Family

A Thoroughly Enjoyable Day

Yesterday was the kind of day that, at the very beginning of my marriage, I thought we’d be having all the time once our kids were about this age. (That sentence is kind of hard to parse. Read it a few times until it makes sense.) It wasn’t a spectacularly exciting day, or expensive or complicated, it was just…fun.

Slight tangent: there is a family that goes to our church that is seriously Little-House-On-The-Prairie homesteading old fashioned. They are very nice. They have something like eight or nine kids, and Elizabeth has bonded with one of the girls, and two of the boys are pretty close to Luke’s age (one a little younger and one a little older). I’d mentioned to the mom and dad how disappointed Luke was that his trip to camp didn’t include a visit to the gold mine, and that I planned to take him to see it myself. They told me that they homeschool all of their children, and that they are planning an educational field trip up to Julian as soon as school starts (so they can get school credits for it), and that they plan to visit the gold mine, the museum, the old historic jail, the old cemetery…all the stuff that Luke would go absolutely wild over. So OBVIOUSLY I invited myself and my kids along for that trip. And also I am seriously considering having them homeschool Luke and Elizabeth along with their kids.

But I didn’t want to make Luke wait another month for his first gold mine experience, so I hopped back online to see what else we could find in the meantime, and I discovered The Smith Ranch. As soon as I saw that there was a ride on an old narrow-gauge mining train involved, I knew this was what I was looking for. Luke has been crazy about trains pretty much his whole life. I made reservations for the following Monday.

The homesteading family — lets call them the Ingalls since they’ve requested that I not use their real name on the Internet — had mentioned a nice park in Julian that they planned to stop at for lunch on their field-trip day, so I looked it up and figured I’d add that into Monday’s trip too.

So yesterday me and the kids packed a picnic lunch and drove up to Julian. The park was a bit farther off the beaten path than I’d expected, but we found it with no problem. And then…somehow I managed to lock my keys in my car while filling out the parking fee ticket stub for the front window.

On a family trip with Steve that might have been enough to sour the whole day right there, but yesterday it was one of the little things that are not worth sweating. My one concern was that we might not make it to the Smith Ranch in time for the mine tour, but my spidey-sense (I don’t know what else to call it but I’ve come to trust it over the past 15 months) was telling me that everything would be fine, so I sent Luke and Elizabeth and the lunch-filled cooler off to frolic on the playground together while I examined my options. I found a park employee with a Slim-Jim, but my door locks would not bend to his will, so I called AAA and as it happened there was a AAA assistance place thingie just seven miles up the road and there was already a truck headed in my direction on another call and maybe 15 minutes after I phoned for help my door was unlocked and I was good to go.

I didn’t have time to explore the park with the kids, but we got to the ranch right on time and still in fine spirits.

The Smith Ranch? Is awesome. The guy who owns it used to be a high school teacher and he obviously knows how to connect with kids. He was in constant teaching mode but in the best possible way. There was only us and one other couple there, so Luke and Elizabeth got most of his attention and he really drew them into the historical setting.

The tour began with the train ride:

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It stopped several times at various points of interest, like this pear tree that was planted in the 1840’s by the miners that had originally settled the claim:

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One of the stops was at a little fort the family is constructing from trees that have died in the drought. Teacher Guy asked Luke to help him raise the flag there:

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There were old 1800’s-era artifacts all over the place.

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Eventually the train pulled up at the mineshaft entrance, and guests were given the option of walking in or riding in an ore cart. The kids chose the ore cart, the rest of us walked.

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The mine itself is still in the process of being re-excavated after having been filled with dirt at some point before the current owners moved in. It only goes back about 40 feet right now, but that’s deep enough to be pitch-black and cold…you really get a sense of being underground. But what I enjoyed most wasn’t the mine itself, it was the way Teacher Guy (and his wife, when she joined us as we were coming back out of the shaft) wove a steady stream of verbal imagery that vividly brought that period of history to life for us.

After we left the mine we were brought to an old sluicing trough with crushed quartz and sand and water and a few gold-painted pebbles in it. They showed us how to pan for the “gold,” and we all had fun trying our hand at that. Then they opened up their little “general store,” which was fascinating because it was full of more pioneer artifacts, and we got to trade the “nuggets” we’d found for stick candy and red licorice. We adults enjoyed the panning (and the candy!), but Luke and Elizabeth were MESMERIZED by the whole concept. They stayed at it long after the rest of us had wandered off.

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Later we all got to cross a shallow gully on the kind of rope bridge the old settlers used to make…

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…and then we sat down in a shady spot while Teacher Guy and his wife showed us more artifacts and told us the stories behind them. I know it probably sounds dry and boring, but it wasn’t at all. Even the kids were hanging on their every word.

They had a reproduction of a letter that a Great-Great-Uncle of the wife had written during that time period, and apparently back then sending letters was seriously expensive business because the writer had gone to great lengths to conserve paper and postage and this letter had still cost him $5 to mail — one-third of a month’s pay for him! And look at the tricks he’d used:

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He not only used both sides of the paper, he actually used each side TWICE — once writing vertically and again writing horizontally. And he left a little blank square on one side, where he wrote the mailing address after he’d folded the letter to create its own envelope.

Mrs. Teacher read us part of the letter, and it was very entertaining.

The whole experience, the whole afternoon, was relaxed and fun and educational and awesome. I was so glad we’d gone.

Julian was settled as a gold rush town, but what it’s most famous for nowadays is its pies. The whole town is full of fruit trees, mostly apple, and the Julian Pie Company uses nothing but locally grown fruit. We stopped there on the way home and picked up a dutch apple pie.

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It was scrumptious.

So that was our first family trip to Julian, and definitely not the last; I think there’s enough historical stuff up there to keep Luke hooked for quite a while. I’m really looking forward to our field trip with the Ingalls next month.

The funny thing is, Steve used to go up there all the time during our marriage, and he made it a point never to let me or the kids go with him. (And now I know why, but that’s another subject.) How ironic is it that we had to ditch the cowboy before Luke got to explore a fascinating, historical Old West town only 60 miles from home?

Tomorrow the kids have a playdate at the Ingalls homestead, and Mrs. Ingalls and I will be discussing the possibility of having Luke and Elizabeth homeschooled with her brood. I’d have to clear it with Steve, but he knows as well as I do what a crappy school Hamilton is.

It’s breathtaking, how fast the changes are coming these days. I wonder what our lives will look like a year from now, or five years from now.

I’m looking forward to finding out.

Categories: Family, Friends, kids, Life, Love, School | 3 Comments

Camp Wynola and Child Angst

On my way home from the POP thing yesterday, Michelle called my cell to let me know that Luke and Elizabeth were safe and sound at her house. They had just returned from camp. I asked to speak to them.

“The first five days I was thinking I wanted to go back again next year,” Elizabeth’s voice chirped in my ear. “The last day I was thinking I never wanted to go back again!”

“Oh! Why?” I asked.

“BECAUSE I MISSED YOU SO MUCH!!”

That night as she was taking her bath she kept calling me in to tell me stuff about camp, so finally I just got comfy on the bathroom floor and let her chatter away. This is unusual behavior for my taciturn girl, so I enjoyed the heck out listening to her talk and talk.

Her camera had literally hundreds of pics on it.

[EDIT: Most of the images I originally posted here have been removed, in consideration for parents who may not want pics of their kids posted on my blog. There was only one other girl shown that I had previously been given permission to feature here, so it seems safest to remove the rest.]

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That blue thing she’s holding in that first pic is a Pokémon named Dialga. One of these days I will post another entry of Camp Wynola as seen by Dialga.

Elizabeth had a grand time.

Luke had a different experience.

When I first picked him up from Michelle’s he was quiet, subdued. “They didn’t take us to the gold mine,” he told me. “They didn’t mention it at all.”

The gold mine had been Luke’s primary reason for wanting to go to Camp Wynola.

He said he hadn’t gotten along with his cabinmates, so they’d moved him to a different cabin, but the boys there were no better and also made gross fart jokes.

“That’s what boys do,” I told him. “You’re a boy too, you’re supposed to think fart jokes are hilarious.”

“Well they’re not, they’re just gross.”

“You should try to be more agreeable with people. The world’s full of all different kinds of people, you shouldn’t expect everyone to behave a certain way. Just go with the flow now and then.”

As the afternoon progressed Luke went from subdued to irritable to actively antagonistic. Nothing I said or did seemed to help.

This morning I reminded them that Steve was going to call around 9am so that they go go see him. Luke said he didn’t want to go. He was acting more hostile than ever, and I thought maybe this black mood was connected to Steve somehow. So I sat them both down and told them that this was an important visit for them. Now was the time for them to talk to their dad about how they felt about spending every other weekend with him, while he was still in a listening frame of mind. I encouraged them to have a real, honest-to-goodness conversation with him and make their own feelings and needs known.

They were at Steve’s house for a long time, several hours. While they were gone I suddenly realized that there was something tangible I could do for Luke. I hopped online, looked up the gold mine in Julian and learned that it’s open daily for public tours. Problem solved.

When Luke and Elizabeth came home they were talking about Steve’s new Pacman game and the new bike he’d promised to buy for Elizabeth and the upcoming trip to Knott’s for Luke’s birthday. Apparently Steve is back in Dad Mode. I can’t help but wonder how long it will last this time.

There was a subtle shift in both kids’ behavior after the visit, an undercurrent of something faintly negative toward me. I was at a loss. I told Luke about my idea to go to the Julian gold mine, just the three of us, and he got very excited and then angry at me because we can’t go, like, tomorrow. I did not know what to do or say or even what the real problem was.

Later I wandered into Luke’s room where he was recreating the dump scene from The Brave Little Toaster with scotch tape-and-construction-paper models. He was distant, uninterested in conversation. I flopped down on his bed and just watched him play.

At one point he took out his pocketknife and began sharpening a colored pencil with short, steady strokes of the blade. I’d never seen him do that before, and I was suddenly reminded of watching my father sharpen pencils that way when I was a kid.

“We have pencil sharpeners,” I commented.

“This is the way my dad sharpens pencils,” he said, and there was a faint but unmistakeable note of warmth in the way he said “my dad.”

If Steve makes them love him and then loses interest in them again he will be officially not human.

Later tonight we watched an episode of Star Trek and the kids sat uncomfortably far away from me.

Halfway through the show something clicked in my head.

When the episode was over I had a longish talk with the kids. I explained to them that even though their dad and I see the world in very different ways and will probably never be friends again, that has nothing to do with our relationships with them. They must never feel like they have to choose between us, that they can only love and be loyal to one of us. Love doesn’t work that way: there’s always enough to go around. I assured them that they aren’t being disloyal to me by loving their dad, and they aren’t being disloyal to him by loving me. There are no “sides” here as far as they’re concerned, just a couple of kids with a mom and a dad that they’re allowed to love freely with all their hearts.

And just like that, the air was cleared. Luke glommed onto me, back to his old affectionate self again. Elizabeth hugged me tight and said she loved me SO MUCH. We were good again. Back to being a family.

I swear, if Steve goes to all the effort of bonding with them and then ditches them again when the next new thing comes along, it will be the cruelest thing he has ever done in a lifetime of cruel deeds.

That’s out of my hands, though. Right now It’s just good to have my kids back and happy.

My next couple of weeks are full of actual scheduled craziness. I’m really hoping that the UNscheduled craziness levels will be considerably lower than last week’s.

Just a teeny break, so I can breath for a while. That’s all I ask.

Categories: Family, kids, Life, Love | 3 Comments

Mysterious Ways

At the beginning of last Wednesday’s custody hearing the judge asked if the divorce was final yet, and Steve’s lawyer had replied unpleasantly, “Oh it’s just getting started.” Her words and tone evoked images of exhausting drawn-out court battles and endless legal combat. It was a depressing thought.

But unless the Silkotches were going to fight me on more than just the child custody front, I was pretty sure they didn’t have a very solid position to fight from. They had acted out of anger and spite, and it showed: the custody schedule they’d demanded makes absolutely no sense in our situation. Our residences are separated only by a shared fence; the kids can easily walk from one to the other. So why should they have to see only one parent for days at a time, or sit in some sort of child-care situation instead of at home with me while Steve is working? The new custody plan actually gave them less time with BOTH parents. I was pretty confident that the court would see the senselessness of it.

So first we had the Parenting Orientation Program (POP), and after that mediation would be scheduled to help us try and come to an agreement, and then a court hearing to decide the matter. I was ready to fight for the kids’ best interests, but I wasn’t looking forward to the process.

Today was the POP thing. There were quite a few other couples there, most sitting separately like us. Do you know what none of us brought? Our mothers.

Except Steve, of course.

There are so many things I could say about that, but I think I’ve said most of them already. Let’s move on.

At the beginning of the presentation the speaker said that it would be done in two parts, with a break in the middle. After the first part, any couples that were in agreement about custody and visitation could go down to the mediation room and have a legal agreement filed, and skip the second half. Oh, for the simplicity of that.

So I sat through the first half of the program, and then the break came and the speaker urged the couples to get together and try to come to an agreement on their own before the second half began. I glanced over at Steve and his mom.

They were both nodding at me: they wanted to come to an agreement. I was astonished.

Steve gestured for me to come over to where they were sitting, but I indicated that he should come to me. I had nothing to say to Cheryl.

He came over, and we began negotiations.

Our original agreement, the one that had worked fine for the past 15 months, was too vague for me to put my trust in anymore. “Free visitation whenever Steve wants on three conditions…” could add up to him demanding that the kids sleep at his house every night. I wanted every detail in writing this time.

There were a few things that I intended to stand my ground on no matter what. The kids must be allowed to attend church and Youth Group meetings every week. When Steve is working, the kids must either be with him or with me. The original three conditions must remain in effect. Everything else was up for negotiation.

Steve was very much in Amicable Cooperation Mode, and in about 15 minutes we’d reached an agreement that made us both happy. He got his afternoon visits back (with specific limits on how late the kids will stay on school nights and on non-school nights), and in exchange for those he gave up the Thursday nights he’d wanted during his non-custodial weeks. His custodial periods will still begin on Thursdays, but after the Youth Group meetings. I offered him a choice: bring the kids to church on Sundays, or let his custodial periods end on Saturdays at 6pm. He chose the latter. The original three conditions are back in place, and now apply to both of us.

We went down to the mediator’s office and had it all made official. And just like that, the battle appears to be over. I don’t think we even have to go to that final hearing in August, since nothing’s being contested anymore. A few more routine forms to file and this will all be behind us.

Considering how crappy the rest of the week has been, this was a pretty fine ending.

Next: Camp Wynola!

Categories: Family, kids, Life | Leave a comment

That Kind Of Week, Continued

Thursday morning I stepped outside and was greeted by the plaintive yowls of a cat in dire straits. I followed my ears to the persimmon tree, where Hybrid, one of Stripes’ half-grown kittens, had gotten himself (or herself; I haven’t checked genders yet) stranded up in the branches.

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When life throws the old Cat Stuck In A Tree cliché at you on top of everything else, all you can do is laugh at the absurdity and go find a ladder.

Hybrid was soon rescued.

But this is turning out to be a rough week for the animals. We have another unexplained horse wound, this time on Mahogany’s leg…

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…and the chicken flock seems to be shrinking. I need to do a head count one of these nights while they’re roosting.

That afternoon I went to another VBS meeting and helped paint the camp-themed mural until it was time for my worship team meeting to begin. That’s also Youth Group night and pretty soon there were kids all over the place and none of them were Luke or Elizabeth because they were still at camp and I was ACHING with missing my babies by the time I left for home.

This morning I awoke to the sound of alarmed chickens and something chasing them. I ran outside to find Steve’s dog Brutus in hot pursuit of a hen. For some reason Gericault and Brodie were watching this but not putting a stop to it. Maybe because they’re friends with Brutus? I don’t know, it was pretty odd. Even odder was that Brutus didn’t even seem to grasp the fact that he was busted. I went after him, yelling “NO” and “GIT” and “GO HOME” and he just kept chasing one chicken after another like I wasn’t even there. Finally I threw a rock at him. It nailed him on the shoulder and he fell over like he’d been shot or something. When he got up he was three-legged lame. Part of me felt bad because I’d only meant to chase him away, not injure him, but it was a very small part. Chicken chasing is no joke.

I sent Steve a text message: “Keep your dog away from my chickens.”

He actually called me on the phone a few minutes later, something he hasn’t done since things got ugly. He asked if Brutus was still here, and I said I didn’t know because I was back in the house now. I told him about the rock I’d thrown and Steve said he’d come up and look for him. It was weird because this was Steve’s Friendly And Agreeable voice, and I did not know what to make of it. I stayed in the house, because I did not feel like looking at Steve this morning. I knew I’d see enough of him at the Parent Orientation Program later in the day.

I’m going to end this post here, because the kids are home now and freshly bathed and now we’re going to watch The Brave Little Toaster in a big snuggly pile on the sofa.

More later!

Categories: Animals, Dogs, Family, Horses, kids, Life, Love | 3 Comments

My Very First Hearing

In Heavenly armor we’ll enter the land,
The battle belongs to the Lord.
No weapon that’s fashioned against us shall stand:
The battle belongs to the Lord.
~Jamie Owens-Colli.

I drove down to Hemet Wednesday morning with adrenaline singing through my veins. I did not want to be full of adrenaline. I wanted to be calm and mellow and articulate. I knew Steve would be bringing a lawyer (Julie Paige, the woman his mother works for) and I had never met her but I knew she would be doing her best to push all my buttons and make me lose my cool. I figured in my current state there was a pretty good chance that she would make me cry in front of the judge, and a small-but-horrifying possibility that she would goad me into getting angry and loud. Adrenaline was not my friend that morning.

I got to the courthouse early and waited outside the courtroom with a bunch of other folks who had morning hearings. My plan was to watch and listen carefully to every case that was heard before ours, so that I could get a feel for how it was supposed to go and what I was supposed to say. I really had no idea what to expect. I was grateful that most of the people there were dressed even more casually than me, except for the lawyers.

After a while Steve and (of course) his parents arrived and hung out a good distance away from where I sat. Steve was wearing jeans and a dark grey button-down shirt and an alarmingly bright teal tie. He aimed this look at me…I’m not sure if it was supposed to be Threatening or Intimidating or what, but these days when I look at him all I see is a petulant child. I met his gaze until he dropped his eyes.

Oh! I forgot to mention the funny part! Okay, I had received a copy of Steve’s request for a restraining order, and it was full of mostly-fictional accounts of all the horrible things I had done to him since the separation. In each instance he took a nugget of truth, like the thrown Blizzard or the dings in his truck, and then wildly embellished them with grandiose lies until anyone reading the accounts (who didn’t know Steve or me) might truly believe that I was a dangerous lunatic who can’t walk down the street without knocking over mailboxes and smashing windows. That’s not the funny part. The funny part is that in the section where he was supposed to fill in my physical description, he got EVERYTHING WRONG. He has known me for 15 years and was married to me for 11.5 of those, but somehow he does not know what color my eyes are or how tall I am or what year I was born or anything about my physical appearance.

Okay, moving on. The courtroom doors opened and we all filed in and sat down except Steve and his parents because their lawyer was late. She finally made it though. She didn’t look at all the way I’d pictured her, but she looked exactly like the sort of lawyer that Cheryl would work for. Anyway, she asked the judge to put our case first because she had to leave soon. Curses!! I didn’t get to watch anyone else first!

The judge called us up and for some reason she and Steve sat on the “Respondent” side, so I sat on the “Petitioner” side. I was tautly braced for her worst, but I didn’t know what that would look like.

And then she started to talk, and all my nervousness melted away. She was SO over-the-top sneery and belligerent and bullying that it had an instantly calming effect on me. It was like suddenly she was the one who had lost her grip and I was the one in calm control of myself.

You cannot rattle me by acting like my mother. I was born and raised in that there briar patch.

Then the judge asked me if I wanted to say anything, and I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say so I just sort of reiterated the response I had filed until the judge told me to stop doing that, and then I was at a loss as to what I was supposed to say. Not that that slowed me down any. (Note to self: learn when to stop talking.)

A few minutes into the hearing I began to realize that the three of us were working at cross-purposes.

Steve’s lawyer was working very hard at trying to get the judge to change his mind and approve the restraining order. (I think she just wants it on my record.) She was very tenacious on the subject, and painted me as a dangerous psychopath who would be waiting behind bushes to slit Steve’s throat if he wasn’t protected.

Me, I was working very hard to convince the judge that giving Steve physical custody of the children is a Very Bad Idea.

The judge was working very hard…well, no. The judge was primarily focused on advising me that things would go much better for me during the divorce proceedings if I let Steve have visitation now, without the conditions I was asking for.

We all talked for a while and then the judge made his ruling: no new orders. No restraining order, no new custody orders. At the divorce hearing in August Steve and I could hash out a final custody agreement, after we’d been through mediation.

For a while there I actually thought I’d won something. With the judge’s advice in mind I sent Steve a text: “The kids get home from camp Friday. You can have afternoon visits, but no more overnights until after the next hearing.”

He texted back, “Thank you.”

I got about halfway home and realized that I had forgotten to get that rackinfrackin Proof Of Service filed while I was at the courthouse.

I turned around, drove back to Hemet and back to the courthouse. The line was epic. But finally, FINALLY, that piece of paperwork was gotten out of the way.

I got home and just breathed for a while.

And then I picked up the pile of paperwork I’d been served and realized with a sinking feeling that I hadn’t won anything yet. “No new visitation orders” meant that the orders approving Steve’s visitation request were still in place until the next hearing.

I called the courthouse back and spoke to a Family Law clerk who confirmed that.

Siiiiiggghhhhhhh.

I added up the weeks (Steve gets the first, third and fifth week of every month) and realized that the stars and planets are aligned exactly right to give Steve only five days of custody between now and the hearing, so the kids’ lives won’t be disrupted too awfully much if things go well then. Maybe just enough that they can tell the court with certainty that they don’t want to keep doing it. Maybe by then Steve will have realized that revenge is a fleeting pleasure but actual parenting is perpetually noisy and messy and inconvenient and expensive.

I texted Steve and told him what I’d realized and that he would have the kids from July 30 — August 2. He said okay.

I’m glad they are safely out of town this week while all the fur flies.

When I thought about it later, I realized that I had in fact won something pretty huge: Steve’s lawyer was pushing so hard for that restraining order because I think it would basically be their only weapon against me in the divorce proceedings. Unless they have some new trick up their sleeves, all they have to fight with now is a failed attempt to make me look dangerous and a father who has been emotionally absent from his children’s lives since they were born.

I pray that Pastor Bill is right and this will turn out to be a blessing in the end. Mysterious ways, and all that.

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Back to the cow issue, I have come to a decision about what I want to do there. But this post is already very long, so I’ll include that in one of this week’s future installments.

To Be Continued….

Categories: Family, kids, Life | 3 Comments

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