Backyard Camping.

It’s quiet, easily accessible, and free. Yup, it’s our very own backyard. The other night it was also our campsite. Dear Husband and I always joke that camping is less crowded and cheaper at home. Friday night, I took us up on it.

To celebrate the boys working hard on some things at home, we had a one-night campout. I didn’t want to set up our large dome tent, but used Dear Husband’s Boy Scout days tent instead. The chickens wandered, the logs crackled (in our weedy, until then neglected fire pit), the boys played.

Since Dear Husband was out of town for the night, cramming the four of us (I’m including our dog) into the tiny two-man tent was fun. When it got dark, the boys and I got inside to read by lantern light and then sleep on our air mattress and pillows. Our sweet old pup slept at our feet. I’ll admit, with all of our body heat, I woke up around midnight a bit hot, but not sweaty and the boys weren’t sweaty either. I opened up the generous windows and faded again until the early morning chill came in.

Kudos to the two-man tent. That sucker pops up (and dismantles) quickly. I didn’t even have to sweep it out, I just turned it inside out and shook. It folds down tight, stores easily, and is ready to be called upon again. Sweet, because there is this place that I know…it’s quiet…

Walking.

My best friend sent me an article last week (that her husband found) about the benefits of exercising, specifically the benefits for your brain by simply walking. I recommend the quick read. I was particularly interested in the experiment that provided “mental” stimulation but no exercise vs. the exercise only group.

When my boys get stuck in a bickering mode, I like to start fresh. I try to separate them and get them interested in something new. I forgot that when they were little and we were all cranky the usual solution was to go for a walk down our very, very long gravel driveway. The cows, flowers, pond, and occasional milk truck would dissolve our annoyances. This article reminded me of that power.

Seems not only our muscles and heart want the motion, but our brain does too. Walking is a powerful mood lifter. In fact, the term hiking comes from hill walking, something encouraged in the UK after World War I, to lift the spirits of war dampened souls. It’s as simple as putting one foot in front of the other, something we’ve done since the beginning of human existence. Linking it to good feelings may have come later, but who knows?

I took the kids walking (hiking?) last week down a dry creek bed. Our walks are different now. It’s not the powerful discovery’s of a 2-year-olds chubby fingers showing me dried corn cobs from last year’s combine harvest. Now we discuss the best NASCAR drivers or share the distinct pleasure from balancing properly across the narrow log bridge. The boys grow, the chatter changes, but still, we shall walk on.

Cicada.

It never really hit me, until this week, that the underlying hum outside is from cicadas. When I wake up in the morning, I hear a low rattle in the trees. When I hang out the clothes I hear it. Frankly, up until I shut the chicken coop at night, it’s that rattling hum in my ears still.

We’ve found the vacant shells clasping to tree trunks. We’ve found the large insects too. They aren’t troublesome, and they are very interesting to look at. But, mostly we hear their consistent rattle and hum.

Summer to Autumn.

I do not adore summer, nor lament its passing. Rather it’s a neutral season, part of the natural line up, that I must pass through on my way. Summer has its perks, it’s excellent for hanging laundry outdoors, fresh tomatoes grow in the yard (if your soil isn’t pure clay), and I don’t necessarily have to put on shoes. However, it has it’s drawbacks, a myriad of insects, plenty that bite me daily, sweltering heat, weeding, and so forth.

What I probably like more than anything about August is the promise of Autumn. The yellow leaves are starting to fall off of our black walnut trees in big wind gusts, I have to grab my short sleeve sweatshirt for my morning walk with my four-legged friend, and last night my older son came bedside claiming, “I’m cold.” All of this is lifting my sweat-dampened spirits to prepare for my favorite season, Autumn.

I cannot find one thing wrong with Autumn. Less bugs, less weeds, but laundry can still hand outdoors and yes, we still can get tomatoes. Plus there is the ever beautiful show of colorful leaves and the steady rhythm of our schooling days. The outdoors has been celebrated through the months, so I don’t feel upset if we spend an evening indoors to watch a movie while I knit. But, we still can get lost outdoors in an evening without the sweat and swarms of summer.

I know it may seem premature, but these little cool weather promises make me glide through the house. I’m in love with Autumn and it’s headed this way soon enough.

What season do you like best?

Expert Driver.

Last summer we bought a John Deere lawn tractor and attachable cart for my older son. He was eight years old. Before you freak out, let me give you a little timeline.

At 3 years old he was riding a two-wheel bike. No training wheels.

At 4 he was steering his father’s large tractor, and riding along in semi trucks, combines, and tractors.

At 7 he could dependably steer my car up and down our large figure eight driveway (in my lap).

At 8 he would ask me what things he’d need to know to pass his driving test. He decided he was mostly unsure about parallel parking.

When we purchased the tractor, he was absolutely able and willing to drive it. We had to slam the seat all the way forward, but this summer he fits just fine.

Now, when I hand him the keys to the building, he can unplug the battery from the charger, swing the hood down, hook up his trailer, and meet me in the front yard for some weed runs. He’ll then drive down to the burn pile, dump, and return. All on his own. At nine years old.

This blows my mind. I learned to ride a bike at eight years old! Seriously. Even crazier, he can accurately back up the two-wheel trailer to the spots I request. I’m thirty-six, I can’t accurately back up the trailer to anything.

If there is an “expert driver” gene, I know he got this from Dear Husband. Mr. “I-can-parallel-park-a-bus-with-a-trailer-on-a-city-street.” I’ve got pictures to prove it.

The benefit for me: I won’t have to parallel park in the city and I get to ride in the trailer to the burn pile. Gotta love that.

The First Step.

The first step is to get out of bed.

We are getting back into our school days. Dear Husband lovingly set my phone alarm and helped me wake this morning before he left.

I’m excited to start another year with the boys. I thoroughly enjoy our curricula and books. Jacques Cousteau, Grand Canyon, Mount Everest, Greek Mythology, I’m on it. Even my older son said he “doesn’t mind” school work, though we are still getting little fella over the hump on that one. However, I’m definitely going to miss my solid chunks of time in the day to tidy, do yard work, run errands, make phone calls, mow, grocery shop, and whatever else nonsense comes to the surface. Now that ALL gets squeezed into little pockets which make me stress out my load is too much.

What I have learned is that nothing is perfect. Priority and possibility chose homeschooling for us and I take that very seriously. It is the most important thing I tend to daily. The other stuff will fit. It has to. I’ve done this before. I remember.

The first step is to get out of bed.

Firsts.

The boys and I had some firsts this week.

Little fella found his very first fossil (the neighbor boy found the other). I’ve heard they are very easy to find in our area, but we haven’t had luck as of yet. He brought them in the other night and forgot to show me until the next day. I was so excited for our professed future paleontologist. I told him we need to box and label those so he can look back upon them one day as his very first find. (And if he doesn’t go the paleontologist route, hey, that’s cool too.)

My older fella finished his very first chapter book. 95 pages. Robinson Crusoe. According to him “It was fine.” I’m delighted he pressed through such a long title. He’s not the lay around and read type, so this is an accomplishment! Congrats kiddo. He’s onto a WWII choose your own adventure title next.

For me, I’m continuing on my first knitted blanket. The cabling is coming along beautifully. I’m in love with the yarn and blanket pattern.

Old dogs, new tricks. Firsts fun.

Foosball.

At a consignment sale this weekend I kept texting photos to the boys and Dear Husband.

“Does he like this coat?”

“Do they want this bow?” (That would be the type that shoots arrows, I have boys.)

“I found a Lego movie for them!”

It was actually their text message that was the best score of the weekend. Dear Husband called,

“Did you check your texts?”

“No.”

“Check it.”

I scrolled across and saw a Star Wars Foosball table loaded up in the back of his pick up truck. Total cost, $5! I called him back.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing. It’s missing a ball…”

Wow! Turned out Dear Husband trumped my lego movie by a long shot, but it’s all good. I LOVE foosball! Adore it. My brother and I played countless hours of foosball when I was my boys’ ages. Star Wars isn’t really my thing, but as foosball, heck ya. I’m in!

Dear Husband confessed to me that night, after I played many games with the boys, “They thought you would be mad about the table.”

My tidying efforts have left an impact, no doubt. I told them, I’m all for trying new, fun things, but we have to clear out some old to make room. That’s all.

So, I cleared some space in our very nice garage, brought in some chairs, even hung some magnetic darts nearby. Because it’s over 100 heat indexes outside and I’m feeling another round of Clones vs. Droids.

Growing Pumpkins.

It’s not the first time nature had a better plan than I did. I expect it’s not the last. I noticed a pumpkin in the compost bin on a routine dumping last week. Earlier this summer I saw large green leaves growing in our bin, but assumed it was squash again like last year. Instead, happily I found mini-pumpkins this time around.

Last year, I also let the squash plant be, but the chickens did not. One day it was laden with squash, the next it had all been pecked and consumed. That stunk. Naturally, I became concerned the chickens might eat the pumpkins. However, I couldn’t help but wonder how large they would get if I left them alone. I played it cool. I tried not to suggest to the chickens any pumpkins were growing. I’d look over my shoulder when they were in the compost bin pecking around to confirm the safety of the orange flesh. I would route by the bin if I needed to walk to the burn pile to check the status.

The chickens avoided the pumpkins just fine. I suppose we both learned lessons last year? Perhaps that unripe squash left a bad taste in their mouths as well? Anyhow, the vine died, one pumpkin started getting squishy, so I pulled them and put them on the back porch for exceptionally early Autumnal decor. Little fella keeps mentioning pumpkin pie.

With dried up, dead tomato plants in my garden, I’m about ready to let nature just do the compost pile surprising. Also, with the awful July heat we’ve been enduring, a little Autumnal color is welcome.

Rejection Proof by Jia Jiang.

A brief description touted a man on a quest for rejections to rise above his usual fearful response. That sounded intriguing. I started reading.

The pages started flipping quickly. I followed as Jia Jiang attacks his fears in a remarkable way, he seeks it out daily. On his journey of 100 days of rejections, including asking someone to plant a flower in their yard, asking for a job for a day, asking strangers to take money from him, and so on, he transforms.

What started out as a way to overcome his personal rejections, changed this man into a walking fear laboratory. He starts to tweak his questions and boldly asks why he got a no. Then he starts to understand where no comes from and why to never take it personally.

While this book is sold as a business guide, I must say it does a darn good lot to explain anxiety in general. It was very entertaining for me and the boys to read through and apply to our average everyday. In fact, the other day I was explaining a concept to them in the car and the next day my older son said, “Mom, you’ll never believe this. When my friend didn’t want to play racing, I used the idea from the book and it worked. He said okay.” (Don’t worry, it’s not mind manipulation or anything.)

I bet children get told no more than anyone else. Whatever my boys picked up from this title will be valuable for life.

I seriously encourage you to check out his entertaining website complete with the 100 days of rejection he filmed along the way. The boys and I enjoyed his inspiring journey.

(Blogging for Books provided this title in exchange for an honest review.)