Signing off. . .temporarily, of course

Just a heads up to all my readers out there. . .

I am going to be away for the next two weeks . I’m leaving Saturday morning for a visit home to PA. That being said, I will most likely not be blogging during that time. I’ll be savoring every moment with family and friends that I haven’t seen in way too long. I’ll  hopefully be enjoying long walks outside in much more seasonable spring weather down there instead of hanging out in front of the computer. 🙂

Anyway, I just didn’t want you to think I had thrown in the towel on the whole blogging scene. I’ll be back. . .hopefully with some fun stories and pictures to share from my visit home. Until then, here are a few pictures to help curb your Liam fix till I’m back. 🙂

Ciao!

Chillin' with dad

Dancing with dad

Thanks for my adorable bib all the way from Bulgaria, Auntie Nina!

Relaxing with mama

Spring—–Is It Really You?

Time on the trails cannot come soon enough!

Ahhh. . .springtime. It’s definitely in the air. You can smell it—-that clean, fresh, sort of rain-mixed-with-thawed-earth scent. You can also see it. The light changes. It’s brighter and it lasts longer—helped along by daylight savings time, of course. The Vs of geese are dotting the sky like distant “connect-the-dots”. Puddles need to be jumped over everywhere. You can surely hear it. The sounds outside are getting crisper, no longer muffled by the cushion of snow. The birds are whistling away, planning for new things. New nests need to be built to prepare a place for the baby birds arriving soon. I love it. I dream of it for months before it arrives. Now here we are in March and it’s almost here. I say almost because of the zipcode in which I live. You know that saying about March—in like a lion and out like a lamb? Yeah well, that first part holds true up here, but you’d need to put “rabid” in front of the word lamb at the end to make the whole saying more accurate in Lake Placid. . .

Lake Placid is known for playing seasonal practical jokes on it’s residents. We have the rug pulled out from underneath us alot up here. Just when you think it’s spring—BANG—it’s winter again, and somehow 2 feet of snow falls from the sky in April or even May only a day after it was 65 degrees outside! Spring eventually does come, however, and after 2 solid months of MUD. . .we may see a few lilacs on select bushes (the especially hardy ones)probably around the end of June when spring and summer sort of merge into one. Then after a damp, rainy period which we all call “summer”–haha–up here, we usually get our 2 weeks at the beginning or end of August which showcase picture perfect weather. During these 2 weeks, the residents of Lake Placid are mesmerized, captivated, essentially entranced by the beauty surrounding them. These are the very 2 weeks that manage to sink their teeth into you each year and convince you to reside yet another year up here in anticipation of the next year’s nice 2 weeks.

Anyway, following the 2 hypnotic weeks comes autumn. This may or may not be normal/pleasant, depending on the mood of everything in the universe at the same time. If the stars are lined up meticulously and perfectly we may experience what I call a “mini-fall”. This would at least provide a sampling of what others get to experience outside of our zipcode—semi-warm days, color-washed leaves, a little time to break in a light sweatshirt before donning a babushka, scarf, down/fur/wool coat, mittens and heavily insulated boots for the next big chunk of your life called. . .WINTER IN LAKE PLACID. And the cycle continues. . . . . .

Contrary to how it might sound, I’m not writing about this to complain. I’m writing to kind of console myself. It really is in an effort to help me brace myself for what is, no doubt, still ahead.  Sharing the scenario with others reinforces my determination to not let my guard down too early this year. . .and end up disappointed. It’s so hard for me to not get my hopes up every year around this time—springtime. I grew up in PA where we had the lovliest springs—real springs. I have never forgotten them and how blissful they made me feel and I have never gotten used to the “pseudo” version up here. The fact is, I am a warm weather girl. I do love the changing of the seasons, but I guess a more mild version is what I’m after. I would also like to live where the seasons actually change. What we experience up here is really more like varying degrees of  a form of winter/monsoon season. . . . . .all year long. I wish I was kidding. I’m not. However, it does help to have a sense of humor about it. 🙂

Despite alot of teasing and harrassing from family and friends about why we would ever choose to live here, there are numerous reasons why many would. Lake Placid is beyond beautiful. I guess “pure” would be a good way to describe it. Fresh, clean mountain air. . .a plethora of freshwater lakes and streams. . .lots of untouched, rugged terrain. I do love it for all that it is. There is a natural strength and force very much alive here. You can’t help but be in awe and sometimes even fear of the elements which are quietly, and occasionally not so quietly, at work out there in the  vast Adirondacks. There is a part of you missing if you fail to hold a healthy respect and appreciation for this place.

This spring, Lake Placid is still home. Regardless of how the weather behaves, it’s such an exciting spring for Shawn and I because it’s Liam’s first one and we get to experience it with him. The timing is just perfect. He is getting more and more mobile and easier to go out and about with. No more bundling up a flacid infant in a bulky snowsuit. When the weather is nice, it’s into a little jacket and hat and off we go for a walk in the stroller now that the sidewalks and streets are snow-free. He loves it and so do we. I can’t wait to get a  jogging stroller with more rugged tires so we can pick up the pace and take advantage of the trails up here as well. That way good old Zane can run free beside us—he needs and loves it just as much as we do!

There are so many fun times ahead this year. We are going to appreciate all we can experience—wherever we find ourselves at the moment. We are determined to take advantage of every beautiful day together and savor every second we get to spend with our families and loved ones. Yes, this year I’m refusing to wallow in self-pity because of the temperamental nature of the area I live in. I am taking each day for what it is and making peace with it. If it means staying inside on a dreary, rainy day and baking a batch of cookies while my little son watches, then so be it.

I will let you in on one thing. . .we are hoping that this was the last winter we’ll be spending as residents of Lake Placid. Next spring we just might find ourselves preparing to plant a garden that will actually survive right through fall. We will hopefully be raising our son much closer to family and friends. We may even be planning a road trip to visit Lake Placid—during those nice 2 weeks, of course. Time will tell, but for now. . .life is sweet. 🙂

It's days like this that make it all worth it. . .

The Chihuahua and the St. Bernard

                      

Over the years, Shawn has “affectionately” referred to me as his little Chihuahua. Long ago, we both took an online quiz entitled “What breed of dog are you?”.  According to my results, apparently I would, in fact, be a Chihuahua. Shawn ended up being a St. Bernard, that son of a gun. He has run with this ever since—thinking it is the most accurate and hilarious thing ever. Anyone who knows me and the dogs I’ve chosen as pets over the years, knows that I’m a fan of big dogs. My beloved Caesar was a Rottweiler and no one could ever take his place in my heart. I do love all animals and dogs of all sizes, but I never imagined myself owning, and definitely not being compared to, a little yippy breed. This comparison by Shawn especially rears it’s head when I am either sleep-deprived or hungry—both of which I was last night as we sat down to dinner.

Now if you’ve ever seen a little dog in action, you’ve noticed that they have absolutely no concept of how small they are. In their mind they are as big or bigger than everyone/thing around them. Their personality almost always makes up for their size. I have seen many a big dog back down to a small one. Can you blame them? Those little buggers are quick and to the point. They have no trouble getting their point across whether it’s to get the heck away from them and their favorite chair, to NOT try to take their bone/toy away, or to just not bug them in general. They accomplish this with the ferocious look they give you out of the corner of their eye while simultaneously snarling, frantically licking their lips and baring their little razor teeth. We’ve all seen it, cracked up about it, yet in the end, yielded to it.

Shawn knows it drives me nuts when he brings up the Chihuahua thing and he tries to soften it by making it sound like it’s actually a compliment or something. He says things like “well you’re cute and little like them and you are feisty and don’t have a problem standing up for yourself”. Okay Shawn—-whatever! I know what he really means—-at least I do after contemplating the scene during last night’s dinner. . . .

I’m afraid this is more what he’s really thinking sometimes. . .

Apparently last night I was sending out the Chihuahua vibes because he was doing that “I’ll be extra nice to Sarene because I can tell she’s ready to snap and I’m scared to death right now of doing something that might set her off” thing that he does. This only makes matters worse because the extra niceness drives me crazy! Then I know that he knows exactly the mood I’m in and that my efforts to hide it from him and myself and just move on are futile. We both have to deal with it then and that is so not what I want when I’m like that. It’s also not really what he wants either. He is just slightly terror-stricken and doesn’t know what the hell else to do. I also think he is secretly amused with me and my inabiltiy to/determination not to, rationalize on ANYTHING when  I get like that.

So there we are, about to have dinner. Remember the scenario: Sarene + hunger + sleep-deprivation = Chihuahua on steroids, according to Shawn. He’s being ridiculously nice to me and I’m getting more and more irritated. I can actually feel my lips starting to curl up over my teeth a little now. He’s tip-toeing around everything we’re talking about and I’m snapping out really direct opinions and viewpoints, guarding my feelings. . . like a dog with a bone.  Anyway, I could see him start to avoid eye contact with me. He’s shifting in his seat, swallowing really hard and slow and then finally he gets up from the table. It was exactly the scenario of the big dog yielding to the little scary one snarling, or as my mom would say, “snickering”,  at him. Seconds later, up from behind me comes Shawn, my loyal, even-keeled, St. Bernard-esque husband to massage my shoulders and soothe the savage beast. He says timidly, “I’m going to let you go ahead and have a few more bites of food before I go back and sit across the table from you. . . . . .because I’m scared.”  As always, he won right then and I ended up laughing at myself. Moments later, my blood sugar had risen to happier levels and we were having a jolly good time together.

This sums him up in moments like that. . .

It always ends that way. We are just good together. Honestly, we never fight. We have tremendous respect for each other. He knows not to cross the Chihuahua in me (haha 🙂 ) and I know never to take for granted the gentle, calm strength I can depend on and love in his big dog-natured ways. He thinks before he acts. He is patient and hard-working and always sticks with things and sees them through. He knows just how to reign in my high-strung/high maintenance side and is a professional at making me laugh at myself when I start to take everything too seriously and fly off the handle. You never have to worry about him in a crowd getting upset about something someone says or does and going off on them or anything. I’m not sure he has that same confidence in me, however. I’ve seen the look of panic on his face when he knows someone has said or done something that didn’t sit well with me. He shoots me this quick glance, this nervous smile, that tells me he’s thinking, “oh god, oh god, PLEASE don’t let her say anything”. That doesn’t happen so much anymore, because his influence has made me a much more patient, mild-tempered person over the years. He has helped tone me down where I needed it. He still manages to keep a sense of humor about my ways and I love him for always accepting me for who I am and loving me anyway.

That being said, I’m still convinced that I’m just the little ankle-biter he needed in life. When something needs getting done, perhaps requiring a little “persuasion” to make it happen, guess who he elects to make the needed phonecall or visit to the party involved?  I’m proud to say that I’ve helped give him the guts to speak up in some uncomfortable situations, even if it was because he was afraid that if he wouldn’t. . . I would :). He tells me I’ve helped him gain confidence in himself and become a little bolder when going after something he wants. He even calls me his “secret weapon” sometimes. If that’s true, I’m so glad.

I guess I should be grateful for the little chihuahua part of me afterall. It’s the feisty, determined spirit that has gotten me through some really tough times and helped bring me to where I am today. It’s what keeps me from giving up, settling for less and backing down when it would be so much easier to do just that. Maybe Shawn is, in a way, complimenting me with his teasing about this and I should learn to embrace this side of myself. Thankfully for me, he obviously has :).

Hmmmm. . .after all this pondering, I’m left with one question. What do you get when you cross a Chihuahua with a St. Bernard? I guess we’ll have to wait till Liam is a little older and his personality is a little more developed to get a straight answer on that one. . . . . . . . .stay tuned.

. . .and now transitioning into Downward Dog

. . .and exhale

Baby yoga—self-taught—who knew? Well, not exactly. . .

Liam is currently in training for his next big milestone—crawling. Everyday he has several intense sessions with either of his two trainers (mama and daddy), who root for him the whole time. He even has Zane on the sidelines observing his progress. The little man takes these “workouts” very seriously and is a very diligent participant. As he works toward the ultimate tabletop pose—evenly supporting himself on both hands and knees at the same time—we are having a good time watching everything in between.

Right now we see alot of see-sawing and teeter-tottering going on. It’s one or the other— either head and torso or little butt in the air. Sometimes he just skips the knee element altogether and goes straight for pushing off of his toes—as you can see above. We are, of course, very proud of his effort and progess. I’m not sure he is, however. Every session is filled with piercing shreaks and screams of frustration when he can’t get his little body to do what his little mind wants it to.  The session always ends with him face-down and flat, rewardingly exhausted. After only a few attempts, he expects himself to have mastered this thing already! I am detecting hints and undertones of the perfectionistic qualities handed down from his mother, but that’s another story.

At any rate, he’s working tirelessly on the task at hand and I’m sure will soon be a pro crawler—though probably not as quickly as he’d like, not by his standards. In the meantime, we will be by his side, on our own hands and knees, to support him and cheer him on as he continues on his journey toward. . .mobility nirvana.

Maybe I Spoke Too Soon

No sooner did I post that last blog and doesn’t he go and find his feet? Purely by accident, of course. So much for not having to fight him to change his pants. I see more battles on the horizon for me. . . . . . .

He was trying desperately to make it to his mouth here. . .and was successful only moments later 🙂

These Things Called Hands

The “lambchop” is now 5 months old and certainly becoming his own little man. He is getting more aware of himself—and all his parts—by the day. Right now he is fascinated, absolutely fascinated, by his hands. He especially likes the fact that he can connect them to one another. He is forever holding hands with himself these days.

It has become quite the battle when it comes to changing his outfits. The pants part—no sweat. He’ll drop his pants for you any day. But god forbid you try to take off his shirt. It’s at this point that the expression on his face begins changing to one of panic. It’s not that he cares about the shirt itself or the pulling of it over his head. It’s the hands. They must remain connected at all times. They usually take on a bluish-purple hue at changing time because he holds on for dear life in anticipation of their separation, thus cutting off some circulation to the very extremities he is trying so desperately to protect.  He wouldn’t want to lose one of them or anything. I mean it’s taken him 5 months to find them—and he is not about to share them—with anyone, no matter how trustworthy they may appear. So if you were thinking of asking him to lend you one, even for a second. . .DON’T BOTHER.

Co-Sleepers–Just What the Sleep Doctor Ordered

I love sleeping next to him. I really do.

Waking up through the night to the soft sound of his breath. . .

Rolling over and gently stroking his face and hair. . .

Hearing him giggle and coo as he dreams away peacefully. . .

Knowing that all is right in the world.

The thought of kicking this adorable little man out of my bed, well, it just broke my heart.

 

But then. . .

 

Well, our bed just started to feel so small. . .and him so big. . .

The occasional elbow to the ribs and knee to the stomach was no longer funny.

Wars over the covers were occurring more and more frequently.

The farting and burping was becoming more than I could handle.

My sister-in-law, Jen, reassured me that really putting forth an effort to make the switch to the co-sleeper would be better for everyone in the long run. . .

God it was hard—I think more for me than him. He’s always been able to fall asleep pretty much anywhere, afterall.

It’s been a couple weeks. . .

Caroline, I cannot thank you enough for this wonderful gift. I sleep so well, knowing that he is right within arm’s reach, while I’m able to sleep soundly in my own space.

Jen, I will never doubt your advice.  As hard as it was and as much as I miss him. . . . it really was better for everyone.

Just look at him sleeping. . . like a baby. . .

 

 

 

So, if you’re a girl out there wrestling with the idea of moving your little guy to the co-sleeper—I’d say there’s no time like the present.

Seriously. . .I haven’t slept so peacefully in. . . well. . .years. . .

The Other Hogancamp Girl

She’s her own woman—that’s for sure. A dark-haired beauty, if you ask me. She’s one of the most loyal people you’ll ever meet. If she loves you, she loves you to the end. You could not ask for a truer friend. By the same token, if she doesn’t like you. . .god help you. DO NOT make her mad at you. You may not live long enough to heal the rift. She is proof that, indeed, dynomite does come in small packages. She is woman of more nicknames than you’d hear echo throughout a small village, some of which I’ll be using throughout this post. She is my sister, Renacia Mae.

“Scooter” has quite the determination. On her 2nd day of school she decided to drop out.  She had calmly walked to the bus-stop with the rest of us, but then just as calmly bolted away when the bus doors opened for her to board, leaving our bus-driver, Ed, very amused and exclaiming, “Look at that little kid go!”.  After finding her holed up at aunt Charlene’s, poor mom had the unpleasant task of bringing her to school that day.  The ordeal became physical, with my sister bracing herself in the doorway to her classroom, forcing her teacher, Mrs. Prusch, and my mom to literally pry her out. Mom had to leave her there screaming, while she was crying and a wreck herself. Fortunately, Mrs. Prusch was pretty seasoned with little kids’ dramas and knew just how to handle my sister. She became her favorite teacher and is beloved by her to this day.

There is also no question of whether or not “Kate” likes something/someone. I remember the time she was in, I think 4th grade.  She was sitting next to a little boy in Mrs. Rawding’s class who apparently didn’t smell the freshest (he was a McCabe after all. . .).  She at that point picked up her desk, as tiny a girl as she was, and simply moved it to a different spot in the classroom—problem solved. She never really liked Mrs. Rawding, either. She at one point asked her to disclose, in front of the class, whether or not she wore a wig everyday, which she OBVIOUSLY did.

Let’s not forget “Reggie’s” soft side, however. She LOVED all her dolls and stuffed animals. They were real to her, the same way her imaginary friends, Pinky and Coco were real to her. Each night before bed, she would load up Daisy, Chuma and the rest of the gang into her baby carriage and practice a fire drill on the stairway to make sure thay would all make it out safely in an emergency situation. After the fire drill, she would then tuck them all into her bed and crawl into the the minuscule spot she had left for herself. So selfless.

Like all sisters, we’ve had our moments. We’ve overlooked and forgiven alot. “Renaka” even managed to forgive me for temporarily ruining her love of M&Ms when I convinced her worms lived inside all of them, encouraging her to turn over her stash to me so I could eat them safely dispose of them for her. She suffered from OCD even back then and would never have even thought of touching anything possibly infested with critters. Today the OCD displays itself in overly frequent handwashings. . . even if she’s only been visually exposed to something questionable. She also found it in her heart to forgive me for showing her exactly where to hold the prongs on our nightlight when she plugged it in so she would zap herself good “wouldn’t electricute herself” (so I told my parents when I got in trouble. . .). Well, enough of my talents–this is about my sister.

We’ve been through alot together. . .neither of us escaping completey unscathed. After being warned repeatedly about riding double on our bikes, we did anyway. My front tire went into a sewer grate and “Maesy” took the brunt of that one. I won’t lie, it was fairly bloody. . .though not for me. . .not that time. My time came at gram’s house when I thought I could run full speed down the length of her porch, then jump off the stairs at the end and successfully land on my feet. . .with Renacia clinging to my back like a jockey on a horse. NOT one of my brightest ideas. I paid for that one when I not only landed, but slid for some distance, on the concrete sidewalk. . .on my face. I had scabs running from my hairline, down my nose, lips and chin for a couple weeks. Not a pretty sight. Still. . .these are the things we’ve been through together, proving to only make our sisterly bond stronger. 🙂

This past weekend my sister came for a visit. The earmarks of her being in the house were all over; half drank cans and glasses of beverages everywhere you looked. She’s always thirsty and pouring herself something but NEVER manages to finish any of it. She’s got like 10 drinks going at once! I was happy to see that she has resumed eating M&Ms. My jar was just about emptied. The girl can eat more than a troop of starving ants at a picnic! I guess I had forgotten. Or maybe I had just chosen to block it out as it can be rather frightening at mealtimes when she’s around. . .

She will most likely hate me for this one. . .

She was a tremendous help with Liam. He loves her. Of course he does. All babies do. She is AMAZING with them. She loves them so much she has also been referred to as “The Baby Hog” since she rarely gives them back once she gets them in her arms—not that they ever mind. Aunt “Nay-Nay” keeps them amused and smiling the entire time she’s with them. It truly is one of her special gifts.

I have to say she keeps me amused and smiling when I’m with her, too. I’m not sure it’s even legal how much we laugh when we’re together. Our visit together was just great. The only thing that would have made it better is if she would have let me give her the “Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?” makeover she promised I could. Oh well, maybe next time. I always treasure our times together and I can’t wait to hang out with her next even though she’s bound to use me for my clothes and make-up yet again. I am especially anxious to see the new haircut I KNEW  she was going to get when she got home. (Hmmmm. . .wonder where her inspiration came from??) 

So you can call her any one of her plethora of nicknames, but she will always be my sister. There is no one else I’d rather say that about. I’m proud to say it. She is a beautiful person inside and out. I love you, Renacia. . .