Happy Birthday, Maureen (Or Road Trip Part 2)

The big reason we took this trip to Canada was to see my Aunt Maureen, who turned 70 at the end of July, and who has a special place in my heart.

When my sister and I were growing up, we would spend a month or so each summer at our grandparents' house in New York. It was a little girl's heaven. Grandma spoiled us rotten with shopping, hair salon appointments, a country club membership, and even birthdays-and-Christmas-in-July.

I used to wonder why my mom would drive us each year ALL THE WAY from Wisconsin to New York for this. Now I more than understand. Summer childcare is a huge, hairy monster. If you have people who will take care of your children and love them as much as you do FOR A WHOLE MONTH, you will drive to Guam to deliver them.

Even if it means they come home with Miss Piggy jeans and poodle perms.

Anyway, during these long and fantastic visits we'd inevitably hit a point of saturation. Shopped-out, saloned-out, always-on-our-best-behaviored-out.

That was always the moment that Maureen would swoop in for a visit, pile the two of us and our permy hair into her little Toyota, and take us out for some REAL fun. She'd take us to a waterpark for the day (back in the day when they were a BIG deal, and not a dime a dozen) and sit on a bench praying while we hurled our little bodies down slides and through tubes. Or she'd take us to museums or into the city. She brought us back into the world of energy and fun, and we soaked it up.

I remember little things about those outings, like the time we were on our way into the city, and got stuck in a LONG traffic jam. For hours. In a Toyota without air conditioning. In July. Maureen kept us entertained by teaching us the story of Prinderella (Cinderella, but with the words all mixed up. "Tonce upon a wime, there lived a giddly little pirl by the name of Prinderella....") Without ever seeming frustrated, tired, annoyed or hot, she recited it over and over and over again, all the way through that traffic jam.

Or the time the three of us were in the car, and Maureen kept a straight face the whole time Erin and I belted out Gloria Gaynor's song, "I Will Survive." We were 8 and 10 years old and full of feminist pride. And she HAD to be full of stifled laughter.

She was our breath of fresh air during those summer visits, our chance to let our recklessness rule for a little while before going back to Grandma's.

And so, for her 70th birthday we visited all of our recklessness on her (and on Jean-Paul) once again. She swooped in and saved us from a summer that was looking to be way too work-heavy, and gave us reason to have fun for a little bit.

Erin, Mom, Maureen and Me

Ben, Bob, Jean-Paul, Eric and Theo

Oops - We Did It Again (Or Road Trip Part 1)

After our trip to South Carolina in March, you'd think we'd have had enough "family fun." You'd think that forty hours in a car with your children would be enough. You'd think.

The thing is, Eric and I are both first-borns. We are both achievers. We opt to take the hard route in life whenever possible, because our birth order has rendered us serious, nose-to-the-grindstone, do-what-it-takes people.

This is the only explanation I can come up with. Because upon our return from South Carolina, we gleefully made plans to take ANOTHER road trip with the kids. No, not a fun little weekend jaunt. Not a four-hour drive to somewhere fun.

Canada, people. We decided to go to Canada.

And, once again, we had a blast. And we all lived to blog about it.

The first leg of our trip was to Appleton, Wisconsin for my high school reunion. Fortunately, this is also where three of our four grandparent babysitters live, so the boys were scooped up by Grandma Anna for an evening of fun while we were out trying to pretend we had really grown up in twenty years.

Grandma with the boys in her beautiful garden

Another shot of her beautiful garden

The next morning, we had a quick visit with Grandpa Pat and Carol, who took us to see more beautiful gardens at a park in Appleton.

Grandpa, Carol and the boys

Me, Grandpa and Theo

Ben and his "I'm falling!" schtick

Then we hit the road, and drove through Chicago and around the south shore of Lake Michigan. We pulled off the highway somewhere (Indiana? Michigan?) and happened upon a sand dune beach. Without further ado, the boys stripped off their shirts and swam for the first time in Lake Michigan. It was glorious. The water was beautiful, the sand white and fine.

So beautiful, in fact, that one hardly even notices the nuclear power plant belching in the distance.

Eh, what's a little waste by-product when you're having fun??

Ah, the years, they have been good to us...

But come on, TWENTY of them????

Yes, it has been twenty years since I donned the royal blue cap and gown and called myself a "Terror" for the last time. (Many may have called me a terror since, but it's just not the same.)

Last weekend was the first time I've seen most of my high school class in nearly a quarter century. The 20th reunion of the Appleton West class of 1988 was held last weekend, and despite my less-than-enthusiastic feelings about it, it was really fun.

The years have mellowed most of us. Jobs, marriage, children, divorce, etc. have made us less crazy and more able to be pace our alcohol consumption. The weight of the world has finally done its job.

The weight of the world has also had an affect on our hair. My goodness...that slide show was like a walk through a horror film. How much permed, hair-sprayed Bon Jovi hair could we fit into one class photo? A LOT, let me tell you.

Turns out, the people who were my favorite then are still my favorite. Here they are:

Melissa and Me

Andrea, Melissa and me and a few of the guys we've picked up since 1988.

The Mighty Flambeau

Since we've been up to a whole lot of nothing here at the Lucas house for the past couple of weeks, I thought I'd post about a little trip we took one weekend in June.

Every year my dad and I meet on a river in Minnesota or Wisconsin and we kayak for the day. This year we changed the plan a little and made it a family outing. So, my dad and Carol, Erin and Bob, We Lucas Four, and some cousins all met in northern Wisconsin on the mighty Flambeau River.

Here is everyone enjoying the trip:

Eric and Ben

Bob and Erin

Theo

Carol and Dad

The plan: to enjoy a summer day canoe trip and soak up some sun.

The reality: we soaked up about 15 inches of RAIN as a storm caught us about half an hour into the trip.

We ended our soggy trip early and headed to the nearest supper club for a great dinner.

The next morning my dad and I got up early and kayaked for an hour before anyone else was up.

I Heart My Vegetables

At this time of year I barely have time to weed our garden, much less write about it.

But I just couldn't help putting a few photos up here because every year when the little vegetables poke their tips through the soil and start making food I feel so proud of them. I get all welled up with gratitude that they've done their thing despite my neglect, and that they're living their little lives just to feed us.

I also feel sad about the plants that don't make it. This year that includes onions and a few black beans. It's so sad that the little seeds die in the ground before fulfilling their reproductive destiny. AND it's sad that we won't have onions!

You're sensing that maybe my attachment to my garden is a bit....emotional? Extreme?

Maybe it's having children that does it to a person, because I'm telling you, it is SO fulfilling to have a living thing do what you ask it to do!

These plants don't fight with each other when I'm on the phone, they don't throw tantrums at Target, and they certainly don't keep me up at night worrying about the need to make their lives happy and unencumbered.

It's enough to make an emotional attachment like velcro.

Here they are, photographed without being told to stand up straight and stop pinching their brothers:

The garden

Beautiful lettuce

Sweetest Pea