One year ago today

One year ago today, we snapped this photo.

That was taken in the waiting area of the probate courtroom outside of which we were waiting for our turn to be pronounced a legal and forever family. Martin's adoption finalization day.

It had been a long day already. We got the kids up early and took them on a really long drive for a visit with Martin's birthparents...our first with both of the birthparents there. Martin was exhausted after all of the excitement.

Olivia was also exhausted but also a bit charged up from trying to steal the spotlight from Martin. It is really hard for a first child, I think, to give up the limelight to a second child after spending 4+ years as the "star" of the family. Even harder for her that day, I believe, when the sole purpose of the events of the entire day were centered around Martin and not at all around her. After a few near-meltdowns from Olivia at the birthparents visit as she was trying to steal the spotlight, we talked through the court proceedings with Olivia as we drove from the visit to the courthouse. We explained that this would be very, very formal and all about Martin, and it was OK to let him be the center of attention for once. We told her that Mommy and Daddy would be called upon to speak, but she was to sit still and listen throughout the proceedings.

Let's just say we were a little nervous about whether she'd be able to follow those instructions.

I really wish I had a picture of what she looked like in that chair sitting at that table watching as each of her parents were called up to the stand to "testify". We were asked a series of questions which amounted to agreeing that Martin was ours and we were his, etc. We each had to go to the stand for our round of questions separately while the other sat next to Olivia at the table and held Martin (who had fallen asleep). And I remember looking over at our big girl, who sat quietly and listened intently, giving me a "thumbs up" when she caught my eye.

She was just so proud to be in this very grown-up position and behaved beautifully. I don't know for sure, but I think she felt the weight of this day, just a little. She has always loved her brother and thought of him as her own. But now he would be legally recognized for that which was already a reality in our hearts. We are family.

An Interview with Kumar

 

Today is Interview Project Day!

For this year’s interview project, I was pleased to interview Kumar, who blogs at Stuckout. Kumar currently works part time at a small liberal arts college in the sustainability office, working with students to start new projects on campus and collect data. He also works part time with the local city government in the Department of Metropolitan Development and the local Urban Enterprise Association. He is an adoptee who was adopted from an orphanage in India when he was about a year and a half old. When Kumar was in high school, his Dad died after suffering from ALS. He grew up in Southwest Ohio and blogs about ALS, Adoption and Family.


Did you always know/realize that you were adopted?

I think I always knew that I was different than my sister. I think I owned the fact that I was adopted at an early age and would tell my friends at school when I was younger. I don't ever remember there being any confusion in my mind as to whether or not I was adopted. I took it for granted, it seemed like a fact of life, just like going to school and playing in the woods with my friends. I never assumed there was an alternative.

What is your earliest memory of being different?

I think I was aware at a very young age (2 or 3 years old) that our family was different than most other families. I am not sure if I attributed this difference to the skin color difference between us. I think I was aware that I had been born in India because I am told that I spoke about India occasionally as a small child.

How did your family help you process those feelings of being different, or what did they do to make you feel as if you belonged?

I don't think my family helped me explicitly. I don't have any specific memories of my parents helping me process my own emotions. From a pretty early age I was very protective of my own personal emotions and tended to push away any attempt at getting me to open up. I also remember that I spent a lot of energy, it seemed like a lot more than other children, trying to fit in. I wanted to completely neutralize any abnormalities so that kids would treat me the same way they treated everyone else. I had a strong need to conform as a small child (under age five). My parents never sat me down and talked with me about adoption. I knew that they would answer any questions I ever had, but I often felt it would burdensome for them to answer my questions. I projected emotions a lot of times onto them and my sister. I definitely feel that now I wish I had spent more time as a child/teenager asking questions about my adoption and exploring the emotions I had that felt particularly influenced by being adopted. I never felt like I wasn't loved or wasn't part of the family. The issue, as I see it now, is that even though they may love me the same way they love their biological child and I love them the same as they loved me, I did have a different experience growing up and that difference did not seem to be recognized. Yes, I felt like I belonged, but I belonged in a different way. My life began differently and my experience as a family member is different than theirs.

Did you know other families/children with adoption as a part of their story? Or were you the only one in your community/school?

There were quite a few other families and children that I played with as a child and knew as a teenager who were adopted. It was not strange to see white parents with children who were not white. I don't think I spent a lot of time thinking about those children's experiences in relation to my own, I think I did feel, and sometimes still do, some affinity with adopted children. I was very curious about their stories (as most people are).

   
What is the most ridiculous question you've ever received from a complete stranger about your adoption/origin/nationality?

They get pretty colorful at times, as I'm sure you have experienced. Most of the time the really ridiculous questions don't bother me because they usually represent complete and utter ignorance, its the people who try to "figure me out" that piss me off. Mostly I feel I get a lot of questions like: "Where are you from?" "Where did you grow up?" "Where are your parents from?" when people really want to know "why is your skin brown?" Why they think that it is acceptable to pry into my personal story, I don't know, but depending on my mood it can really piss me off.

Once I was in a bike shop where one of my buddies works and two teenagers came in and after looking at me strangely for a few minutes the girl asked me, "Are you an A-rab?" I was sort of dumbfounded and caught off guard. Her pronunciation was pretty unspectacular and all I could think was if she was asking me if I was a rabbi, for some reason. I quickly realized she thought I was Arab. Most people around here think I am hispanic and talk to me in Spanish. I know Spanish so when I respond in Spanish it really throws them for a loop which can be fun at times and again depending on the mood it can get under my skin.

 
Growing up, what was your family like? Did you take vacations? Live in the city or country? Have cousins/grandparents/aunts/uncles close? What kinds of traditions did you have for major holidays, like Thanksgiving?
We were a weird bunch. I grew up in a small intentional community in small town Ohio, Southwest-ish. The intentional community was out on a plot of land in the woods with a valley, plenty of open space, forests surrounding our house. We had chickens, ducks for a little while, a very faithful golden retriever and my parents maintained over an acre vegetable garden. The garden was my dad's passion, it was very hard to see him have to give up and stop gardening as he became ill (diagnosed with ALS).

We took road trips. My mom and dad traveled a ton as children so we went out west a few times and did a loop east twice during the summers of my elementary school. Peter worked for a robotics company that had a branch in Japan and he worked in Japan once for a three month period and we flew over and visited him for 2 and a half weeks. I'm not really sure how we had money to travel, it always seemed like we never had any money. I remember catching glimpses of bank receipts and worrying that we wouldn't have enough money for food, we always did.

Both Peter and Kitty, my mother, grew up where I grew up. Most of my uncles and aunts, their kids and my grandparents lived within a 15 minute bike ride from our house. I wasn't very close with my cousins growing up, but now feel much closer. Our family enjoys celebrating most traditional American holidays: Easter, Thanksgiving and Christmas. Every Easter we would get together (while the cousins were all little) and have an easter egg hunt at our grandparents house. Then we would do Ukranian egg dying. We are big into games and so we always play a few games of cards, Boggle, Pictionary and other nerdy games when we get together. We also own 8 or so kayaks/canoes between the relatives that we take out on lakes and rivers multiple times a year. Each Sunday evening most family members gather at one of the houses in town and we have a potluck style dinner. This dinner has been going on for as long as I can remember.

You talk a lot about how your Dad died of ALS when you were young. How old were you when he was diagnosed? When he died?

My father was diagnosed with ALS in 2001, I believe, I was 12. My grandfather, father's father, was diagnosed with ALS a year later and died in 2003 I think. Peter, my father, died when in December 2005 when I was a sophomore in high school and 16 years old.

What is the age difference between you and your sister, and how did she help you cope with the progression of your Dad's illness? How did you help her?

My sister is 2.5 years older than me. She was in her first year of college when Peter died. As I think I mentioned earlier I was a very stubborn teenager. I didn't want to talk about Peter's illness as it progressed. My sister, LilaRose, was much more vocal than I was. I could see how much Peter's illness hurt her. I didn't know how to support her and so I didn't do anything. I know now that I was very confused at the time, as should be expected, but my confusion led to me ignoring my struggles with his illness. I also felt ashamed, embarrassed by his illness and as a result spent a lot of time away from home, at friends houses, in town or at my high school girlfriend's home.

I can honestly say that I do not think I helped my sister at all during his illness. I was unwilling to talk about his illness and as a result shut her out. Immediately after his death all I wanted to do was return to school, to have my life back. I pushed back against my sister and mother as they reached out to me. They tried to get me to talk, but I refused.

Now, and for the past 5-6 years I have done a lot of processing/reflecting on those years. I have looked to and relied on LilaRose heavily for support when I miss Peter, or when I just want to talk about how weird he was. I talk with LilaRose about once a week and our conversations mostly focus on Peter, things we remember, how strange it still feels. Although, I resisted my sister's support as a high schooler I have found much comfort in it these past few years. It is comforting and helpful to have a sibling, especially during a loss.

It seems like you had a good relationship with your Dad and miss him a lot. How about your relationship with your Mom? Has that relationship grown or changed since losing your Dad?

I think my father and I had a good relationship. I honestly feel like he died before I ever got to know him as an adult outside of his role as my father. Saying that, I often wonder how much we would get along now since we would have had much more time to "get to know each other" as individuals and not just as father and son. I feel much better about my relationship with my mom now than I did 4 years ago. The first two years after my dad died I didn't spend much time with my mom, I wasn't at home a lot and I actually left high school early and moved out of the country for a year. Since then my mother has remarried and I have had an incredibly difficult time with her partner. Just in the past 5-6 months I have really come to terms and been able to be around them both in a loving and genuinely appreciative manner. During the last four years I feel I have gotten much closer to my mom since I spent a lot of time being upset and needing to talk with her about how hard it was for me to see things change with her and her new partner.

I think that our relationship has gotten much stronger and clearer since my father passed away but I'm not sure how much of that has to do with me growing up, her remarrying or him dying. At any rate I feel very comfortable talking to my mom about most things in my life, which is something I wouldn't have expected as an adolescent. I think that subconsciously I also remember my dad a lot better when I am with my mom and so that also certainly affects our relationship.

Thanks, Kumar, for the great interview!!

For more interviews being published today, go here. For Kumar's interview of me, go here.

11/12/13

Yes, I realize that today is, in fact, 11/11/13. However, tomorrow is Olivia's sixth birthday and also Interview Project Day. Since I would rather not post twice tomorrow, I am focusing on Olivia's birthday today.

Let's flash back a bit, shall we?

First birthday - woke up ready to go!

Second birthday - screaming in fright at the rubber turtle toy in her new backpack

Third birthday - bowling party!

Fourth birthday - pony rides!

Fifth birthday - waiting to blow out her candles.

Stay tuned for sixth birthday party pictures coming next week.

Happy sixth birthday tomorrow, Olivia. 11/12/13

Seven takes about fall and kids

I'm jumping on the quick-takes bandwagon for reals this week, folks.

--- 1 ---

This fall has been so beautiful. I suppose it is the combination of weather and temps and rainfall or something, but I can't remember a fall season providing this much color all at once.

The view from my front door.

Most of the leaves have fallen, but they lasted longer than I remember in years past. I have enjoyed it so much.

--- 2 ---

This kid.

Martin charmed a whole squad full of cheerleaders at the gymnastics studio last night. They were taking a break and he ran out onto their practice mat and started flashing his dimple and doing a little dance and they all melted into a puddle of "Awwww!" He is such a stinker...he knows how to get a reaction. Such a flirt! My favorite part, though, was when he played the shy boy and ran all giggly back into my arms. My heart!

--- 3 ---

We have been experimenting with hairstyles. Olivia loved this one. And it was surprisingly easy! If it is hard to tell, that is a braid wrapped around her head, called the never-ending cornrow. I got the tutorial from here. You could also do something like this on my hair type, although it won't last as long and would require more pinning, I think. Find that example here.

--- 4 ---

Olivia loves school. And she does so well! But sometimes all of that trying hard and being good and following the rules translates to exhaustion and major meltdowns at home. She has learned to settle herself down a bit at bedtime and go to sleep on her own (which is a recent development...maybe only the last 6 months or so...she's almost six...I KNOW).

Her secret? Well, first of all, she has learned to lie still (IMAGINE!). We have found, in fact, that if she sits too still for too long in those hours after school, she will fall asleep. Car trips of any length in the late afternoon are risky.

But the other thing she is doing lately is she has been praying the Rosary at bedtime. And then, occasionally, I sneak in and take a picture of her after she has fallen asleep with the Rosary in her hand because she looks so angelic and peaceful and WHOSE CHILD IS THIS?

Oh, so sweet.

Note: Also works for calming her back to sleep after nightmares. Thanks, BVM!

--- 5 ---

Olivia lost her fifth tooth yesterday. Third in a row on top. Her first two teeth came out on Halloween and November 7th of last year (permanent teeth have since replaced those). Her fourth and fifth came out on Halloween and November 7th of this year. Weird coincidence.

All I want for Christmas is my two three front teeth.

--- 6 ---

I'm such a slacker that I never posted about Halloween. Olivia was Frankie Stein (Monster High). Martin was the Itsy Bitsy Spider. Well, on this day, at least. We do a lot of Halloween-ing at local events. Olivia kept the same costume each time. Martin changed it up a bit.

He wouldn't wear the hat.

Other costumes for Martin included the Bee...

...and the Monkey. The cuteness is too much!

--- 7 ---

November is National Adoption Awareness month. Look for my interview post on November 12th. You can find all of the interviews in this project hosted here. They'll be published at intervals throughout November.

For more Quick Takes, visit Conversion Diary!

Nine years

Nine years ago today, Joe and I got married.

We forgot to take the traditional "hands"  pose at the wedding, so we took this a couple of days later.

It has been quite a ride, but I'm quite sure I wouldn't have liked to make the journey with anyone else but you, my love.

And I just realized that someone's camera date was set wrong on this date stamp.

Photos!

We took family photos back in August, which served as Martin's one-year photos and our annual photo shoot. Here are the ones we bought. COPYRIGHTED! DO NOT CROP OUT LOGO.

Interview Project time!

Last year, I participated in the 2012 Adoption Bloggers Interview Project. I learned so much from the interview experience and from reading others' interviews. Naturally, I wanted to do it again!

Keep an eye out for my interview, to be published on November 12th. (See, now that I have broadcast that to the world, I have to get on the ball and make it happen. Accountability!) As a happy coincidence, November 12th also happens to be Olivia's 6th birthday, A.K.A. the sixth anniversary of our parenthood and adoption adventure. You can read more about that day here.

November is Adoption Awareness Month, and this is one way that we will be participating. We will also be adding extra prayers in November for adoptive parents, birth parents, and children still waiting for a family, whether internationally or domestically through the foster care system. And, I hope, we will be visiting with both kids' birth families during November. It's going to be a busy month!

Language barrier

Sweet Martin is doing all of the things he should be doing at 14-almost 15 months old. He toddles, he runs, he tries to explore every nook and cranny that is not toddler-proofed. He doesn't climb like Olivia did at this age (Praise God!), but he gets around. And he babbles. He says very little that makes actual sense and sometimes gets frustrated that I don't understand him. But he talks a lot.

My favorite is when he comes up to me and, with animated facial expressions and hand gestures, launches into a very important description of...something. If I respond with something like, "Wow, that sounds great" or some other response that makes sense to other people, he looks confused and walks away like I can't possibly communicate with him. On the other hand, when I play along he continues to tell me (in completely unidentifiable words) exactly what he thinks about...something. It goes like this.

Martin walks up and slaps my leg. I look down. "What's up buddy?"

Martin, gesturing wildly and eyes wide. "Jesh-a-blah buh. Gah BAH bebud ziz duh. Blah bee?"

Me, animatedly, "Blah bee? Blee blah blah blue blee." (I'm not nearly as creative in my gibberish as he is.)

Martin, watching me with awe and respect, nods and says in all seriousness, "Bah beezah." And then we both giggle. And he grins widely and declares, "SSSSUP!" And he runs away.

Toddlerhood, man. It is pretty sweet.

The apple

I was snacking on an apple this morning when Martin came over and demanded his portion.

Happy to oblige his desire for healthy foods, I sliced off some small pieces and put them within reach of his small hands. I failed to notice, however, that he had shoved more than one piece into his mouth at once.

Moments later, he had toddled into the living room where he sat coughing and gagging on a piece of apple caught in his throat. Apples are in that weird category of food that, right now, are easy for him to bite off but not as easy for him to chew thoroughly enough to swallow. I can usually avoid problems by giving him tiny pieces, but it doesn't help when he decides to try multiple pieces in his mouth at once.

Both of my kids have very sensitive gag reflexes, so I could see where this was going. But Martin was sitting on the edge of the rug and leaning over the laminate floor, so I figured it would be an easy clean-up.

Nope. To try to dislodge the offending piece of apple, Martin decided to stand up. He turned this way and that, and as I was rushing across the room to aim him in the right direction, he promptly threw up all over my oriental rug...mere inches from the laminate floor.

Luckily, milk and apples do not cause stains. Still, cleaning up shiny hard laminate would have been so much easier than cleaning up a fancy rug.

After this incident, Martin fussed for the appropriate amount of time in order to let me know that he was displeased with me for letting him get a piece of food lodged in the back of his throat, and then he toddled off happily and let me clean up the mess.

Moral of the story: Do not feed the baby apples. Also, try not to get too attached to things you own that are of some value. The children will do what they can to depreciate those items as quickly and disgustingly as possible.

Soccer mom

Fall is my very favorite season. It seems we are moving slowly into it with a back-and-forth of cool days and warm days. It is the season to play outside as much as possible.

This year, playing outside includes soccer season. It is our very first foray into the world of youth soccer and it has been...interesting.

Soccer is an age-group sport, not a skill-based sport. Which is a bit frustrating. Olivia is in the "under 6" group, which includes kids aged 4-6, and she is nearly a head taller than everyone else. While she has yet to perfect her skills, she definitely has them.

The most obvious of her skills is speed. This kid is fast. She gets in there and steals the ball and then breaks away and is on the other side of the field kicking on goal before half of the kids even realize what is going on. Now, if we could just improve her kicking accuracy, she'd be a rock star!

Joe is the coach of this team. We are still a little unsure about how we got roped into that. However, as much as he says he is ineffective at this age group, there is no doubt that he knows more about the sport than 90% of the adults involved. Many of the adults are learning the rules as they go, sometimes from him, even if the kids aren't really absorbing it. (Kids in the 4-year-old age range cannot be expected to remember the rules of soccer.) And Olivia is learning a lot from him. So it is fine.

Carrying her brother around at water break time.

Martin has been my spectator companion for soccer practices and games. He likes to try to walk onto the field while the kids are running drills. I try to keep him behind the net as much as possible, but he's getting to be faster than me.

Kicking the ball into the wrong side of the net.

As fast and valuable as Olivia is on the field, she also really likes to play goalie. She's so cute. She stands in the box shouting cheers to her teammates and gets all excited when she blocks a kick on goal or gets to kick the ball back into play.

So far, soccer season has been fairly enjoyable. I think we'll enjoy it even more next year, when competition is introduced and more kids are playing the game instead of kicking up dirt and picking clover.

Weekend trip

Last weekend we did a whole lot of driving and spent some time in Wisconsin visiting Joe's Grampa, who is 97 years old. You guys. That is a lot. Grampa was married 50 years to Joe's Gramma before she died, and now he's been married more than 20 years to his second wife. That kind of life experience just kind of blows my mind.

Joe's Grampa is a pretty amazing guy. He's an old farmer and can carry on a conversation about just about anything. His health has been declining a little more steadily in the past year or so, but he maintains his sense of humor and is just fun to talk to.

This was Martin's first trip to see Great Grampa, for whom he was named (Grampa's first name is Martin's middle name). They were fast friends.

Fist bump with Great-Grampa

We visit about once a year, and every trip is special because we don't know which trip will be the last one. Each time we are there, we have places we visit, including the cemetery where Joe's maternal grandparents and paternal grandmother are buried. When Joe's Grampa is gone, these trips will cease, and that will be sad because it's become something of a tradition with us. These are Joe's roots even though he didn't grow up in Wisconsin.

I hope we will have a reason to visit Wisconsin a few more times because we would miss that tradition. But most of all, we would miss visiting with this pretty incredible guy.

Joiner

I realize that I don't write here often enough, so I'm joining the 7 quick takes bandwagon for this random Friday to jot a few things down.

1. Olivia still loves school. She continues to dazzle her teacher with her ability to get along with others and follow directions and be helpful at school. She continues to befuddle her parents with her inability to do any of the above things at home. Transitions, man. They kind of suck.

2. Martin has developed an excited Pavlovian response to the appearance of any yellow bus. He thinks they are all Olivia's bus. He's excited to watch her get on in the morning and get off in the afternoon. It is adorable.

3. Speaking of Martin, he is quite the little comedian. He is just so funny. And he knows he's funny. And he gears his timing toward making himself even funnier. He may be a comic genius.

4. I kind of love school uniforms. Like, a lot. They are SO EASY. We never, ever fight about what to wear in the morning. Uniforms = da bomb

5. Also, I love our school. Catholic school, y'all. It is something else. I mean, Olivia comes home talking about what she learned in reading and math and religion. In kindergarten! I was a public school kid, so this is kind of foreign to me, but awesome.

6. In that same vein, I love that I can send Olivia on the bus and she doesn't come off with bad habits learned on the bus. Or at school, for that matter. The kids, the teachers, the bus driver...they all foster values and an attitude of respect. I know some of the kids who ride the bus she would ride if she went to public school, and based on that I'm certain that we'd be fighting some newly-learned bad habits if she were in that environment.

7. This is kind of perfect.

Kindergarten. No big thing.

So, Olivia started kindergarten on Monday. She woke up WAY early and then fell back asleep on the couch and then popped up when I said it was time to put on her uniform. Soon, she was ready to go out into the wide, wide world of big kid-dom.

I know this is something of a milestone for most kids (parents). For her, it was no big thing. She was in preschool at the same school for the past two years, all day, 2-3 days a week. She simply moved one classroom over to start kindergarten.

When we walked in, she went immediately to the lockers, found the one with her name on it, hung up her bag and went to play with the other kids. "Wait a minute, I need a picture." Sighing heavily like a teenager embarrassed by her camera-happy Mom, she obligingly moved over to stand in front of her locker for a snapshot.

She managed to put on an excited smile, though.

She was ready. Today is the third day, and she's still popping out of bed, eager to choose a uniform color and get dressed for school. (I love that, by the way. Uniforms rock. SO EASY.)

Today, I am shopping online for a sweatshirt or cardigan that is uniform-appropriate because we had some (very welcome) unseasonably cool weather this mornings. I wasn't expecting that in MID-AUGUST, but we'll take it.

We are still early in this 5-days-a-week school process, but so far it has been good. I am almost as excited about this school year as she is.

OK, family, finish with your pictures already and get out of here. It's school time!

Time's up

Summer, my friends. It is nearly at an end. At least the break-from-school part of it. School starts on Monday, so we've used this week to squeeze all of the fun that we could out of the last moments of summer break.

This week we went to Local Theme Park's Waterpark, during the day, twice. That is TWO times. That's a lot. I mean, we go several times a week, but we almost never go until after 4 p.m., when the crowds die down and the sun loses its burn-you-to-a-crisp power. I had to put sunscreen on the kids. TWICE! I hate putting sunscreen on the kids (or myself). Which is a big part of the reason why we never go until after 4 p.m.

But earlier this week we had friends coming into town...people without season passes who were paying for their day at the park and wanted to get their money's worth. So we screened up and went. And had a fabulous time. And got burnt to a crisp despite the aforementioned sunscreen. (OK, I got burnt. Olivia got a little red on her shoulders and cheeks. Martin didn't even realize we were in the sun all day. Melanin. Powerful stuff, that.)

Olivia and her friend soaking up summer.

We went back today, early again so that we could take the cousins. The kids had SUCH a good time. Martin has become quite the little waterbug. He played so hard that he just spontaneously fell asleep on my shoulder while I was talking to another mom at the pool. Poor little tired guy.

Pictured: Not yet exhausted, but getting there.

Let's see...we went to a movie this week. We went to a "back-to-school" pool party. We went "to town" to visit friends. It was an eventful week.

And now I'm exhausted!

On Monday, Olivia starts Kindergarten, which doesn't seem like a big thing since she was at preschool at the same school last year. But she was only there 3 days a week. This will be 5 days a week, every week. That is kind of huge. Right? I'm sure it will be a big transition for her. But she is ready. And I think even I'm ready. I think. Maybe.

Birthday week

Martin didn't have a birthday party, per se, for his first birthday. Because of the hectic nature of our schedules this month, we kind of had a series of mini-parties. It all began last weekend, when I stupidly bravely planned to go tent camping with my parents and sister, five hours away from home. We went to see my nieces in the world's greatest amateur circus and also to celebrate Martin's birthday with his godparents (parents to my circus-nieces). Joe had to work last weekend, so this plan was entirely my own.

The camper in the background belongs to my parents. The kids and I shared a tent with my sister on the same site.

It was...surprisingly not nearly as bad as I expected. The kids actually slept. Of course, Olivia bounced around for 2 hours past bedtime until Aunt Lori offered her some earplugs and she promptly fell fast asleep. I then declared earplugs to be the best invention ever.

So, sleep was had by all, but as is the case with camping, you never get as much sleep as you are used to getting at home. After a couple of days of this, we were all exhausted and kind of grumpy. I just...don't get camping.

Anyway, we had a little get-together at the campsite with those of us camping and godparents/cousins coming in for lunch, followed by cake and lake swimming. It was low key, easy to pull off, and everyone had a nice time.

Yeah, yeah, it's my birthday!

On Saturday, I drove 90 minutes from the campsite to pick up Martin's birthmother and then 90 minutes back so we could all enjoy circus festival parade day, followed by the circus performance. Exhausting, but worth it.

Very blurry photo of my nieces in what is called low-casting, but looks very much like flying trapeze (which they also have later in the show). Kids in this circus are all from this county, age 7-21. They are AMAZING!

Yes, that is a tight wire. Yes, those are children balancing on children balancing on a tight wire. Yes there is a net. No, they did not need to use it. No, I'm not related to any of the kids in the tight wire act. They are just amazing.

The circus was spellbinding, as usual. I am just amazed at the things these kids do. And they have this whole army of riggers (volunteers, mostly parents) who race around setting up and tearing down nets, wires, ladders, mats...everything that is used in each of these acts. And a bunch of the riggers are also spotters (those guys poised below the low-casters to catch anyone who fails to catch the bar). Spotters are used for most acts. Things like the high wire and the flying trapeze, though, have their own full nets. All of which are set up by volunteers. I just...am amazed by the coordination required to put on this "amateur" show. It is fascinating.

Sunday we were back home with Daddy, and celebrated Martin's birthday with dinner at Grammy and Grampy's. Monday we rested.

Martin's actual birthday (Tuesday) was pretty low-key. We spent some time with cousins at a local museum, put Martin down for a long afternoon nap, had all of this favorite foods for dinner with Daddy at home, then went to Local Theme Park for a couple of hours of fun. The musicians at the park's show sang happy birthday to him.

And a good time was had by all.