uncomfort zone

I am out of my comfort zone. I was coaxed here, into the uncomfort zone, by love. My love for my husband, children, and extended family. So ... here I am, sleeping in a bunkbed, listening for mosquitoes, which I can still hear in spite of the alternating and nearly identical snoring of my husband in the top bunk and his brother in the next room. Just as I think I am ready to doze off, I hear the distinct buzzing of an insect intent on sucking my life's blood from me, and I spring into defensive action. I turn on my iPhone Flashlight App, grope around to find my glasses and search the coffin-like landscape of the lower bunk. BAM!!! Got him. Or her. Doesn't matter. I close my eyes, lulled into slumber by the now snoring-in-unison brothers.

Some people love "roughing it" -- oh, the joys, of communing with nature, lugging all your stuff and food and trash and children and pillows and sleeping bags and contact lens solution through dust and dirt and then "relaxing" out of sheer exhaustion before it's time to cook food and clean-up and hide all the food because the mice might visit during the night. Granted, we are not in tents, and we have plumbing, so this is not "camping." But this is as close to camping as I like to get. We've been here before, so I know what to expect -- tap water that smells like sulfur, the aforementioned blood-thirsty insects, various and sundry rodents, the occasional bat, no TV, and generally feeling dirty (not that kind of dirty) and feeling dirty again (not that kind of dirty) almost as soon as you've taken a shower in the sulphury smelling water. Did I mention there's no TV?

"Who wants to go on a hike?" says Cindy, my
sister-in-law and ringleader of all things fun. She is a big reason why I am in the uncomfort zone. She has a way of getting me to do things I would not otherwise do. I think there is magic or hypnosis involved, but I have not figured it out yet. We all fall in line, the glorious sun beating down on us. We are on Decatur Island, one of the San Juan Islands, and the scenery is just beautiful. From the sea star in the tidepools, to the vast expanse of water surrounding us, everything looks like it belongs on a postcard.

Although my husband and his siblings have all been here on different occasions, this is the first time all five of them have been here together. With the adults' work schedules and the kids' summer schedules, it was a small miracle that they all managed to get themselves here to this tiny island. We snap several photos of them, all together, and I think to myself that their parents are probably looking down on us, approving and proud of the family they raised, their children, now parents themselves.

Which brings me to another thing I knew to expect on this trip: family memories. Catching crab. Eating crab. Building a fire. Roasting marshmallows. Eating s'mores. Collecting rocks. Playing board games. Playing tennis. Playing basketball. Walking along the beach. Talking. Listening. Just being. Together.

And isn't that, really, what family vacations are all about?

By the fourth night, our last night in Decatur, I find myself strangely comfortable here. I'm going to miss this place.

summertime

It has taken us over a month, but we finally feel like we are on vacation. With the kids' activities, the past few weeks have been a whirlwind of running around and generally not relaxing. On the plus side, both of my kids (and I) had incredibly rewarding and fulfilling experiences these past couple of weeks. My son participated in a program called FACES for the Future in Oakland, where he learned about public health and health professions, and had to get "dressed up" everyday (i.e., no jeans, collared shirt, decent shoes) -- and did it willingly, on time, waiting for my husband or I to hurry up and get ready to make sure he wasn't late. It was a welcome role reversal from the usual parental refrain of are-you-ready-to-go-yet-and-do-you-have-everything-you-need-hurry-up-we-are-going-to-be-late. My daughter led the first two weeks of art classes for the TRUST summer youth camp in West Oakland sponsored by the Oakland Unified School District Police Department, teaching arts and crafts to children five to twelve years old -- an ambitious task for a thirteen year old, but she did a great job. It was wonderful to see her in action and to watch the kids taking direction (most of the time), turning the materials she provided into creations that reflected each child's interests and personality. For me, it was surprisingly fulfilling to just sit back and observe these teenagers -- my babies -- growing into their own.

And, now, at last ... time to do some summertime chillaxin'. I'll leave you with a current picture, and a flashback post: the pyro family. Time to go create some more family memories.

Happy vacation, everyone!