Grover and Capitol Reef (June 7–9)

We left the Grand Canyon around noon, stopping in Kanab around 3:30 for our traditional lunch of peanut butter and jam sandwiches, as well as a quick grocery run so we could eat while we were at Grover.

Here are the kids enjoying their food:

Notre-Dame and notre dôme*

I'm reading Notre-Dame de Paris right now. I've never read Victor Hugo before but I figured that since Miriam read both Notre-Dame and Les Mis this year, I could probably also handle Victor Hugo...in book form. I don't think I could handle Victor Hugo in real life because he was...kind of a terrible person. Like Johnny Cash. Guys, I'm sorry, I watched Walk the Line when it came out years ago (I am not sure why because I wasn't quite sure who Johnny Cash even was) and I left that movie hating Johnny Cash. I don't know if that was the point of the movie but, uh, that was where the movie led me. Anyway, while I don't think watching a movie of Victor Hugo's life would elicit good feelings towards him, I do like his writing so far.

From "The Great Hall": 'I tell you, monsieur, it's the end of the world. The students' behaviour has never been so outrageous. It's all everything. Artillery, serpentines, bombards, and especially printing, that other plague from Germany. It's the end of manuscripts, the end of books! Printing is killing off the book trade. The end of the world is at hand!"

Spoiler: Books have survived. So rest easy, dear reader.

Lake Lanier

Last night I got to get out by myself! I went (via carpool, of course) up to Lake Lanier for our RS campout dinner. I didn't spend the night because I'm really not sure Alexander and Andrew are ready for the emotional trauma that will entail, but I did skip bedtime.

It was a beautiful area and was such a lovely evening. I brought a sweater—because it's the end of September and I knew I'd be out late—but didn't even need to put it on! And to think it snowed in High River (and much of the surrounding area) today! Living in the south has its perks!

Calf Creek

I haven't hiked Calf Creek since 2005 (when I went camping in Grover with Andrew's family while he was still on his mission (not at all awkward; it's fine)). Ever since then I've just hung out at the cabin with the babies while Andrew's gone off hiking. This year, however, we decided to lug the baby out there (leaving Zoë behind with Grandma). 

We borrowed a hiking backpack from a friend because we imagined, from the comfort of our air conditioned home, that it would be "fun" to take both Zoë and Alexander on a hike or two with the big kids. But to do that we'd need two hiking backpacks (because Zoë is a bit of a whiner/three-year-old and we wouldn't be able to make her hike more than a mile). Even though we decided to only take Alexander to Calf Creek (because the hike is a little brutal, especially the hike back to the parking lot) we used our friend's backpack because it came with a sunshade and a pocket for a water reservoir/bladder/thing. In fact, I was so impressed with the backpack that the girls suggested we get a new backpack (since ours is rather ancient). 

I told them that our backpack was a wonderful backpack, that it had served us well for years, and that we weren't really in the market for a new hiking backpack since Alexander is the intended caboose of our little train. Getting a new backpack at this stage in the game would be somewhat pointless.

Anyway, we loaded Alexander into the backpack, which I wore for the descent, and we headed off into the rather desolate-looking landscape.

The faces of Grover

We just got back from Grover and, boy, do I have stories to tell! It is rather late, however, so in following Elder Eyring's advice to never miss a day, "no matter how tired I [am] or how early I ... have to start the next day," I'm going to go ahead and post a little bit today (and I know I didn't technically write while we were camping, but I did take notes and that's just about the same thing).

Grover is heaven for mess-loving children like mine. There's rocks, there's sticks, there's dirt. There's sticky treats and sweaty feet and sappy trees and a dusty breeze and...all things dirty. 

And they love it. 

While my older girls have somewhat outgrown little kid messes and managed to survive the entire trip looking somewhat glamorous, their younger siblings did not fare so well. In fact, they're well-practiced, rather accomplished mess-makers.

Here are Miriam and Rachel, looking fabulous (in spite of having boycotted both showers and hairbrushes for the week):

 

Cook out

When we went hiking on Saturday, Benjamin asked if we could sleep outside.

"Not tonight," Andrew told him.

"Why not?" he asked.

"There's still snow on the ground, friend."

"Oh," he said, rather disappointed. "But when it's Unofficial Sleep Outside Day can we?"

"Sure?" Andrew answered after a moment's hesitation because...who ever heard of Unofficial Sleep Outside Day? 

I have a feeling Unofficial Sleep Outside Day will be celebrated soon because (even though we're due for another snowstorm this weekend) it's been rather lovely out. In spite of not getting to sleep in a tent, Benjamin did get to go for a hike and then we had a little cookout on Grandma's new fire pit!

Do not be fooled by their facial expressions; they were all thrilled to be grilling their own hot dogs. I'm not sure why they all look so grumpy here:

More hiking (April 4/5)

I know we got back from camping more than two weeks ago, but in a way this is a timely post because it's all about the Kids in the Parks trail that we did (over and over again) and today we got our Kids in the Parks perk pack in the mail, which the kids were rather excited about. They each got a certificate and a little passport with a sticker for Carolina Beach State Park. They're pretty happy about it.

We ended up doing the hike five times in total. I took the kids on it one-way the first day we camped. After we got back from the beach on the second day I took them on it two-ways (out and back in) while Andrew stayed at the cabin to do some writing (when dissertation deadlines are looming there's really not such thing as a "vacation"). 

Here's a picture of Zoë as we're leaving our campsite:

She picked out that headband herself and was so proud of it.

Numma-numma my nut!

I will write more about the beach later, but I have 530 pictures to sift through (I might have a real problem) in order to do that, so this post will have to suffice for now. 

One of our (mine and Andrew's) favourite parts of the beach was when the older kids were out jumping in the waves and Zoë, who wasn't a huge fan of the ocean this trip, was playing at the sand by our feet when she decided she was hungry and needed a snack.

She chose trail mix.

Andrew was helping her eat it and she thought it was delicious. She really likes nuts but soon discovered that M&Ms are pretty great, too, and began picking those out to eat first. But she was more than happy to eat the raisins and nuts as well. He was dumping out a small handful for her at a time, and she'd pick at it, happily munching away while seagulls enviously circled around her, as if they instinctively knew that toddlers are the most likely kind of human to drop food.



And then, just as they'd been expecting, she dropped a nut.

A thunderstorm and a black eye

When we were deciding where and how to take the kids camping over spring break, I remembered that a few cabins had recently been built at Carolina Beach State Park. Some friends of ours had stayed in them last summer and said they were great—air conditioning, electricity, real beds, and really not that much more expensive than booking a tent site.

Camping with small children in tow can be...taxing...so we decided to give the cabins a try and I'm so glad we did! It has be pouring for hours and hours now—thundering and lightning(ing), too—and though our tent is decent I'm not sure how it would have held up (or how we would have held up inside it).

We knew a storm was coming—we had seen it rolling in while we were out hiking—but we didn't expect it to be quite this stormy! It sprinkled a bit while we were doing dinner and s'mores, but had mostly stopped when the kids and I trekked up to the bathhouse to brush our teeth.

That's one of the downsides of staying in the cabin. You can't choose a cabin close to the bathhouse because they're all equally far from the bathhouse. The last time we camped here we stayed in a tent right next to the water spigot and the path leading up to the bathhouse, which was very convenient.
The walk to the bathhouse from the cabins isn't terrible, but it takes a few minutes—350 steps or so, depending on how far your little legs can carry you (so approximately a 3.5 minute walk, according to this chart).

It was getting rather dark and we'd just had to chase off a racoon, so the kids were skittish already. It was difficult to walk to the bathhouse with them all clinging to me, while I was trying to aim the flashlight so we wouldn't trip on any roots or what have you.

Flytrap trail (and another hike)

I completely forgot, when planning our itinerary, that all state parks are closed on Monday. We were due to arrive at Carolina Beach a little earlier than our check-in time, so I suggested that we just head straight to Fort Fisher and do some exploring there before heading to the campground.

But when I searched for the address, Google informed me that it was closed today.

So instead we went straight to the campground and managed to check in a little early (even if we hadn't we still could have gone hiking, but it was nice to get to unload half the van before hiking).

We decided on the Flytrap Trail. "A pleasant, wheelchair-accessible, half-mile loop through pocosin wetlands and drier longleaf pine and wiregrass savanna communities" sounded about perfect for our two-year-old.

Ward campout

Miriam was so excited about the ward campout that she wrote a note to take to school, explaining that she'd need to be a car rider. I signed off on it at the bottom to make it all official (you never can tell).

Anderson Reunion, day 2 (July 11)

We didn't have the best sleep in the cabin, but I suppose that's to be expected. We were camping, after all. Here were our sleeping arrangements:

Anderson Reunion, day 1 (July 10)

Five years ago I attended my first Anderson family reunion. It was fun to meet many of Andrew's aunts and uncles and cousins that I hadn't met before and to get to know better the ones I'd already met. It was also a little uncomfortable for me since I'm...well, I'm an introvert. Trying to get to know so many people (Karen comes from a family of eight children, most of whom had several children, many of which have several children of their own) at once was a little overwhelming, but it's also so very important to me to know Andrew's family.

When I think of Genesis 2:24 (Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife: and they shall be one flesh) and becoming "one flesh" I think part of that is not only learning to rely on each other (rather than on your parents) but also accepting your spouse's family as your own.

It was interesting to see the change of heart I've had in five years. Whereas five years ago I still felt a bit like an outsider, this summer I was excited to get to visit with cousins we hadn't seen in years. We've had so many changes to our family the past five years. Aunt Susan passed away; several cousins (including two of Andrew's siblings) have gotten married, adding new in-laws; a few cousins have gotten divorced; and many, many babies have been born (five more grandkids for Reid and Karen, alone). And I feel like I'm a part of it all.

Because I am.

Because Andrew's part of it and our children are a part of it, I'm part of it (even if I'm not flesh-and-blood Anderson). And because I'm a part of it I think I should be fully invested in it, and so I am, and I can honestly say that while I might have been shy about meeting this crew five years ago, I now love them all so much and was so happy to get together with them!

Anyway, the first day of the reunion was for George and Delsa's progeny—Karen and her siblings and their children and grandchildren. Everyone from our little family was there (except for Uncle Cory because he had to work); everyone from Uncle Clark's family was there (except for a few husbands who had to work); Aunt Linda and Uncle Trevor were there (it was Uncle Trevor's first trip after the accident that left him paralyzed); and Aunt Dorothy and Uncle Raymond were there with several of their children and their families.

Rachel found a moth while we were setting up tables and chairs. It wasn't able to fly very well so she carried it around for quite a while.

In which Zoë isn't completely unimpressed

Zoë was sitting on my lap on Saturday afternoon and decided that cooing and smiling might, in fact, be interesting. So she gave it a go.

Are you ready for way too many pictures of her not grimacing at the world? Because I took lots.

All is well! All is well!

Before zipping ourselves into our sleeping bags last Monday night, we checked the weather forecast, which said Tuesday was going to be a rainy, rainy day. We'd already been rained on several times and our tent did a wonderful job of keeping us dry but we didn't really want to pack up in the rain so we planned ahead and set our alarm for 7:00 AM. The forecast called for rain at 9:00 AM.

At 6:00 AM I heard the first few drops of rain hit our tent and soon it was raining furiously, with no hint of ever letting up.

I couldn't sleep so I got up and started packing what I could, but only after taking pictures of my sweet sleeping children. Poor Miriam had been booted out of her bed by Rachel and was sleeping on the floor of the tent. It reminded me of the song There Were Ten in the Bed only in this instance it was the big one who said "Roll over!" and the little one who fell out!

Sunday Afternoon

It was raining cats and dogs by the time church got out. Benjamin had been running wild for most of Relief Society so I eventually moved into the hall with him where I found a nice comfy chair and wrestled with him until he gave up and fell asleep. That was about five minutes before classes started pouring into the hallways.

"Oh, that is the worst!" a woman said to me with pity when she came out of Relief Society. "That's like when you're on a long drive and your baby falls asleep five minutes before you pull into the driveway. Then you just have to wake them up to bring them into the house and then they figure they've had a nap so there's no sense in taking another one."

That woman certainly knew what she was talking about. And it really was about as bad as that. Benjamin woke up on the way to the car, of course, since he felt like he was suddenly thrown from a comfortable bed into a cold shower. As predicted, Benjamin woke up with even more energy than he'd fallen asleep with.

Andrew was feeling so sick (once upon a time (on Saturday) we had bagels and muffins for lunch—the kids and I were eating bits off bagels when I noticed some mold and began eating with more caution. Andrew, however, had scarfed a muffin, which he admitted tasted a little off after I discovered the mold, and was having some food poisoning symptoms). He wanted nothing better than to take a long nap.

But we were in the middle of a torrential downpour! We couldn't go back to camp! Going back to camp would mean being stuck in a tent with a riled up toddler for the entire afternoon. That simply wasn’t going to promote family unity so we determined we’d revisit the nearby church history sites.

Let the church history tour begin!

I'm a Mormon. My husband is Mormon. Our children are...wait for it...Mormons!

For our summer vacation we're doing a church history tour in Upstate (Western?) New York. Things are about to get pretty Mormon-y on the blog. Consider yourself duly warned. And, by all means, enjoy!

Before embarking on our journey I combed through my family tree to see if I had any relatives from New York. I know that I say that I feel rather Canadian but the truth is that my roots are very American. I've got them all: Pilgrim Americans, Americans-for-generations, moonshiners from the deep south, abolitionists from the north. I come from good (and sometimes not-so-good) American stock.

But I'm also a third-generation Canadian, so I'm totally justified in feeling Canadian since Andrew is only a third generation American (on one side) and he feels pretty American.

Anyway, I dug up some ancestors from the area. Naturally. This time on the Conrad side.

The ancestor I found was Joshua Conrad, who was born in Pennsylvania in 1775 and died in Waterloo (which is a village within Fayette (I think?)) in 1828. He had a son named Charles Ferdinand Conrad who, along with his wife, Sarah Adams Bitely, was our first ancestor (on that side) to join the church (though I believe they joined in Michigan...). Charles Ferdinand Conrad is my third-great-grandfather.

He had a sister named Sarah Heller Conrad and she is the ancestor of interest here (though, I mean, I am grateful to Charles Ferdinand for joining the church, even though he later left the church. His wife Sarah eventually travelled to Utah without him and it seems her children came with her because my Conrad line continues in Utah (for a while)).

Our first stop in our church history tour (and last stop of the day before finally getting to Palmyra yesterday) was the Peter Whitmer Farm in Fayette.

Watkins Glen

Even though we had warm comfortable beds to sleep in last night Benjamin was determined to stay up as late as possible, so it was a fairly rough night for me. 

Andrew fell asleep before anyone, probably. I put the girls to bed in the other room but then Rachel wandered back into the room Andrew, Benjamin, and I were in so she could read beside me while I helped Benjamin fall asleep. There wasn't room for Andrew, Benjamin, and me on the bed (it was a full bed) so I put Benjamin to sleep on the floor (because he was not going to sleep in the pack'n'play). Rachel eventually fell asleep beside him and Andrew was sprawled out all over our bed, so I did what any logical person would do. I scooped up Benjamin and climbed into bed with Miriam. 

Our night was still filled with plenty of tossing and turning and middle-of-the-night potty runs (Benjamin's been waking up and fussing when he needs to go potty instead of going in his diaper, which is both good and bad depending on whether I want to get up and take him potty or not (some nights it's just harder to get out of bed than others)) but I woke up feeling relatively awake.

Jenny's mom made pancakes for us in the morning, which our girls thought was amazing. Pancakes are a dinner staple at our house. We rarely have them for breakfast. 

We headed out only 45 minutes behind schedule and I can't tell you much about the drive because both Benjamin and I fell asleep soon after we got in the car. I can tell you that when we woke up we were in some kind of "targeted enforcement area" and there were big yellow warning signs every half mile (or something ridiculous like that). 

"Buckle up next million miles," we were told in bold letters.

"High DUI crash zone," we were informed.

"Beware aggressive drivers," the signs said. "Keep alert."

"Where are we?" I wondered. "And why does no one seem to know how to drive?"

The signs went on and on. It seemed as though we'd barely pass one sign when another one was ready to tell us what to do. Slow down. Be courteous. Keep a safe following distance. 

"These signs are getting awfully naggish," Andrew said. "What's next—'Change your underwear?'"

The kids thought that was pretty funny. I was happy to leave all those signs behind us when we got to the part of New York where people apparently know how to drive. 

Sense(less) of Direction

Rachel experienced some gastrointestinal distress while we were camping. I'm not sure what caused it, precisely, but I did hear her muttering to herself on one of her many trips to the bathhouse, "I shouldn't have had that seventh s'more..."

I had my hands too full of keeping Benjamin from diving into the fire pit to enforce dessert limits.

Honestly, I've never really been one to enforce dessert limits at all. Nature is often a better teacher than I am and it beautifully—if painfully—managed to teach Rachel why you should only ever eat six s'mores in one go and never seven without my saying anything.

As often as Rachel went to the bathroom you'd think she'd have been able to remember where it was—proximity to restrooms is one of my top criteria when selecting a campsite so we were pretty close to it—but every single time she got up to go to the bathroom she'd stalk off in completely the wrong direction.

"Where are you going?" I would ask her.

"To the bathroom," she'd say. "Don't you remember? I just said I had to go..."

"It's over there," I'd say, pointing her in the right direction.

Probably around the fifth time this happened I turned to Andrew and said, "I guess she inherited my sense of direction."

He laughed because I am hopeless. In fact, I'm pretty sure I was born without a sense of direction.

He's always quizzing me in the car: "Do you know where we are?"

Usually I don't. I still rely heavily on Ginny, our GPS, to get me anywhere. I don't know what people did before them. I, for one, probably would have spent a lot more time lost and crying than I do in this blessed age. Also, I can't wait for cars that drive themselves. Yes, please!

Anyway, Miriam ate only a manageable number of s'mores and didn't end up with a tummy ache so she should have been less familiar of the whereabouts of the bathroom than Rachel was. She asked if she could go to the bathroom and I told her that she could. We could see the bathhouse from our campsite so I was willing to let her go on her own but Rachel, ever needful of the toilet, quickly volunteered to go with her.

"I'll go with you!" she said eagerly.

"Alright! Let's go!" Miriam agreed.

Then they split up and ran off in opposite directions. Miriam immediately hopped on the path leading to the bathhouse while Rachel dashed off into a grove of trees separating our campsite from our neighbours.

"Looks like Miriam inherited my sense of direction," Andrew laughed with superiority.

Falls Lake

After packing up camp yesterday morning we headed to the lake for some swimming. The beach was still open despite high waters—and, indeed, the water was very high. When we pulled into the parking lot Andrew said, "That's a weird beach—it's a grass beach!"