The Baby Typhoon
Jun. 24th, 2021 10:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
taz_39I woke up around 8am on Wednesday, and immediately began stripping the bed of sheets.
Then I brought my backpack and suitcase to the living room, near the couch where I'd be sleeping that night.
After breakfast mom started the laundry while I gathered more of my things into the living room and loaded my steno machine into the car, then we drove to Agape to drop off freshly washed dish towels and some can openers (homeless people need can openers pretty often) and pick up a few things about to expire that Kayle's family could help finish off when they visit (Cheerios, stuff like that).
At the grocery we picked out a lot of food for them for the week, mostly healthy stuff but a few special treats. Just like how I requested a peanut butter whoopie pie, Kayle always asks for Country Maid doughnuts, which you can only get in PA (since 1894 supposedly). We found them along with a few other goodies, then headed home to stock the fridge and eat lunch.
Then dad came home from work early, because he and I were driving to Philly to pick up Kayle, her husband, and her two children from the airport. Before leaving we tried to assemble some of the baby furniture and the new carseat; doing this had me flustered and irritated in a matter of minutes. I've assembled loads of two-person IKEA furniture items all by myself, but baby furniture is a whole 'nother category. A lot of it does not make ergonomic sense during assembly because assemblage has much, much more to do with safety for the baby. Which is understandable, but also NOT understandable to the logical parts of one's brain.
I stomped off to pick up hoagies for us for dinner, and when I returned it was time to go.
Dad and I spent the two hour drive chatting about this and that, he wanted to talk politics but I was pretty standoffish and kept shutting him down with curt or noncommital responses. Sadly my dad, in typical "old white guy" fashion, loves to complain about all sorts of things without presenting a single solution or taking any action himself. I love my dad, but this behavior annoys the crap out of me, from anyone. Today I tolerated him whinging about the state of New Jersey building a big statue of George Floyd, and when he got to the part in the conversation where there are social cues for me to agree or disagree with him, I responded with, "As a resident of PA, did your tax dollars go toward this statue?" and "Do you know when the proposal for the statue was presented, and who showed up to oppose it?" and of course he either can't answer that or has to back up and admit that, truly, New Jersey spending it's money on a statue has zero effect on his life. Nor is/was he willing or able to do anything to prevent said statue from being built. If he had gone to the hearing himself and petitioned against it, and sold his house and poured all of his life savings and time and effort into stopping that statue from being built, the results would have been exactly the same.
So why b*tch about it?
Why have any opinion on it at all?
I see this type of aimless negativity in a lot of my older friends, and it drives me NUTS.
My dad will never stop, though, so at least I do listen and try to express that I respect his views. That's truly all I can do when he gets into this negative, curmudgeonly complaining mode. God, I hope I'm not like that when I get old. Plain old nonpolitical vanilla whining will hopefully be good enough for me.
Our other discussions were pleasant, though, and passed the time nicely. We talked about work and nature and family and philosophical things. I do enjoy and treasure talking with my dad, when it's a TALK and not just him complaining about things that do not affect him whatsoever.
Finally we got to the airport, and it happened to be right on time as Kayle's flight was just landing.
We only waited about ten minutes before we saw them walking toward the van with their luggage.
Getting everyone settled took a little time, and then Drexel had to be fed, but soon enough we were off!
Another two hours in the car! And poor Kayle and Skylar had been up since 4am, UGH. I could see how tired they were.
But we ate our hoagies and had a good long conversation about how everyone is doing. I actually felt like I hogged the conversation with stuff about my life, but the thing is that Kayle's husband can't talk about his work (government stuff) and Kayle's not currently working, my dad needed a break since he'd spent the last two hours talking to me, so once we chatted up their current life events I spent a good part of the trip describing how much my work has changed, relating what Jameson's up to, and going on and on about bread again. Everyone loves those bread pictures, I wish more people got to eat it with me!
We got home just as the kids were starting to complain, and there were enthusiastic greetings all around.
Elliotte has gotten so big! Here is my mom holding her shortly after we arrived.
While Kayle and her husband unpacked, I held Drexel and walked with him around the house.
Dad insisted on taking this picture, I resisted but it turned out to be a good idea because we never got another photo op.
Mom took Elliotte outside to keep her occupied while dad got to work building a fire in the fire pit.
I had a few emails to send (a possible gig popped up, if anything comes of it you'll hear about it later) and then I joined everyone outside where we sat together and enjoyed the fire, the clear cool night, and each other's company.
But the flights and drives had been long and everyone was tired, so after just an hour we went inside to go to sleep.
Elliotte is two years old, and a total whirlwind of a toddler. She's naturally very curious, very energetic, and pretty much ran around the house getting into EVERYTHING. We thought we'd done a good job childproofing until she actually got there! I felt exhausted just trying to keep an eye on what she was doing, never mind having to think about getting her ready for bed. Was I that crazy when I was two?? Woof!
While Kayle and her husband got ready for bed I read Elliotte a bedtime story. Something about a kitten cowgirl with a sparkly horse and a magic noodle lasso...look, it doesn't have to make sense. I read it with my best Southwest accent and sound effects, and she really seemed to pay attention. She even asked me to read it a second time, which I gladly did as it would keep her still for just a few more minutes. At some point in there Kayle finished her toilette and hovered around us, snapping pictures and gushing about how cute we were.
Finally it was actually time for bed, at 11pm. Just these few hours with the kids made me feel EXHAUSTED.
As I hugged my parents goodnight I whispered, "Good luuuuuck!" and they sighed heavily, but with smiles on their faces. The next two weeks will be hard on them, but they love their grandkids and I know they're glad to have them here. After hugging Kayle and her husband, Kayle insisted on a few more pictures of Elliotte and I together since I was leaving early in the morning.
Mom said, "Smile!" and I looked at Elliotte and said, "No! Stick your tongue out!"
Bad Aunt Megan has to represent, after all :P
But we did give them one nice picture as well :)
I got very little sleep, but that did not surprise me at all. I kept waking up when I heard Drexel fussing, and once I had a dream where my mom was being irresponsible while holding Drexel and she fell on top of him. In the dream he was OK, but I was LIVID, and began RAGING at her in this dead calm-sounding, furious tone about how her grandkids are not inanimate objects. I woke up gasping because apparently I was so angry I was holding my breath in my sleep!
This dream was borne from worry. My mom has glaucoma and can't see very well, and she's also very scatterbrained. In my mind's eye, it's very easy to see her forgetting to latch the basement gate and curious Elliotte falling down the basement stairs. Or forgetting that Drexel is sleeping in the basinette and dumping a load of towels on top of him and walking away. She would be furious that I'd think that of her, but unfortunately it's at least partially true. I just hope everyone gets through the visit unscathed. Argh.
Finally it was morning. I packed quickly, thanked my parents for the wonderful time together, hugged them one last time, and left.
Although Kayle and I had tried to coordinate our visit so that we'd be there at the same time, I'm very glad we ended up staggered this way. I think it would have been too many people in that little house, too much chaos, and selfishly I have to say I would have lost my mind and my patience way too quickly with the kids around. I have ZERO interest in interacting with children. That said, I will always help as much as I can, but I am just not a caregiver whatsoever and ultimately cannot be relied upon to prioritize the kids' needs first. Which is exactly why I'll never have kids.
There was one last thing that I wanted to do before truly hitting the road.
I wanted to get some home-grown flour to feed "Dough-Malley"!
A few days earlier I had poked around the locally-owned shops, asking if anyone knew where I could get local flour. Eventually I found Small Valley Milling. I gave them a call and had a cheery conversation with probably one of the owners, who talked my ear off about how great spelt is and how all of their flour is grown and milled right here. He said that they generally fill wholesale orders, but he had no problem selling individual 5-pound bags, so how about I swing by? I said I would. And so I did.
The GPS took me on winding roads through the very heart of Pennsylvania Dutch country.
You might think that places like Redding and Hershey are the PA Dutch and Amish hotspots. Population-wise and tourist traffic-wise, you'd be right. But there are little boroughs all over the state where Amish culture can be found in it's natural, un-monetized form.
This mill was tucked away in the Appalachian mountains, in the rolling hills of farmland pocked with industrial iron mines, coal mines, and limestone quarries. There are many people living in those hills but you can tell the Amish houses by the lack of power lines running to the homes, and by the construction of them: all big farmhouses clean and neat-looking, with laundry on the line and horses in the yard or stable. As always when driving through the mountains, I wanted to soak in the gorgeous scenery, but also didn't want to drive off the edge of a freaking cliff. Still, I managed to get a few pastoral views on the few occasions that the road was straight.
That is wheat growing on the right.
Because I was coming by so early, I called the mill again to give some warning and I'm glad I did. A woman answered this time and she sounded very stressed. I could hear the mill grinding away in the background, making it difficult for us to hear each other. Basically she'd gotten a pretty big order that needed to be filled quickly and hadn't been warned that some random individual would be showing up at her industrial workplace at 8am. I quickly apologized and told her to forget it, but she seemed to immediately regret discouraging me from coming and said she'd bag me some AP flour and have it ready when I arrived. Then she wanted to ask how I'd heard about their mill, and I told her I'm native to Bloomsburg traveling to Florida, etc etc, and she suddenly seemed truly interested. I explained my reasons for wanting local flour, and she suggested (no, INSISTED) that I take a bag of rye flour too, "We're very proud of our rye!" so of course I couldn't say no!
30 minutes later I was standing awkwardly outside the mill, the machinery screaming away inside while this tiny old lady approached me with two very fresh bags of flour. I paid in cash and she said now that I've got an account set up I can place an order any time, either through the mail or for pickup, just so long as I ordered ahead! I suddenly realized that that's where I'd messed up and gotten off on the wrong foot: I had called ahead, but I hadn't placed an order at least a day before arriving. Oof! All was forgiven, however, as we chatted pleasantly about wheat and rye and various breads and starters, of which she obviously knew loads more than I ever will, and so I listened attentively and with some level of awe for this woman who busted a$$ in a mill all day and grew her own grains from seed and absolutely seemed to love it.
Before walking back into the mill she pointed out her fields, visible up on a hill in the distance.
I held up the bag of rye that she had milled for me, and took a picture with those fields in the background.
And now it was ACTUALLY time to start driving. I had to work my way out of the mountains and back to civilization, where I ate a light breakfast and continued on my way. By 2pm I was at the garage in Virginia, where they had my tires installed and aligned in under an hour. By dinnertime I was at my aunt's house, and was able to get in via the garage. It was weird to be there without her or my uncle there! I had a nice meal of premade sushi and a whoopie pie (don't judge) then decided to go for a short walk on the jogging trail in her neighborhood. We've walked that trail many times, and it was a little strange to walk it alone, but also nice and much needed after eight hours in the car.
Frogs in the drainage ditch along the jogging trail:
The rest of the evening was spent uploading my disappointing steno practice hours for the week and decompressing by writing this blog and watching the Rick & Morty Season 5 premiere.
Tomorrow before I leave I'm insisting on stopping at La Farm Bakery for a loaf of bread since I won't have time to bake this week and since they have the best bread EVER. But after that it's 9.5 hours of driving. I'll hopefully get home around dinnertime.
This was a great trip. I'm so glad we got to be together.
Then I brought my backpack and suitcase to the living room, near the couch where I'd be sleeping that night.
After breakfast mom started the laundry while I gathered more of my things into the living room and loaded my steno machine into the car, then we drove to Agape to drop off freshly washed dish towels and some can openers (homeless people need can openers pretty often) and pick up a few things about to expire that Kayle's family could help finish off when they visit (Cheerios, stuff like that).
At the grocery we picked out a lot of food for them for the week, mostly healthy stuff but a few special treats. Just like how I requested a peanut butter whoopie pie, Kayle always asks for Country Maid doughnuts, which you can only get in PA (since 1894 supposedly). We found them along with a few other goodies, then headed home to stock the fridge and eat lunch.
Then dad came home from work early, because he and I were driving to Philly to pick up Kayle, her husband, and her two children from the airport. Before leaving we tried to assemble some of the baby furniture and the new carseat; doing this had me flustered and irritated in a matter of minutes. I've assembled loads of two-person IKEA furniture items all by myself, but baby furniture is a whole 'nother category. A lot of it does not make ergonomic sense during assembly because assemblage has much, much more to do with safety for the baby. Which is understandable, but also NOT understandable to the logical parts of one's brain.
I stomped off to pick up hoagies for us for dinner, and when I returned it was time to go.
Dad and I spent the two hour drive chatting about this and that, he wanted to talk politics but I was pretty standoffish and kept shutting him down with curt or noncommital responses. Sadly my dad, in typical "old white guy" fashion, loves to complain about all sorts of things without presenting a single solution or taking any action himself. I love my dad, but this behavior annoys the crap out of me, from anyone. Today I tolerated him whinging about the state of New Jersey building a big statue of George Floyd, and when he got to the part in the conversation where there are social cues for me to agree or disagree with him, I responded with, "As a resident of PA, did your tax dollars go toward this statue?" and "Do you know when the proposal for the statue was presented, and who showed up to oppose it?" and of course he either can't answer that or has to back up and admit that, truly, New Jersey spending it's money on a statue has zero effect on his life. Nor is/was he willing or able to do anything to prevent said statue from being built. If he had gone to the hearing himself and petitioned against it, and sold his house and poured all of his life savings and time and effort into stopping that statue from being built, the results would have been exactly the same.
So why b*tch about it?
Why have any opinion on it at all?
I see this type of aimless negativity in a lot of my older friends, and it drives me NUTS.
My dad will never stop, though, so at least I do listen and try to express that I respect his views. That's truly all I can do when he gets into this negative, curmudgeonly complaining mode. God, I hope I'm not like that when I get old. Plain old nonpolitical vanilla whining will hopefully be good enough for me.
Our other discussions were pleasant, though, and passed the time nicely. We talked about work and nature and family and philosophical things. I do enjoy and treasure talking with my dad, when it's a TALK and not just him complaining about things that do not affect him whatsoever.
Finally we got to the airport, and it happened to be right on time as Kayle's flight was just landing.
We only waited about ten minutes before we saw them walking toward the van with their luggage.
Getting everyone settled took a little time, and then Drexel had to be fed, but soon enough we were off!
Another two hours in the car! And poor Kayle and Skylar had been up since 4am, UGH. I could see how tired they were.
But we ate our hoagies and had a good long conversation about how everyone is doing. I actually felt like I hogged the conversation with stuff about my life, but the thing is that Kayle's husband can't talk about his work (government stuff) and Kayle's not currently working, my dad needed a break since he'd spent the last two hours talking to me, so once we chatted up their current life events I spent a good part of the trip describing how much my work has changed, relating what Jameson's up to, and going on and on about bread again. Everyone loves those bread pictures, I wish more people got to eat it with me!
We got home just as the kids were starting to complain, and there were enthusiastic greetings all around.
Elliotte has gotten so big! Here is my mom holding her shortly after we arrived.
While Kayle and her husband unpacked, I held Drexel and walked with him around the house.
Dad insisted on taking this picture, I resisted but it turned out to be a good idea because we never got another photo op.
Mom took Elliotte outside to keep her occupied while dad got to work building a fire in the fire pit.
I had a few emails to send (a possible gig popped up, if anything comes of it you'll hear about it later) and then I joined everyone outside where we sat together and enjoyed the fire, the clear cool night, and each other's company.
But the flights and drives had been long and everyone was tired, so after just an hour we went inside to go to sleep.
Elliotte is two years old, and a total whirlwind of a toddler. She's naturally very curious, very energetic, and pretty much ran around the house getting into EVERYTHING. We thought we'd done a good job childproofing until she actually got there! I felt exhausted just trying to keep an eye on what she was doing, never mind having to think about getting her ready for bed. Was I that crazy when I was two?? Woof!
While Kayle and her husband got ready for bed I read Elliotte a bedtime story. Something about a kitten cowgirl with a sparkly horse and a magic noodle lasso...look, it doesn't have to make sense. I read it with my best Southwest accent and sound effects, and she really seemed to pay attention. She even asked me to read it a second time, which I gladly did as it would keep her still for just a few more minutes. At some point in there Kayle finished her toilette and hovered around us, snapping pictures and gushing about how cute we were.
Finally it was actually time for bed, at 11pm. Just these few hours with the kids made me feel EXHAUSTED.
As I hugged my parents goodnight I whispered, "Good luuuuuck!" and they sighed heavily, but with smiles on their faces. The next two weeks will be hard on them, but they love their grandkids and I know they're glad to have them here. After hugging Kayle and her husband, Kayle insisted on a few more pictures of Elliotte and I together since I was leaving early in the morning.
Mom said, "Smile!" and I looked at Elliotte and said, "No! Stick your tongue out!"
Bad Aunt Megan has to represent, after all :P
But we did give them one nice picture as well :)
I got very little sleep, but that did not surprise me at all. I kept waking up when I heard Drexel fussing, and once I had a dream where my mom was being irresponsible while holding Drexel and she fell on top of him. In the dream he was OK, but I was LIVID, and began RAGING at her in this dead calm-sounding, furious tone about how her grandkids are not inanimate objects. I woke up gasping because apparently I was so angry I was holding my breath in my sleep!
This dream was borne from worry. My mom has glaucoma and can't see very well, and she's also very scatterbrained. In my mind's eye, it's very easy to see her forgetting to latch the basement gate and curious Elliotte falling down the basement stairs. Or forgetting that Drexel is sleeping in the basinette and dumping a load of towels on top of him and walking away. She would be furious that I'd think that of her, but unfortunately it's at least partially true. I just hope everyone gets through the visit unscathed. Argh.
Finally it was morning. I packed quickly, thanked my parents for the wonderful time together, hugged them one last time, and left.
Although Kayle and I had tried to coordinate our visit so that we'd be there at the same time, I'm very glad we ended up staggered this way. I think it would have been too many people in that little house, too much chaos, and selfishly I have to say I would have lost my mind and my patience way too quickly with the kids around. I have ZERO interest in interacting with children. That said, I will always help as much as I can, but I am just not a caregiver whatsoever and ultimately cannot be relied upon to prioritize the kids' needs first. Which is exactly why I'll never have kids.
There was one last thing that I wanted to do before truly hitting the road.
I wanted to get some home-grown flour to feed "Dough-Malley"!
A few days earlier I had poked around the locally-owned shops, asking if anyone knew where I could get local flour. Eventually I found Small Valley Milling. I gave them a call and had a cheery conversation with probably one of the owners, who talked my ear off about how great spelt is and how all of their flour is grown and milled right here. He said that they generally fill wholesale orders, but he had no problem selling individual 5-pound bags, so how about I swing by? I said I would. And so I did.
The GPS took me on winding roads through the very heart of Pennsylvania Dutch country.
You might think that places like Redding and Hershey are the PA Dutch and Amish hotspots. Population-wise and tourist traffic-wise, you'd be right. But there are little boroughs all over the state where Amish culture can be found in it's natural, un-monetized form.
This mill was tucked away in the Appalachian mountains, in the rolling hills of farmland pocked with industrial iron mines, coal mines, and limestone quarries. There are many people living in those hills but you can tell the Amish houses by the lack of power lines running to the homes, and by the construction of them: all big farmhouses clean and neat-looking, with laundry on the line and horses in the yard or stable. As always when driving through the mountains, I wanted to soak in the gorgeous scenery, but also didn't want to drive off the edge of a freaking cliff. Still, I managed to get a few pastoral views on the few occasions that the road was straight.
That is wheat growing on the right.
Because I was coming by so early, I called the mill again to give some warning and I'm glad I did. A woman answered this time and she sounded very stressed. I could hear the mill grinding away in the background, making it difficult for us to hear each other. Basically she'd gotten a pretty big order that needed to be filled quickly and hadn't been warned that some random individual would be showing up at her industrial workplace at 8am. I quickly apologized and told her to forget it, but she seemed to immediately regret discouraging me from coming and said she'd bag me some AP flour and have it ready when I arrived. Then she wanted to ask how I'd heard about their mill, and I told her I'm native to Bloomsburg traveling to Florida, etc etc, and she suddenly seemed truly interested. I explained my reasons for wanting local flour, and she suggested (no, INSISTED) that I take a bag of rye flour too, "We're very proud of our rye!" so of course I couldn't say no!
30 minutes later I was standing awkwardly outside the mill, the machinery screaming away inside while this tiny old lady approached me with two very fresh bags of flour. I paid in cash and she said now that I've got an account set up I can place an order any time, either through the mail or for pickup, just so long as I ordered ahead! I suddenly realized that that's where I'd messed up and gotten off on the wrong foot: I had called ahead, but I hadn't placed an order at least a day before arriving. Oof! All was forgiven, however, as we chatted pleasantly about wheat and rye and various breads and starters, of which she obviously knew loads more than I ever will, and so I listened attentively and with some level of awe for this woman who busted a$$ in a mill all day and grew her own grains from seed and absolutely seemed to love it.
Before walking back into the mill she pointed out her fields, visible up on a hill in the distance.
I held up the bag of rye that she had milled for me, and took a picture with those fields in the background.
And now it was ACTUALLY time to start driving. I had to work my way out of the mountains and back to civilization, where I ate a light breakfast and continued on my way. By 2pm I was at the garage in Virginia, where they had my tires installed and aligned in under an hour. By dinnertime I was at my aunt's house, and was able to get in via the garage. It was weird to be there without her or my uncle there! I had a nice meal of premade sushi and a whoopie pie (don't judge) then decided to go for a short walk on the jogging trail in her neighborhood. We've walked that trail many times, and it was a little strange to walk it alone, but also nice and much needed after eight hours in the car.
Frogs in the drainage ditch along the jogging trail:
https://instagram.com/p/CQhQqqNnZsG
The rest of the evening was spent uploading my disappointing steno practice hours for the week and decompressing by writing this blog and watching the Rick & Morty Season 5 premiere.
Tomorrow before I leave I'm insisting on stopping at La Farm Bakery for a loaf of bread since I won't have time to bake this week and since they have the best bread EVER. But after that it's 9.5 hours of driving. I'll hopefully get home around dinnertime.
This was a great trip. I'm so glad we got to be together.
