Vacation: Part One

For Christmas my sister Janae treated the whole family to one week in a house on the Oregon Coast. It was to be our first vacation in two years (the same amount of time Mike was in grad school . . . coincidence?). So, on the 15^th we packed up the car and set off for the coast, just the six of us (the rest of the family flew bpbpbpbpbp).

The destination of the first leg of our journey was Meridian, Idaho, the home of my Aunt Suzanne and Uncle Galen. We went by way of two exiting, touristy stops.

Stop one: Shoshone ice cave. (This place oozes tourist trap, but is actually run by the fine state of Idaho.) The cave is between 26 and 29 degrees year round, and the ground is made of a eight-foot thick sheet of ice. Of course, James being the macho man he is immediately declared, “It’s not even cold in here,” and refused to don his jacket.

Legend has it the cave was used as a prison for the daughter of a great Chief when she refused to marry the man her father chose. Some say her ghost still haunts the cave. A watermark bearing the likeness of a man on the rock outside the cave is said to be the chief still watching to make sure she never leaves. Spooky. The kids loved it. According to Anna, it was totally worth the $36 we paid to get in.

From there, we drove north about a thirty minutes to Craters of the Moon National Park. When the kids first saw it they complained that it was “nothing but lava rocks.” Of course Mike had to make the obligatory dinosaur-poo joke which was hilariously funny. Waka waka.

While driving through the park we came across a huge, black mound of lava dust. We took one look at the steep hill and just had to see what was at the top. So up we went.

After that we headed to a group of lava-tube caves. Ellie, sporting a fabulous headlamp, led the way. As soon as we entered the first cave it started to rain, so we had a great excuse to stay and explore. The kids were in heaven, there were so many places to climb. They shimmied through small places, and found new ways to get from here to there.

On the way back to the car, we had to take a new route through the lava field. There were so many places to hide. While the kids were busy playing, Mike hid in a small lava cave and patiently waited for one of them to walk by. Anna was the lucky one. Just as Anna walked by, Mike let out a deep growl. The resulting scream was very satisfactory, and we all had a good laugh and headed back to the car to continue our journey.

We finally made it to Meridian around 9 p.m. Naturally, we decided to go swimming. The kids swam and played with the cousins until 10, then we had a late supper, played some more, and finally made it to bed around midnight. It was a long but really great day.

Power Struggle #564

Kindergarten registration requires a urinalysis. That means asking your five-year-old to pee in a cup. My youngest child, Ellie, turned five in December. She went for her kindergarten physical in January. She took one look at that cup and her iron-clad bladder refused to produce. Despite the fact the doctor kept saying, “We only need a few drops.” I knew that this rather inflexible child was not going to turn out even one drop, even if it meant she couldn’t pee for a week. So I decided to wait, and collect the urine at home. (Are you grossed out yet? It gets better.)

For months I have tried to incentivize the urine collection. I have offered ice cream, candy, movies, and sleepovers with grandma but to no avail. Instead of peeing in the cup, Ellie would craftily say, “Mom, I have to do something. I’ll be right back.” Then, she would sneak into the bathroom, do her business, and come back with an innocent face thinking she had gotten away with the deception. I let it go.

But Friday I decided was the day. No more excuses. It was time to fight the you-will-pee-in-the-cup-today-no-matter-how-much-you-cry battle. I started off the morning by providing as many drinks as possible, but the girl must have some kind of sixth sense because she hardly drank a thing. We went to the park, played out in the heat, and worked up a thirst. Still she insisted she was not thirsty. When we came home for lunch I informed her that we were going to try the cup but she insisted she didn’t need to go. HA!

Ellie then informed me that what she really wanted was privacy. I told her I was pretty sure she needed my help. So, in order to save Ellie’s modesty I ended up with headphones in my ears, music blaring, and my eyes squeezed shut. In essence, I was to pretend I was not there. After standing awkwardly for several minutes, pretending to be invisible, Ellie loudly declared she did not need to go. We’ll see about that I thought, and upstairs we went.

I walked straight to my emergency-supplies drawer and pulled out a can of Sprite. I poured the Sprite into a glass with ice, and added a straw. Ellie looked at it and said, “I’m not thirsty.” Did my sugar addict just refuse Sprite . . . with a straw? I could see she saw right through my plan to make her drink until she couldn’t hold it. So, naturally I did what any other overly-tired-of-this-power-struggle parent would do; I picked a battle and insisted that she drink the Sprite right now!

“My tummy hurts,” Ellie declared.

“Sprite is just the thing for a hurt tummy.” I replied.

“I don’t feel good. I think I better take a nap.”

Take a nap? Are you kidding me? This child really is desperate. “I want you to take five swallows.”

“No, mommy! (Insert blubbering here.) I don’t like it.”

“One.”

“Okay, just don’t count.”

This discussion went back and forth like a tennis match, and for once I was more stubborn than Ellie. After being coerced into taking five sips, she finally declared she needed to go to the bathroom. So, I grabbed my ipod and a piece of Rubbermaid and walked into the bathroom with my eyes closed and attempted to catch the pee. And guess what???? It finally happened. I was so happy and so was Ellie who afterward declared, “That was so easy!”

I put a lid on the container and set it on the counter so I would remember it when we went to the doctor’s office that afternoon (to get a shot, but that’s another story). Unfortunately, (here comes the irony) my valiant struggle was in vain because by the time we made it to the doctor the sample was too old, so I just decided to forget it. There’s a time limit on these things? Hello! I guess we’ll just have to try again next year.