! That is a little less than a marathon. You could do that in three hours.”

Another good joke.

But I was making progress, even if it was little by little. By this time I was running very regularly and I felt better than ever. The time I spent running became a sacred time to think and problem solve and to watch the stars.

Plus, it felt so satisfying to watch the tally marks increase on my card.

By the second week of December I had six miles left. Ironically, it was the week my husband surprised me with a 15th anniversary trip to the Bahamas.

So guess where I ran my last six miles.

(We didn’t actually run on the beach. We ran on the roads, but this makes a better photo.)

It was a perfect ending to my year of 200 miles. I started in frigid Idaho and ended in the breezy Caribbean.

Now what to do this year? My running sister told me I should run a 10K. I told her I would do that if she memorizes the first 10 amendments to the Constitution. A kilometer for an amendment. She said she would think about it.

We’ll see who is the most ambitious. And, in the end, the most rewarded.

Now the question is whether or not I will go running tomorrow morning . . .

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December 22, 2015 · 5:10 am

Confessions of a Xenophile

Before we begin, I have to tell you that I have passionate love/hate vibes towards those who post photos of themselves in foreign countries (ah-hem: Steve…Vanessa…Rebekah…Keri…). I salivate just looking at passports, suitcases and maps. Photos of people I know having experiences abroad make me feel like a fish in a fish tank, watching the world go by without me. And yet, as painful as it is, I can’t look away.

So I hesitate sharing these photos with you, lest you are a fellow xenophile whose heart yearns to see photos like this yet breaks at the same time. But listen, we just have to face the fact: there is a place called the Bahamas, and somebody has to go there and help boost tourism in that country. Hate me or love me, we are all just going to have to deal with it. Scroll through the photos if you have it in you. Like my guide said before I jumped into the Blue Hole last Friday, “it’s over quick.”

(Too quick for my liking.)

Here is the story: Scott completely took me by surprise last Wednesday morning when he handed me a pair of new sandals and said, “Pack your bags, Chelsea. Tomorrow we are going to the Bahamas!”

This has never happened to me before–getting surprised with a trip or going to the Bahamas.

We went to Nassau and then to a more remote island. This might give you an idea of how big the island is:It is still hard to believe I was there. Sniff.The first day there we went kayaking, snorkeling and cliff jumping. As for accommodations, we roughed it . . . no luxury hotel for us! Instead we stayed in at “Surfer’s Haven” with our guide and his wife. He was an incredible guide. She was an incredible cook. I’m always trying to learn new things for my books (I write mesoamerican fantasy romances. It’s a new genre, soon to be the rage) and our hosts had a great variety of tropical plants in their yard including coconuts, orchids, lemons the size of grapefruits, pineapple plants . . . . . . and poisonwood, which was very well marked.This is Tom, our guide, surfer, kayaker, diver, and native Bahamian:I have to admit that the weather wasn’t ideal every day. On our last day it got a little windy. Here is a little surfer’s hangout at the beach. I suppose they use car seats because they are the only chairs heavy enough to not blow away. And if a hurricane came rolling through at least you could buckle up. To escape the wind our guide took us underground to a mile-long cave filled with graffiti, some of which dates back 200 years. Here were some of our favorite signatures. And this is how we got out.Saturday night the BYU/Utah game was on. Of course being in a foreign country on a small island was not going to stop Scott from finding a tv, even if it happens to be in a bar. We had a great time watching the game and teaching the 18-year-old bartender the rules of American football. We drove over the famous “glass window bridge” many times while we were there. This is the left side of the bridge (the Bahamian Bank, or the Caribbean side):And this is the Atlantic side of the bridge: On our way home we hung out in Nassau for a few hours.This is how they celebrate Christmas in the Bahamas. But we missed our kids so it was time to head home. Flying over Charleston, SC.

I hope you were able to make it through the photos okay. Are you crying? I am. I know it is hard. Now that I am home I can hardly stand looking at them! The agony!

But I have to keep reminding myself that the best is yet to come. So much to do in this world. So many things to discover. What a glorious place this earth is!

I’m so glad Scott threw caution to the wind and planned this adventure for us. We have so much to celebrate this year. It was the perfect time, at the perfect place and with the perfect person.

I hope YOU are the next person to go do something memorable. Go ahead! Make it happen! I want to see your photos. Really, I do. 😉

When I Grow Up

I just got back from vacation out West where I met with a lot of very, very old people.

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My father’s siblings and their spouses

First I met the mule man. His name is Lew. My mom wanted me and my kids to meet him since he had mules, and she thought my kids would like to come and feed them. Not my first idea of a good time, but I always do what my mother says.

We found Lew out back by the barn. I am pretty sure he was close to 800 years old. He had three mules tied up to a fence by the corral. He taught my kids how to hold their hands flat as they fed alfalfa pellets to the mules. Once they had mastered that skill he said, “I’ll teach you anther way to feed the mule, and if you can feed him like this I’ll go into the house and give you a dollar.” Then he took an alfalfa pellet, put it in his mouth, bent over, and to the horror of my children, he let the mule take the pellet from his lips.

After wiping a smile (and mule spit) from his mouth, the ancient man slung a saddle up on the mule, slung up Naomi, and then slung up Dan as easily as if they were all made of paper mache. He led the mule around in a few circles. Then Danny wanted to be in front, so Lew taught them how to switch places. He told Naomi to stand up on top of the saddle–yes, on top–and had Danny to crawl through her legs as she slid behind Danny’s back and viola! Like magic Danny was in the front. I wish you could have seen the pride shining in my children’s eyes at acquiring this novel, new skill. I could read Naomi’s mind: Now THIS is a TALENT!

After that he lifted Danny off the mule but told Naomi she could slide off the back of the mule’s rump, “but don’t ever do it on any other horse or mule unless you want to get your head kicked off.” As he was putting the saddle way he said to me, “Did you know that I have five daughters and each of them can ride a bucking horse and shoot, skin and clean their own elk. But my greatest regret is that not one of them can play the piano.” Before Naomi could say, Hey, that is not so bad! My mom piped up and said, “These girls can play piano! And they can sing for you. RIGHT NOW!”

So, since I always do what my mom tells me, we did. In Lew’s tack shed. Surrounded by saddles and ropes he made himself, while he sat misty-eyed on an old pick up truck seat. To our delight, he reciprocated by reciting a cowboy poem from memory. When it was time to go back to my Mom’s, Lew looked at my two-year-old and said, “Since you didn’t get to ride the mule I’ll take you on the four wheeler.” And then he drove my Levi back to the house, making sure they crossed under every single sprinkler a long the way. I may have had my doubts about the mule man when we arrived, but by the time we left I was his biggest fan.

Next I went to a family reunion, where I saw my Uncle John whom I have not seen for years. He engaged me in conversation in which he asked me all about my life. Then he called my children to him, looked them steadily in the eye and said, “Your grandfather had a beautiful voice, just like you. Did you know that? I knew your grandfather very well. He was a wonderful man. I know because he was a good friend of mine. And it is important that you to know how wonderful he was.” I tell my kids every day how great my dad was, but like a lot of things, it doesn’t sink in until they can hear it from someone else. This was truly a great gift from my uncle, and one I will always be grateful for.

Finally, I attended the 90th birthday party of one of my favorite people in the world: my grandmother. Actually, she is not my grandmother. She is Scott’s grandmother, but I claim her whole heartedly. She is extremely intelligent, talented and has read almost every book ever written. When she talks to you she makes you feel like you are her absolute favorite grandchild, and that you possess talents that no one else has, and that your talents can make a difference in people’s lives and will change the world. And because she is who she is, you believe her. If you met her you would claim her as your grandmother, too.

All of these encounters make me wonder if I am cut out to be a good old person.

What kind of old lady will I be? Will I be the old lady that complains about everything and tells the younger generation to take their shoes off and get out of my flowers or don’t touch my breakable things and eat your vegetables? Or will I have something wiser to say like “I remember your grandfather and he was a good singer and a good friend” or “you, my dear, have talents that will change the world” or “let me show you how to switch places on a mule.”

On the Forth of July I entered a 5K race. So did my husband, many of my in-laws and most of my kids and nieces and nephews. My athletic in-laws and competitive husband took off, leaving me behind with the smell their burned rubber, and I was on my own to pad my way amongst strangers down the streets of Manti. Before long footsteps came from behind and I looked to see my nephew, Max.

There was no way I was going to be beaten by an 8-year-old. Especially one who is related to me. I broke away from him for a while, but a half mile later I heard those shoes coming up behind me again. So I let him keep pace with me, and we talked about the weather, the pros of stretching before a race, and how often he practiced running. Throughout all this I always made sure I was slightly ahead of him at all times. When there was a mile left he was still on my tail. (Inconceivable!) I debated what I should do. Should I pick up my pace and leave him behind? After all, I do have a 28-minute personal best that I needed either meet or surpass. Besides that, if I came in too late I knew I would have to prepare a good verbal comeback for my husband when he asks if I stopped to pick flowers.

“How you doing, Max?”

“Okay.”

“Are you feeling good?”

“Yes.”

He looked good. His pace was good. He wasn’t limping, he wasn’t complaining. I measured up the situation, calculated the risks.

Then I asked,”You want to sprint the last part with me?”

“Yah.”

“Are you sure you can do it?”

“I’m sure.”

So as we rounded the corner to the finish line, we sprinted. I still could have left him and crossed first, but we ran side by side until right before the finish line when I pulled back and let him cross first.

Now he can say he can beat his aunt.

It is a start, I guess. Luckily, I am only 37. I have a lot of years still to learn how those 80 and 90 year olds do it. But hopefully, when I grow up and become an old lady, I will be a good one.

By the way, my enchanting niece who also happens to be Idaho’s Miss Outstanding Teen, is doing a project called Bridging Generations. You should check it out. #BridgingGenerations

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April 30, 2015 · 4:14 am

The Burning of the Parthenon

For a school project Sophie and a friend were required to make a scale model of the Parthenon.

There was some good father/daughter time involved, and a beautiful replica was created. This was at Christmastime.

It is now April.

And we still have the Parthenon.

It migrated around our house, going from the dining room to the living room until finally finding a temporary home under the coffee table.

“We have to do something with the Parthenon,” I finally told Scott.

“Let’s burn it,” he said. “With gasoline.”

“No,” I said.

“With starting fluid.”

“No,” I said.

“With lighters.”

“I can’t use a lighter,” chimed in my 5-year-old son, “Let’s use matches!”

“Who taught you to use matches?” I said.

“Uncle Seth.”

Thanks a lot, dear brother.

So for Family Home Evening (something we do every Monday night) we took a box of matches and commenced the destruction of the Parthenon.

Since we are responsible parents, we also used this as an opportunity to teach the kids how to use a fire extinguisher.

It was pretty exciting for everyone involved, and filled with valuable teaching moments.

We wanted to let the flames consume as much of the Parthenon as possible before we let the kids use the extinguisher, so we let it burn.

There were photos taken, and some merry-making.

The flames rose higher.

And higher.

At one point the merry-making stopped and we all watched the fire with a growing sense of unease.

“Perhaps we should not have done this so close to our house,” I murmured.

“Nah, it will be fine,” said my husband.

When the flames started to melt the aluminum barricade that stood between the Parthenon and our deck I thought this was the perfect time to share a little family history.

“You know . . . ” I said. “The mountains around Malibu often catch on fire, and when my mom was a little girl her dad would sometimes stand on the roof with a hose to wet it down so their house didn’t burn.”

“I think I’ll go get a hose,” said Scott.

Once the side of the house and the deck were hosed down we felt better.

Then we decided it was time for the kids to do their own fire fighting.

Family Night didn’t last too long–maybe 20 minutes at most. By the end the Parthenon was an ashy pile of black ruins. Although it became a little dicey there for a moment, now we have four kids who can wield a fire extinguisher.

And our house is still standing.

All’s well that ends well.

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March 23, 2015 · 11:59 pm

Camping With Kids

Ferron Reservoir, Utah

When I say the words “camping with kids” what images come to mind?

Inconsolable babies? Thunderstorms? Full diapers, mysterious rashes, tick bites? Mosquitoes, bats, burned food, no food, rustic latrines with no toilet paper, snakes, mountains of laundry . . . shall I go on? Would you rather not talk about it?

For parents, camping with kids can be one of the most pointless, frustrating and miserable things you may ever do in your lifetime. Why would you take your entire family out of their normal schedule and air-conditioned environment and purposely put them in a situation where they are cold, wet, dirty, hungry and as uncomfortable as possible?

Scott and I have taken our kids camping in Idaho, Wyoming, Utah, Colorado, Virginia, South Carolina and North Carolina.

Sinks Canyon, Wyoming

We’ve camped in bitter cold, pounding rain, merciless wind and catastrophic thunderstorms. We’ve camped in the mountains, on beaches and in the swamp. And we still go out for more. We can’t get enough of it. We love it.

Perhaps we are insane.

Hurricane Campground, Virginia

I understand if you say that camping with kids is not for you. It is a lot of work. When we go camping we only take the things we know we will use and it still looks like we are planning a three-week vacation to the moon. You’ll have to bring diapers and bikes and pack-and-plays and books and sleeping bags and tents and extra clothes and food and stoves and dutch ovens and coolers and propane tanks . . . you get the idea. And remember, you will need at least an entire day to prepare for your camping trip and two entire days to clean up when you get back!

And then there are the nights! Oh, the agony!

Hurricane Campground, Virginia

It will most likely be one of the Top Three Most Horrible Nights of Your Life, right up there with the other two times you went camping with kids. You will either be freezing cold, sweltering hot or getting eaten alive by invisible bugs. You will hear strange noises, have weird neighbors, and there will almost always be someone who needs help finding the outhouse (hopefully it will be one of your own children and not someone from the next camp). And if you bring a baby, even one that regularly sleeps through the night, expect that just when you finally drift off to sleep he will wake up with a 4-alarm cry. If you expect to sleep through the night, you are in trouble.

Better instead to expect to have a great story to tell everyone else at breakfast.

And speaking of breakfast, did you know camping has a magical effect on food? There is something about not having an option for food for miles and miles that makes any scrap of food taste unbelievable. Dirt and charcoal become flavor enhancers instead of reasons to throw food away. It is miraculous how the outdoors changes your perception of “tasty.”

Ferron Reservoir, Utah

And when food does turn out perfectly, well, you eat like kings. Grateful, ravenous kings.

Merchant’s Millpond, North Carolina

If the above scenarios seem unappealing to you, than camping with kids is not for you. But then, isn’t that the point? It isn’t for you, right?

Merchant’s Millpond, North Carolina

What you see as a world of work, your children will see as a world of discovery.

Eastatoe Falls, North Carolina

Grayson Highlands, Virginia

Merchants Millpond, North Carolina

Stone Mountain, North Carolina

Camping gives kids the opportunity to do a lot of things that are normally off-limits. They can get as dirty as they want. There is no schedule to adhere to, no clocks, no lessons, no school. Boys can swing from trees and girls can find their inner Amazon. They can revert to their carnal nature that their parents are always trying to suppress. They get to sleep outside, pee outside, eat with dirty hands. They howl at the moon. They worship fire.

Camping builds character exponentially and fosters gratitude. Little things become big things: a zipper that zips up–a miracle! A warm sleeping bag–a luxury! A spoon–incredible! Dry socks–to die for!! A flashlight with batteries–heaven!!

Eno River, North Carolina

Camping makes work meaningful and concentrates the big, grand, hard-to-fathom Law of the Harvest into a small period of time that they can comprehend. Would you like a fire to get warm? Gather fire wood. Would you like a tent to sleep in? Set it up. Want to get across the lake? Paddle.

Ferron Reservoir, Utah

Merchant’s Millpond, North Carolina

But getting kids to do that stuff is easy. The hard part is getting everyone to fold up the tents when we are done, because seriously, who wants to go home?

Merchant’s Millpond, North Carolina

Have I convinced you yet? No? Well then I know what you are thinking . . . the cost! Surely it must cost a lot of money to get all the camping paraphernalia you need to go out in the wild, especially for kids. But I guarantee that it will cost you less to take your family camping, even if you had to buy all the gear from scratch, than it would take to get your family to Disneyworld. And you can use your camping stuff over and over and over again.

Plus, when you are outside and you don’t have electronics and time commitments, strange things start happening. Kids talk to each other. Kids talk to you. They play games with real, live people.

Ferron Reservoir, Utah

They get to use things like knives and axes; tools that were used for hundreds of years before computers. Tools every child knew how to use by the time they were twelve. Tools that built civilizations.

Ferron Reservoir, Utah

Then, if you really want to see something cool, give your kid a camera and tell them to go far a way. Then see what they bring back.

Ferron Reservoir in Utah, taken by Sophie

For me it is worth it just to see how excited they are to sleep in hammocks or see the light on my son’s face when he says, “You mean I can go to the bathroom in the WOODS?! Awesome!” (Granted, my daughters’ reaction is quite different.)

When they are 75 years old they may not remember the video game or the toy or the book you gave them, but they will remember the tree that almost hit your car (true story!) and the time you fell in the creek, and they will remember listening to the coyotes howl and they will remember the way that trout wriggled when they touched it. And every miserable act of suffering will become a legend in the grand hallways of your family history.

Duck Fork, Utah

But when it all comes down to it, the reason I go camping with kids is for the adventure. There are not enough adventures in our current lifestyle. Why? Because all we do is push buttons. We push buttons for work, for fun, for social needs, for school. Believe me, unless you are breaking the code of the Enigma, it is hard to have an adventure pushing buttons.

Some place in North Carolina

So go on. Get out there. Suffer. Be miserable.

And make adventure happen.

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Tagged as camping, camping with kids, parenting, state parks, the outdoors

March 1, 2015 · 2:05 pm

Shovel Your Way To Washington, D.C.

Usually when we have a snow day it is really exciting and there is cheering, cartwheels and confetti throwing. But when you have snow day after snow day after snow day . . .

By the eighth snow day my kids’ brains were beginning to atrophy. They were counting bricks in the dining room (there aren’t any) and chasing each other with kitchen utensils, while I was curled up in a little ball in my closet nibbling frantically on chocolate.

We had planned a trip to DC planned this weekend, but because of the snow we didn’t think we’d even be able to get our mini van out of our cul-de-sac. You see, we live at the bottom of a hill where even snowplows dare not go (at least for the fist two days after a storm . . . sometimes more) and we were stuck. Scott would still be going to DC (because he was going for business) in his 4×4 truck, but we would be stuck at home.

Stuck. At. Home.

To humor us Scott tried four times to get the van up the hill to prove that it was hopeless. “There is just too much ice on the road,” he said.

But Sophie was determined. She rounded up her sisters and they all took shovels to the top of the hill. And for the better part of an hour they cleared two tire tracks in the snow.

Five hours later we arrived in Washington, D.C.

We saw the White House. (Free)

The Museum of Natural Science. (Free)

The Library of Congress (Free)

We surreptitiously ended up at Ford’s Theater. Not part of the original plan, but a great bonus. (Also free)

The International Spy Museum (A great hit, but not free.)

And The Red Velvet Cupcakery (Not free but worth it.)

To end our whirlwind 2-day trip we stopped off at the temple.

We saw the model:

And the real thing:

“Did you learn as much as you would have if you had gone to school for those two weeks?” I asked the kids as we drove home.

“More!” They said.

All because a girl and her sisters were willing to shovel.

Thanks, Sophie!

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Tagged as children, D.C., family trip, Free, snow days, Washington, What to do in D.C.

January 22, 2015 · 3:09 am

The Only Six Toys You Will Ever Need

Toymakers are the world’s greatest fibbers.

All you have to do is go into the toy aisle, find a box that says “Hours of Endless Fun!” take it home, give it to your child and then start the timer.

It won’t be long before the toy breaks, runs out of battery power, or the child gets bored with it. In my eleven-year history of toy buying I have spent a lot of money on these kinds of toys.

Toy companies should understand that I only have four simple desires when it comes to toys:

1. It needs to be creative.

2. It needs to last. In other words, my kids need to be able to throw it, drop it, flush it, smash it, draw on it or leave it outside and still be able to play with it.

3. It needs to help them be self-sufficient, in other words, no mom required. Toys are for kids, not for moms. Moms do enough wonderful things with their kids all the time, so kids need toys that don’t need moms.

4. It needs to be able to grow with the child. You know a toy is a keeper when the child doesn’t toss it aside when they’ve grown older, but instead finds more sophisticated ways to play with it.

Here are the best toys in our house. They might not be the first thing that comes to your mind when you think “toy,” but these take the prize for being worthy of the label “Hours of Endless Fun!”

Numero Uno: Paper

I’m afraid to say my children alone have probably contributed to the destruction of several forests. (But we recycle!) We go through reams of paper, using it from everything from drawing to writing to crafts to paper airplanes to origami.

Seven years ago someone told me that newspaper printers sometimes give away “end rolls.” I went to a newspaper printer who gave me THREE of these wonderful rolls, for FREE!

photo by Danny Dyreng

This alone has been one of the best “toys” in our house. We use it for wrapping paper, car cities, big paper projects, banners, etc. We are now down to one roll, but I believe there is still enough to get Levi through childhood.

2. Tape

Duct tape: Good for making wallets, hair bows, fixing broken toys (the ones that require Hours of Endless Repairs), doll casts and neighborhood boat races.

Painters tape: Good for hanging up pictures, creating barriers, bounderies, and indoor hopscotch games.

Scotch tape: Good for everything else.

3. Cars!

Oh, how I love cars! I cannot say enough good things about cars. A car fits perfectly in the palm of the hand. Comes in any color, any style. Can be quiet or loud, depending on the driver’s mood. Can play with friends or alone. Can play outside or inside in water, mud or sand. Can fit in a purse, leaves no mess, and is virtually indestructable.

I’m not reallly sure what boys played with before cars.

4. Dolls

Dolls will never go out of style.

Girls love them at any age.

And dolls don’t have to cost $100.00 to be an excellent confidant and friend. Naomi still won’t part with Olivia.

Olivia is a $19.00 American Girl copy-cat with ratty hair and a lazy eye, and Naomi will not give her away.

Believe me, I’ve tried.

“Olivia will never go to the thrift store. Ever.”

5. Balls

Now, balls are a little bit of a mystery to me, since I have never really understood their appeal. Watching a boy with a ball is like watching a cat with a semi-dead mouse. They go a little berserk. This toy does break my “no mom required” requirement but ultimately he won’t need me anymore, in fact, he will be glad when he finally gets a real pitcher.

6. Books

This is what my kids revert to at the end of the day. It is their happy place, and mine.

Hours, ladies and gentlemen of the toy-making industry, hours and hours of endless fun . . .

. . . and quiet.

There are other “toys” that didn’t make this list like sand, water, sidewalk chalk, sticks and string, but you get the point. There are a lot of great toys out there. A couple of them come from the toy store.

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Tagged as parenting, toys

June 16, 2014 · 12:47 am

Quest for Eastatoe Falls

Scott and I had planned on going backpacking with the kids for several weeks. Scott spent three days preparing for our trip and carefully packed and weighed each of the children’s back packs to make sure they would be light enough to carry, but still have everything they would need. Then he divided their tent into three parts, having each of the girls carry a part. I went to the grocery store and bought enough food for three meals for six people that weighed less than fifteen pounds and could be easily reconstituted with water. We packed headlamps, a couple diapers, and swim suits.

Then, on the very last day of school, which was a half-day, we picked up the kids and headed out west. We were going to Eastatoe Falls, a semi-remote campsite in the mountains of South Carolina.

We drove for four hours in the car, and 15 minutes before we were to arrive at the trail head we were battered by rain,

then hail,

and then this:

Yes, we saw it fall, not 10 feet from our van. You should have heard the screams in our van! (And just so you know, Erin Newton, I was not one of the screamers.)

Here is another angle.

Perhaps this was a sign that we should turn back. Or perhaps it was just a stumbling block in our path to adventure! We determined it was the latter and 45 minutes later we arrived at the trail head via a back road.

Once there, there was a sign posted, telling us that the campsite we were headed for was closed because of, ironically, too many fallen trees. Could this be another sign that we were to give up our journey? No! Just another challenge in our quest. We must not give up! Onward!

We loaded everybody with their packs.

This is me hiking. I’ve hiked so much in my life I can do it with my eyes closed.

It wasn’t long, however, before we saw this:

Now the kids, who can unfortunately read, were getting nervous. “Shouldn’t we turn back?” They said. “That is the second warning sign.”

“Nah…” we told them, “they just put up those signs for other people. Not for us.” See what great parents we are?

We directed them to keep moving down the trail, but the joy of backpacking was quickly dimming for our young adventurers and keeping everyone optimistic was getting trickier.

We tried to seem undaunted.

But by the time we passed the THIRD warning sign we reluctantly decided that perhaps we should go back. So with a heavy backpack and even heavier heart we turned around to hike back to the van. The kids were jubilant. Where we would spend the night we didn’t know. It was already 8 pm and soon it would be dark.

After looking unsuccessfully for a different campsite, we finally admitted defeat and began the search for a hotel. It must have been a busy weekend out there in the mountains because it took us stopping at SIX different hotels before we finally found a room in an Econolodge. I grudgingly admit that we probably slept better than we would have if we had been in a restricted campsite surrounded by widow makers. (Or, our case, orphan makers.)

But we still wanted to make it to the falls.

So the next morning we drove back to the trail head, and this time the kids could leave their packs in the car. We walked the 2.7 miles down into the gorge, passed all the warning signs (there were four in all) and down to one of the most lovely places on earth.

Our kids, who had been dragging their feet the night before, complaining and moaning, now practically ran down the path.

It was clear when we arrived that this was not Eastatoe Falls, but the Garden of Eden.

Three cheers for (safe) adventures.

Three cheers for dads who make adventures possible.

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Filed under Family Fun, Parenting

Tagged as backpacking with kids, camping with kids, Eastatoe

April 29, 2014 · 2:08 pm

Strange Mormon Customs: Big Families

Once, when my husband told a co-worker that he had four children the man joked, “So are you Catholic or Mormon?”

Ha! And that was only for four.

It is obvious why devout Catholics end up with big families. But Mormons? What is their deal? Do they not use birth control either? Do they get a tithing discount for every child they have? Are they doing it for tax incentives?

Or are they trying to take over the world?

Perhaps.

Or perhaps it is because it makes us happy. My husband’s mother bore six children and my mom had seven. We both loved growing up in large families.

I have three amazing sisters to laugh with, cry with and swap kids with. I have older brothers who picked on me mercilessly but also stood by me when I was in trouble. Growing up, I adored my many cousins and still keep in contact with them.

As a child in a big, loving family I never even considered having less than twenty.

It is no secret that our church leaders tell us regularly to “multiply and replenish the earth.” The fact that we would take such counsel seriously makes some people squirm.

But before you think we are all just mindless rabbits, let me assure you that we are faithful people, not stupid people.

There is no quota. We are not asked to procreate at will without considering the mother’s health (physical, mental and emotional) and many other factors that may make it difficult to support a large family. Whether or not birth control is used is up to the couple’s agency and discretion. In my opinion, to keep adding children into a family without thought and planning is as bad an idea as using abstinence (in marriage) as birth control. Having a child is a huge decision, but having a healthy relationship with your spouse is paramount.

Church leaders are simply asking us to not let selfishness or fear of the future overcome our desire to have children. Once, when Scott and I were deciding on when to have our third child, it seemed as if there was always some impediment nine months away that would make it difficult to have a baby. But we decided that if we waited for the “perfect time” to have a baby it would never happen at all.

More often than not babies find a way to be welcomed, cared for, loved, and never regretted–even when at first it seemed like it would be impossible.

Many people who don’t have large families can’t understand the desire to have one. My grandmother, for instance. Each time my mother would call my grandmother–who was not a Mormon–and announce she was again pregnant, my grandmother would tell her she was a “glutton for punishment.”

Since I am number six, I’m glad my mom didn’t listen to her.

I have found that the blessings of having a big family are innumerable. When you have a large family you are automatically part of something. You belong. (And if you have a big enough family you are sure to have at least one sibling that you like.) Everyone needs to belong, to be inherently admired and loved…not because they have done something special, but merely because they exist.

That is why people who don’t have supportive families join gangs.

When you have a big family every day is a party. There is always someone to play with, to serve, to talk to, to commiserate with, to make you laugh.

There is a reason why they call families of lions “prides.” You feel great pride when you are part of a large, respected family, headed by a matriarch and patriarch who lead and teach with love and a great affection for their posterity. You feel that you have a stewardship to your family and you are constantly encouraged to honor the family’s name, to keep it untarnished.

People who have never grown up in a family like this don’t think that it is possible.

But it is.

I do know of one Mormon friend who felt “lost” in her family. She felt like there were so many kids that she didn’t matter. She was one of 15. All the more reason for parents to be wise and thoughtful when making decisions to have another child.

Another reason we have lots of kids is because Mormons are alwasy on a quest for self-improvement. We have a great desire to become better, to refine ourselves, to achieve excellence. Is there no greater refiner’s fire than to raise a child?

Peter de Vries wrote “The value marriage is not that adults produce children but that children produce adults.” I know of no other occupation that demands so much focus, creativity, endurance, wisdom, unconditional love, selflessness, generosity, humor, patience, sacrifice, kindness, innovation, organization, composure, self-control, cleanliness and tolerance. The more I try to “master” my children, the more I learn that it is more about mastering myself.

It is true that kids can be a pain sometimes, but they are also a lot fun. They are fun to tickle, to teach, to hold, to laugh with, to cuddle, to sooth, to heal, to learn from. They each come with their own very unique personalities–even my identical twins–and it is fascinating to get to know them as they grow and mature.

As Latter-Day Saints we believe in the eternal nature of families. The family relationships we nurture here will be one of the few things we can take with us to the next life. If being with your family forever and ever and ever doesn’t give you motivation to get along, nothing will.

I used to think that the things that would give me the greatest joy would be to sing on big stage in front of thousands (which I’ve done) to go kayaking on a glass-smooth river (which I have done) or to publish a novel (haven’t done that one yet). But the greatest joy I have is to hear my kids laughing together. To watch them playing together. To witness them doing something kind for a sibling without being prompted.

That is true joy.

Perhaps I will change my mind when I finally publish a book, but I doubt it.

As I sit here and finish this post I am entering my ninth month of pregnancy. I am large and so obviously pregnant that it is no longer taboo for perfect strangers to ask me how far along I am. And they almost always add, “Is this your first?”

Category Archives: Family Fun

200 Miles: My 2015 New Year’s Resolution Report

Confessions of a Xenophile

When I Grow Up

The Burning of the Parthenon

Camping With Kids

Shovel Your Way To Washington, D.C.

The Only Six Toys You Will Ever Need

Quest for Eastatoe Falls

Strange Mormon Customs: Big Families

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