Destination: Oregon (Project 365: Days 177 - 180)

For the past fifteen years or so, my father's side of the family has had a reunion during the days surrounding the 4th of July. Each year, the family gathers at my grandparents' Christmas tree farm in the breathtakingly rural town of Alpine, Oregon. The farm, and the home located there, are now owned by my aunt and uncle who took over ownership when my grandmother grew ill and passed away in 2001. (My grandfather and his new wife, Grace, now divide their time between her condo in Palm Springs and her home in Everett, Washington.) This tradition began way back in '95 (my dad's guesstimate) when my father and my younger sister spent 4th of July in Oregon with the family who lived there at the time (my grandparents at the farm, my aunt and uncle, and their two sons, at homes nearby). They had such a great time, they started going back every year. As time went on, the party grew, and over the years it has become a full-fledged family reunion. Stephen and I have attended four times: in 2005, the summer before we married; in 2007, with nine-month-old Evan; in 2010, when Evan was 3 1/2 and Elinor 18 months; and finally, this year, with a 4 1/2-year-old and a 2 1/2-year-old in tow.

I've been putting off writing this post for a while now and I think it's because I had mixed emotions about the trip this year. In 2010, we had such a great time with the kids at the farm; we didn't want to leave. So this year, as July approached, I could feel the excitement building inside me. I couldn't wait to leave the suburbs of Sacramento and head to the lush, green beauty that is rural Oregon. Sure, I wasn't looking forward to the nine hour drive with two kids under five, but thoughts of zip-lining through the trees, hiking to Alsea Falls, and late-night talks around the campfire made my hesitations about the drive all but disappear. Until we were actually doing it. I won't get into the details of the drive, because honestly, I'd rather not revisit it. You'll just have to trust me on this: it was awful. I mean really, just super duper unpleasant.

The whole way there, I had one thought on repeat in my head: I just want to get to the farm...I just want to get to the farm...I just want to get to the farm...I felt like once we turned onto the long, familiar gravel driveway, everything would be better. And I was right. Just getting out of the goddamned car and stretching our legs a bit made things better. And then: the smiles and hugs from loved ones; the joy on my children's faces as they zip-lined and ran and jumped and swung on swings; the refreshing comfort of a mason jar filled with cold beer in my hand; the talent show and fireworks; the laughter and love.

The first night there was delightful, and filled with all of the things that made previous trips so special. However, when we awoke the next day, it felt...different. Due to Stephen's work schedule, we were the late-comers this year, arriving after everyone else had already been there two or three days. So while the festivities that took place the evening of our arrival were, to us, a great way to start the party, to everyone else, it was simply the culmination of the previous days events. The last hurrah, so to speak. Stephen and I were just starting to warm up, while everyone else was winding down, or leaving. Both of my sisters and their significant others, as well as my cousin and her husband, left that day around noon. I felt antsy. I wanted to be home.

The kids were having fun, but were also severely deprived in the sleep department (staying up late, followed by going to sleep in a tent with fireworks blasting above, and then waking to the sunrise). I can't stress enough how important sleep is to the general well-being of my children. Even with naps, they were unable to make up for what they lost during the night and as the day wore on, they got crankier and crankier. I hate it when this happens in front of family, particularly family you don't see very often. I found myself saying things like, They're not always like this. They're just really tired. I'm sorry. As if pretty much everyone there hadn't already raised children of their own. I'm sure they could empathize, but still. It was hard.

We arrived at the farm on the 3rd, with the original intention to leave on the 6th. However, at some point during the day of the 4th, I suggested to Stephen that we leave on the 5th instead, drive halfway, get a hotel room in Ashland for one night, and do the second half of the drive home on the 6th. Stephen kissed me, told me I was brilliant, and immediately borrowed my cousin's laptop to book a room. With this decision made, I felt a weight was lifted from my shoulders. I no longer had to worry about doing the horrible nine-hour drive home; breaking the drive in half seemed so much more doable. And getting a hotel room in Ashland meant that I would be able to put the kids down at their regular bedtime, that they would sleep well (they always do in hotel rooms), and that they would sleep in past sunrise (at least a little bit). With this new sense of relief, I was able to enjoy my remaining time at the farm a little bit more (except for one incident in the middle of the night when Evan wet the bed and was so dead asleep he didn't even notice and I found myself drenched in urine, my sweat pants soaked through, cold and shivering and, not wanting to claw my way through the dark into the house to find towels, I made it my one mission in life to make sure Evan was not too cold so that at least HE could get a decent night's sleep because I certainly wasn't going to now). Come morning, I was READY TO GO.

The drive to Ashland was easy, our time there pleasant. We ate yummy food, took walks around town, played at Lithia park, cooled our feet in Ashland Creek, and slept in beds. We were even able to spend a little time with a couple of Stephen's friends from Medford. It was the perfect ending to our trip.

Reading over what I've just written, I realize how negative it all sounds. And I'm okay with that. I don't want this blog to be a glossed-over version of my life. I want it to be honest. Still, I am happy for the photographs. Despite the troubles we experienced on this trip, there were many, many moments of laughter and joy, peace even, and the photographs help me to remember that...

Day 177: Finally at the Farm!

Evan headed straight for the zip-line upon arrival at the farm.

Elinor's face and hands are covered in purple ink, the result of her "entertaining" herself with a (non-toxic) marker during the drive.

The kids love the big trampoline, although it was the cause of a few injuries during our stay.

Daddy and Elinor preparing to ride the zip-line.

My turn to ride with Nori (Photo by SS (Edited by AS))

My cousin Sophie's hool-a-hoop performance during the Parsons Family Talent Show.

For his "talent" Evan slowly worked his way through a pack of Pop-its. You know, those little bags of gun powder you throw at the ground and make pop? He was so serious about the whole thing, it was really funny.

Watching the talent show (Photo by Evan (Edited by AS))

My Uncle Pete and my Dad.

Fireworks (Photo by SS (Edited by AS))

The gate to the vegetable garden and hen house.

The ladies of the hen house.

Day 178: Morning on the Farm (the tent on the right is where we slept)

Taking a morning stroll about the property.

Photo by SS (edited by AS)

Photo by SS (edited by AS)

A lively game of Spoons (my cousin Spencer was kind enough to give Evan a hand).

My grandfather (age 92) with his wife, Grace (age 102!)

This looks so terribly uncomfortable to me...Look at his toes! The kid was wiped. out. (Don't worry, I moved him to a more comfortable location after snapping this pic.)

Startin' up the three wheeler.

Sophie allowed Elinor to try out her paints.

 A birdhouse built by my aunt Patty's father. There were a couple of sparrows nesting in here. I tried to get a pic of them, but was unsuccessful.

More bird houses built by Patty's father.

Taking one last stroll, the morning of our departure (Photo by SS (edited by AS))

Cooling our feet in Ashland Creek.

Day 179: Siblings on Swings (Lithia Park, Ashland)

Sweet treats in Ashland.

Day 180: Web Climber (one last play session in Lithia Park before driving home)