Autumnal delights

Chapter 1: Gold

Amber and I have been seeking and finding such natural RICHES tucked away amidst our prickly brown valley. Mother nature’s color palate is vivid and varied at this time of year. These autumnal delights speak to my soul. While we were driving home from grocery shopping on Monday, October 29th, the yellow leaves were so molten gold that I had to pull over to bask in their glow. It took three tries: Wapato–river access was blocked off, Toppenish–a sign by the river said it was Indian reservation land only, and finally Zillah–at last, a Department of Fish and Wildlife owned site. With a solid dose of perseverance, I finally found a parking area next to the beautiful trees by the Yakima River. I needed to go near the river because that’s the only place where trees grow uncultivated in our dry valley (water being a necessary commodity for plant life).

Chapter 2: Red

A week later on Monday, November 5th (today), our fall foliage exploration was more premeditated. We drove to Union Gap and parked by the Jewett Pathway/Yakima Greenway, and I pushed Amber in the stroller for a pleasant six mile jog through a surprising variety of flora and fauna. When I ran this same route back in September when the sage brush was blooming yellow, I made a mental note to come back when the leaves were changing. The run started out brown and sunny, but when we reached Sherman Park by the Arboretum, more color appeared. The vivid red leaves on the trees lining the bike path were absolutely stunning. I kept stopping and gazing up into the fiery treetops, taking pictures and admiring how the sunlight lit up the colors. I wanted to stay under that row of trees all day! My brain changed the words of Winter Wonderland to a not-so-clever “running in an autumn wonderland” and those words played over and over in my head while I drank in the beauty. But Amber got restless so I gave her a long stick to hold while we ran back through the bare brown section of trail to our car.

I brought Amber’s bike so she could get some energy out after sitting in the stroller for an hour. We have mostly gravel around our house, which is much harder to pedal on as a beginner than a smooth paved surface. After I ran, we pulled Amber’s bike out of our van and I walked alongside while she rode back up the bike path to the tiny old wooden playground almost a quarter of a mile away. Amber jumped off her bike and played for a while, climbing and swinging and asking for help on the monkey bars twice. Then we reversed course and she pedaled back to the car. Amber was quite pleased with herself for pedaling that whole way. Pavement is much easier on training wheels than bumpy rough terrain! Amber tends to look down at her feet while she pedals, so I constantly had to tell her to look ahead and stop steering off the path into the grass.

At last we arrived back at our van and drove over to Costco for some heavy duty re-stocking.

Chapter 3: Balloons

Amber got a balloon for her birthday. (I’ll write more on her birthday later.) The birthday balloon was a much-anticipated gift. Every time we went to the grocery store for the entire two months before Amber’s birthday, she asked if we could get a balloon. I always responded “wait till your birthday!” The anticipation for a balloon really got Amber excited for her birthday. As promised, Amber received a big helium-filled balloon on her birthday morning (yesterday) and her bliss was complete.

Twenty-four hours later, (today, this morning), Amber walked into the kitchen, holding her floating balloon and doing the potty dance. “Go use the potty, Amber, quick!” I told her. She handed me her balloon with a “can you hold this?” because Jay and Rose love to play with her balloon and she wanted it to be safe while she used the potty. No sooner had the balloon touched my hand than it popped in a loud sudden explosion. Amber cried “MY BALLOON!” in such a sad voice, my heart about broke. The ceiling in our kitchen has a rectangular florescent light with no cover on top. It was uncovered when we moved in, and has never been much of a problem…until Amber’s big balloon brushed against the sharp edge of the light fixture. POP!

I asked Amber if she wanted to use her birthday money to get another balloon, and she readily agreed. So this morning after our foliage run, bike ride, playground time, and Costco overload, we stopped by WinCo to get a balloon. Amber spent at least ten minutes browsing the small rack of balloon choices. She picked one and we got in line at the customer service desk. Then she went back and changed her mind three more times. At last we made it up to the desk and bought the balloon with Amber’s birthday dollars plus a 35 cent parental boost. The lady opened the balloon package and walked over to the helium tank. When she twisted the handle on the tank, nothing happened.

“Oh no, we are out of helium!” she exclaimed.

My heart sank. We had just spent twenty minutes selecting a balloon and waiting to buy it! The lady laboriously refunded Amber’s $4.30, apologized, and gave us two stickers with “I Love WinCO” written on them. Amber promptly peeled them off and stuck one on my stomach, one on hers. My feelings towards WinCo were decidedly cooler than usual, so I did not wear my sticker long. I was surprised with how well Amber was taking her second balloon loss of the day until we walked out the store exit. Amber planted her feet and said “I need my balloon!” I tried to explain to her that they didn’t have the right kind of air to put in the balloon and we needed to go to another store instead, but Amber employed all of her evasion/emotion tactics on our way across the parking lot (dash and dodge, go boneless, plant feet firmly, flail and cry, etc.). After catching her for the third time, I scooped her up and started to carry her but she started thrashing her four limbs so violently, I put her down and practically dragged her back to the car.

Now, I don’t tend to feel sympathetic with store-tantrums because kids have to learn limits and budgets. But this balloon was Amber’s number one birthday wish! And she had her own money to buy it and she had planned on buying it all day, but it was tragically ripped from her bosom not once, but twice in one day! My sympathy was awakened. I was also feeling quite tired out from my run and all of the lifting and loading involved in a Costco visit. The clock was fast approaching 1pm and I just wanted to go home and shower. But we had to find a balloon first. Back to the drawing board.

THANKFULLY, a store called Party City was just a mile or two down the road. Amber cried all the way there. She calmed down when we arrived at the next store so quickly. When we walked into Party City, we were greeted by a cheerful saleslady standing in front of an entire massive wall bursting with different balloons. It was overwhelming. When Amber pointed at a balloon she liked, I had no clue which one she was talking about. Finally I steered her towards the row of balloons that was more in her price range and she selected a balloon with several princesses on it. I was amused because the balloon she had to leave behind in a tearful wake at WinCo had Spiderman on it. Amber is a girl of many interests.

The Party City lady filled Amber’s balloon with helium and was about to hand it over when the lady at the next cash register said “you didn’t fill that full enough.” They both walked over to the helium station (which was hidden behind a tall counter) and messed around with it for longer than any four year old wanted to wait. Then I saw one of their hands reach out and grab a second balloon. They emerged a few minutes later with two identical balloons and said they couldn’t get enough helium into the first one so they filled a second one, but we could take the less-full balloon for free. Amber reached out and the balloon ribbons were in her hands at last. She would not let me tie the balloons to her wrist or help hold them when we went outside, and I was extremely concerned that she would lose them in the sky. Thankfully she kept a hold of them and we made it to the car.

The princess balloon duo ghosted around the car, obscuring my rear view mirror all the way home. An hour or two after we got home, Amber walked through the kitchen with her balloons and POP! She lost one of them to the sharp light fixture. Thank goodness for the spare!

All’s well that ends well: Amber started the day with one balloon, and she ended the day with one balloon.

Drooling teddy bear

We had such grand plans for Saturday (today). It was to be MY day. Since Amber and I share a birthday, I elected to claim the day before our birthday for my very own to give her birthday glory and space to celebrate on her birthday. My plans were simple, but decadent:

• “Sleep in” past 6:30am.
• Have a quiet hour or two in my room alone first thing in the morning before facing the demanding small humans.
• Go on a run all by myself, no stroller.
• Jeff planned to take the kids to Costco (40 minutes away) to get me a cheesecake, while I stayed home alone in the quiet house.
• Jeff planned to give me my birthday present.
• All five of us were going to attend the cross country end-of-season banquet/party at a team member’s house in the evening.

Notice a theme? All I wanted was some time to myself! Pure, uninterrupted alone time is such a rare treat.

At 5am, Amber and Rose tromped into my bedroom. Rose said “Amber just threw up a little tiny bit on her bed.” I rolled over, looked at the clock, groaned, and said “then move your pillow and sleep on the floor, and go back to bed! It’s too early to get up!” Rose often makes things sound way worse than they are, so I confess to not believing her. The girls went back to their room, but as I rarely can fall back to sleep when awoken, I was UP. I laid in bed for half an hour for good measure, but sleep did not reclaim me. So I sat up and read my scriptures in bed, then slowly unfolded myself to go join my family.

Along the way, I checked Amber’s bed and was appalled to find actual vomit in it! Poor neglected third child! Banished to the floor in a puke-scented room! I changed her sheets and was about to rinse the nasty stuff out of them in the bathtub when Amber walked into the bathroom and started barfing again. I shoved her face over the toilet and patted her back while she got it all out. Then I noticed that her undies were full of diarrhea. More clean up, clothes changing, and rinsing ensued. It was a lot to handle before breakfast, but better before than after. When the soiled items were in the washer, I sanitized my hands and the rubber gloves I had been wearing. Jeff helped Amber into clean clothes, then fetched her a bucket and propped her on the couch with cartoons, poor thing.

At this point Jeff and I looked at each other and agreed with a glance that we needed to change our plans for the day. I did get to open my birthday present and go on a run, so all was not lost, but the rest of the plans were set aside. Jeff surprised me with an extravagantly fancy-pants new Garmin Forerunner 935 GPS watch for my gift. It was so much more than I ever would have chosen for myself, and seemed like too much for a mere 32nd birthday! But I wore it on my run, and fell in love. I’ll probably never use all of its features, but it is so cool.

Matching watches. We are so unified.

After Jeff got back from his run, I strapped on my new watch and headed out on one of my favorite “safe” loops which could be 6, 8, or 10 miles, depending on where I turned. I ended up running the full ten mile loop because I love going through the orchards. It was such a good run–hillier than I remembered, but scenic, peaceful, and pleasant.

When I got my phone out to take a few pictures, I saw that my mom had called, so I called her back on speaker as I jogged along. We chatted for a few minutes on the downhill section of the loop, when suddenly a trio of dogs came running up behind me out of nowhere. I was out in the middle of nowhere by the dairies and corn fields–I had never seen dogs on that stretch of road, since there aren’t even any houses. ARG. I YELLED in fear, full-power, right into my poor mother’s ear (our call was still connected), then scrambled in my waistband for my pepper spray.

The dogs did not bark or snap or lunge, though, so I kept my canister cocked and walked for a little while, hoping they’d get bored of me and move on. But, curse it all, they loved me. Tentatively, I started jogging again, and the dogs kept up. I shouted and waved my arms at them every time they got too close. As we jogged down Maple Grove Road, the smallest dog was left behind while the bigger two kept pace with me easily. They zigzagged back and forth across the street, sometimes in front of me, sometimes behind, cutting me off repeatedly and totally stressing me out.

I was on the verge of pepper spraying the beasts just to get them to go away, but I couldn’t bring myself to spray non-threatening, non-barking, mostly-innocent, ridiculously happy dogs. “The minute they started barking, I will spray them and be done with it,” I told myself, but I let them follow me because I have learned from experience that friendly dogs can be guardian angels.

Ten years ago I was on a 15 mile run (marathon training–I don’t recommend it) whereon a friendly big dog joined me about four miles into the run. It followed me for the entire remaining 11 miles and fended off several mean dogs along the way. Eventually I realized that the dog was my own personal furry guardian angel, and I stopped telling it to go home. While I was more concerned about the toothy creatures that today’s dogs would attract than if they would protect me from said toothy creatures, the memory of my guard-dog-ian angel of yore was strong enough for me to cork my pepper spray (though I kept a death grip on it with my fist).

I felt judgmental glares from passing vehicles as the dogs trotted obliviously down the middle of the road. I wanted to hold up a sign saying “THEY AREN’T MINE!” or “PLEASE, DON’T SWERVE!” When it was time to make a left turn, I slowed down and let the dogs get ahead of me, then I stopped at the corner and waited to see if they would continue straight ahead without me. After trotting a few steps, both dogs stopped, turned around, and stood waiting for me, panting and grinning. I rolled my eyes and started running again, resigning myself to their company.

Waiting for me.

My doggy PTSD had me jumping, yelling, and practically crying every time I heard the dog’s claws clicking on the road behind me. They followed me for at least three miles, all the way home. About a mile from home, I turned onto a stretch of road that has several dogs which are usually either fenced or tied, but sometimes not (more of a yellow-alert type of corridor). Usually I can tiptoe past those houses without inciting too much canine wrath, but with my inquisitive entourage, I was a dog magnet. Our passage inspired even more frenzied barking and chasing than usual. My nerves were stretched thin. I about lost it at one house with a thick deep-voiced bulldog that was running free and gave chase to my fuzzy companions. The dogs faced off, bristling and barking while I first power walked a safe distance away, then sprinted as fast as I could, yelling in fear and glancing back repeatedly. I was exhausted both emotionally and physically when my fancy new watch beeped ten miles, so I walked it in, followed closely by the capering duo. They grinned happily up at me and my icy heart threatened to thaw. But I wanted to hate them! ARG! I was annoyed at myself and at the dogs, and especially at the dogs’ owner. If I could just make it home I won’t have to deal with them and their wet doggy grins anymore.

Stressing.

Back at home, I accessed my last shred of humanity and called the number on the dog’s collar. For the record, that involved calling the dog over to me, and then grabbing its neck while it capered around with a slobby dripping lolling tongue. The creature wiggled around so much in pleasure at human contact that it took me a while to be able to read its tag well enough to dial the number. The owner was apologetic and surprised that her dog had wandered so far. She said she’d be right over, driving a blue car. I nobly waited for the owner to come pick it up, waving wildly at more than one incorrect blue car driving past my driveway before finally flagging down the right blue vehicle.
Freedom at last.

It seems like I should be given some sort of prize for my generosity of spirit, but that probably means I don’t deserve one…

At least I got to open my birthday present and go on my run (tainted by dogs though it was), even if the rest of my birthday plans were pooped on! (all too literally) For the record, I did not share this story for birthday sympathy; I shared it to remind myself that not all dog encounters are completely traumatizing. (Although I am inclined to feel entitled to a wee smidgen of sympathy. I mean, I moved my birthday to a different day to make way for my daughter’s birthday, and then even my fake birthday plans were foiled. Clearly the universe is trying to teach me humility and selflessness. Ah well, c’est la vie. Life is good, perfect birthday or not.)

Confession: I petted the big dog before we parted. It was much softer than it looked, like a fuzzy [slobbery] teddy bear. Sigh.

A few more pictures from my run, pre-dog:

Apple box central

This is truly a land of bounty: post-harvest, every apple tree has well over a dozen apples beneath it, rotting on the ground.

Apples on one side, dry grass on the other, heading uphill–it’s way steeper in person. That’s Sunnyside waaaaay back in that grayish smudge near the horizon.

Grapes on one side, apples on the other: this long row of grapes was completely left alone with the vine leaves changing color– I’m pretty sure the grape harvest is over too. Maybe there is an agricultural reason to leave so much behind, but whew.

Since Jeff didn’t go all the way to Costco for my birthday food, he slipped off to Sunnyside’s own Burger Ranch and brought me a life-sustaining Big Ranch hamburger for lunch. And Jeff’s sister Steph made me a birthday dinner last night too, sweet thoughtful lady that she is. 32 is looking alright!

Candy Corn Confession

Halloween is OVER! Wahoo! I suppose I could write out a lengthy embellished account of the costumes, the sugar, and the other gaudy minutiae of this exhausting festivity, but I’m too happy that it’s over to want to relive it now. A few wimpy journal clips will have to do.

Before I head to the grumpy journal, I will concede to offer a positive Halloween encounter. My favorite part of Halloween this year happened in the WinCo bulk candy section. While we were grocery shopping on Monday, Amber and I decided to get some gummy eyeballs. The gummy eyeballs were white with red veins running through it to a blue center. In order to put the gummy eyeballs from the bulk barrel into a plastic bag, WinCo thoughtfully provided plastic tongs. The gummy eyeballs were all kind of stuck together in the bin, so I had to gouge at the eyeballs with the tongs. The red veins in the gummies kind of stretched and grew as I gouged and grabbed eyeballs. It was almost too gross to continue, but I persevered and was very satisfied with my Halloweeny experience in the grocery store. The eyeball gummies were awesomely gruesome and went well with the green witch finger cookies we make every year.

The other candy we chose in the WinCo bulk section was candy corn. Humans seem to be divided into two camps: Camp Candy Corn is Heavenly vs. Camp Candy Corn is the Devil’s Earwax. I have always resided firmly in Camp Candy Corn is Heavenly. When Amber and I brought home our bag of candy corns, we both snacked one down. Confession: I did not like it! I have moved from Camp Candy Corn is Heavenly all the way over to Camp Candy Corn is the Devil’s Earwax! The candy corns were so sugary they practically burned my tongue, and I found zero enjoyment in eating them. I have been trying to eat less sugar in general (nothing too extreme–Jeff and I still eat ice cream more than every other night). Mostly what I do is try to reduce or replace sugar, especially in dinner and snack recipes, so my only real sugar intake is my nightly treat (usually ice cream). I guess my sugar-editing has changed my tastebuds. Adios, candy corns! I threw them all in the trash.

Ok, now that I have mentioned one positive Halloweeny thing and confessed a serious change in candy preferences, I will move onto the bare bones journal entries about Halloween activities. I did add to them here and there so they make sense. I thought this would be a short boring post, but who am I kidding? There’s no escaping a Shaina-blog-post without at least 1200 words! Muahahaha…

Friday, October 26th: We watched Hocus Pocus for family movie night tonight. I don’t remember when I first saw that movie, but every time I’ve watched it since becoming a parent, I have been surprised at how slyly crude it is! It set my teeth on edge. Sigh, Halloween. The GOOD Halloweeny movies that we always watch are still to come: “Wallace and Gromit and the Curse of the WereRabbit” and “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown.”

Saturday, October 27th: This evening we all got our Halloween costumes on for the first time and went to our friends’ Halloween party. Jeff and I ended up dressing up as Fred and Daphne from Scooby Doo. I had to dash to Walmart at 5pm on Saturday (eek!) to find a plain white t-shirt for Jeff and pink tights for myself. I found Jeff’s shirt just fine, (although the smallest size available was large–the biggest size was 4XL–oh Walmart), but three laps around the store yielded zero luck for me. Half-heartedly, I turned to the girls’ section. Miraculously, I found a girls’ size 12-14 pink tights that reached my low hips when stretched to the max. I endured/waddled through the nerve-wrackingly low-riding waist and deep crotch sag of the 6-inches too short inseam for 90 minutes of costume time. Breezy! Thankfully we were able to cobble together the rest of our costume pieces from our wardrobes at home.

Jay dressed up as a ninja, Rose was a flying unicorn, and Amber was Wonder Woman (a Goodwill FIND) since her unicorn horn hasn’t come in the mail yet. We arrived just after 6pm at the party, survived an hour of small talk, and then came home just after 7pm. Living large! I’m in a social coma. I like my friends a lot, but the wander-and-talk party atmosphere sends me into immediate social tailspin, regardless of who’s present.

Monday, October 29th: We carved pumpkins together as a family this afternoon. Our garden produced 6 big pumpkins and 1 small one, but when we went to harvest them today, we discovered that all but 2 of them were moldy! We salvaged the least spongy of the pumpkins and managed to carve five–one each. Jeff cut the moldy section completely out of his pumpkin and made it into a low mouth. I left the mold on the back of my pumpkin and carved the opposite side. Jay and Rose claimed the two non-moldy pumpkins, which was funny because the non-moldies were much firmer, thicker, and harder to carve. Amber’s pumpkin was shriveled on the bottom, so it looked like a blob. Somehow I ended up carving both Amber’s pumpkin and mine. She wanted a kitty pumpkin. Whiskers are hard! We sprayed each carved pumpkin with bleach bathroom cleaner in hopes of delaying the decomposition. Another activity checked off our Halloween traditions-to-do list! I hope our moldy pumpkins don’t completely disintegrate before Wednesday!

Tuesday, October 30th: We made our traditional witch finger cookies this afternoon.

Wednesday, October 31st: Last night I did not sleep well, and it was a struggle to do the Halloween thing today. I’m afraid I was a tad grumpy at times (lots of times) this afternoon and evening. I took a preemptive dose of ibuprofen to head off the inevitable Halloween headache, and it was the smartest thing I did all day, apart from my attempt at a 40 minute power nap. The kids dressed up and had fun visiting the grandparents and cousins in Grandview. Amber’s unicorn headband came in the mail, so she dressed up as Wonder Woman Unicorn. We called her the WonderCorn. After half an hour in Grandview, we went straight to our ward chili dinner and trunk-or-treat, where Amber handed out candy by the handful. We ran out of candy very quickly, and Amber ate way too much of it. The evening was loud, crowded, and chaotic, but we socialized, survived, and got home by 7:15pm. Sugar is horrible. Kids in costumes are cute. I am so glad Halloween is OVER for another year!

Do I detect a glint of desperation in the adults’ eyes?

Thursday, November 1st: Today I woke up feeling socially drained. Rose and Amber woke up in towering tempers–the post-sugar hangover is monstrous. Eventually I rotated them through the potty and got some whole grain breakfast cereal into their bellies, and they calmed down. Jay woke up calm and collected, diligently practicing piano and getting ready for school with minimal reminders. Sometimes I wonder if he feels left out from all of the nagging and exasperation I expend on his sisters during the morning get-ready-routine. Before school this morning, I let the kids each pick ten pieces of Halloween candy to save, and the rest is trash. My newfound lower sugar tolerance made that an easier decision than usual.

When the school kids were safely aboard the school bus this morning, I was still in my pajamas and feeling quite worn out. After some deliberation, I cancelled on my running buddy and ran by myself instead, pushing Amber in the stroller on the bumpy canal road. Even though I felt bad for abandoning my friend, it was a good decision and helped me begin the process of recharging my maxed-out social batteries.

At first I thought my favorite part about Halloween was the gummy eyeballs, but the eyeballs will always be second to the Amber WonderCorn…

Lunch didn’t slow her down.