Autumn crept up

It seems like we were sitting around all summer, wishing for warm weather and sunny days, and while we waited, the leaves changed. Seeing the oranges and reds, and the apples turning rosy on the branches made me restless. Some people get depressed in the winter, or restless in the summer to get out and "do stuff". Not me. I get this itch as soon as I smell the wonderful hint of decay in the air. The leaves are dying, the year is dying, and I get an urge to pack up and go, to write, to bake, to create, to live. So I made up my mind to go camping.

It seemed like the universe was working against us. I got mandated for a 12 hour shift the morning before we went, Lilah was impossibly needy, Dano had class until 1:00 on Saturday, and I had to do all the cooking, packing, and errands alone and with a baby who followed me around the house, crying and holding up her arms. I finally got everything finished, and picked Dano up from the school. We got a quick lunch and headed to Munising for 48 hours. I was delighted to see our phones didn't get reception. I needed some time away from phone calls, facebook, texts, work, and drama. We picked a beautiful site by Pete's Lake and set up camp. I, with no formal training, created a beautiful fire and felt like I was starring on an episode of "Man vs. Wild". Dano, in setting up the tent, realized the poles weren't in the bag. We had to drive back into town and buy a new tent. I refused to let it get me down. Lilah played happily in her portable crib with her toys, for the most part. Unfortunately, she absolutely and utterly refused to nap. Not in her crib, not in the tent, not in my arms, or the car. There was too much to do and see, and she wasn't going to miss a minute. That got old fairly quickly.

We had a lovely dinner (even though Dano didn't like half of it) of baked chicken and spaghetti, and bakery-fresh Italian bread. S'mores were for dessert, of course, and Lilah even got a taste of marshmallows. Dano played songs on his guitar, and the music carried through the woods and over the water. The stars came out, the fire died down to embers, and it was beautiful. We went to bed pretty early. Lilah finally fell deeply asleep in her basket, and Dano and I laid in our tent talking quietly and listening to the sounds of the woods at night. He drifted off before I did (because I was sleeping on a rock), but I eventually followed.

It was a rough night. 3 different times, large, thumping, snorting animals stomped around our campsite and rifled through our supplies looking for food. They tore through our garbage (which contained only diapers and aluminum foil from dinner), snarled, fought, screamed, and hissed. I was sure a flock of bears was waiting just outside to kill us. Dano woke up a few times with me, tense and alert, but dismissed it as raccoons or porcupines and rolled over again. Pride would like me to say I did the same. Truth, however, prevails, and I did not. I shook with fear, sweat a cold, terrified sweat, held Lilah's basket close to me, and cried hysterically. Lilah never stirred. She was in a deep sleep until the sun came up.

We went on a hunt for local waterfalls the next day. After having a breakfast of stick bread filled with cream cheese and fresh blackberries, we had coffee in a wonderful local coffee shop/bookstore called The Falling Rocks Cafe. The staff was really friendly, took Dano's information to play shows there occasionally, Lilah charmed them, we had our great coffee, and we left. We strapped Lilah into the carrier (thankfully, she's old enough to go on our backs now! Much more comfortable), and headed out. One charged a small fee to get into the falls area, but the rest were free and, as God intended, nestled back in the woods. A few didn't even have signs to tell us where to go. We relied on the advice of friendly locals and helpful fellow-hunters. Some were visible from the road. Some were a short walk over a boardwalk. One was part of a city park. A couple (my favorite ones) were unmarked and a little deeper in the woods. I love precarious trails and steep inclines. I love having to work to get there. It makes it that much more rewarding to round a corner and see a waterfall in all its glory. Lilah even got to stand under one and get wet. She wasn't pleased. At all. I was consistently amazed at God's handiwork, and the beauty of creation. The most magical waterfalls we saw were the ones no one owned or kept up with. They were hidden away like secrets, and we found them.

Despite the "bears" (which were really a herd of very angry, very stupid raccoons), sleepless night, rocks under my ass, and tent fiasco, I have wonderful memories of our first camping trip as a family. I'd love to make an early autumn camping trip an annual tradition.

A monster has been created

Her name is Lilah Rose. She's eating everything! I was fully planning on exclusively breastfeeding until she was 6 months old. We've given her rice cereal several times when she boycotted bottles while I was at work, but that was the extent of it. Around the same time her first tooth came in a couple weeks ago (and another tooth st just below the surface!), she would nurse frantically while flailing and screaming until the milk let down. Typically, this took 30-60 seconds. She would proceed to gulp and suck down every drop of milk she could get. She emptied the breast in 5-10 minutes. She would repeat the performance on the other side. After both were empty, she would ball up her fists, screw up her face, and howl angrily and pitifully until I made more milk. Then she'd do it all again. It got so bad that I called the doctor's office and begged to be able to start her on some solids. I got the okay 2 weeks early.

I've been making my own baby food and it's going great. I created a monster, however, by saying, "Mmm!" as I spooned a bite into her mouth. I thought it was adorable and precocious when she started saying it back to me, or would slap her hands impatiently on her high chair, close her eyes, and yell, "MMM!" if I was taking too long to give her a bite. I always laughed and thought, "How great is this? She can tell me what she's wanting! Wonderful." When we were out for lunch at the Wild Rover, this new skill turned around and bit me. I was having a cup of soup and a pub salad, and I had no sooner lifted the soup spoon to my mouth when I heard a frantic noise coming out of Lilah's carseat. "Mmm! Mmm! Mmm!" I looked at her, and she was flailing her limbs in all directions, and looked like she was about to jump out of her skin. I gave her a bite of broth off my spoon and tried to take a bite myself. "MMM!" She was frantic and wide-eyed. I barely got to eat my lunch. She ate all the carrots and most of the potatoes, and a good bit of broth from my soup. What was once the first verbal communication attempt on the part of my child has now become a habit which often results in hunger on my part and her consuming most of my food. The good part is she's not nursing like a crazy person anymore, and she's back to 4 hours or so between feedings as long as she's getting solids. The bad part is I know I'm not going to get much to eat if I hear rustling from her seat and her shouting, "MMM!"