I ‘m in the middle of another major edit, and this was where I stopped today, and I thought it would be a good one for Memoir Monday!

From Six Kids, Four Months and One Camper

. . . . .  .

I shrugged and pulled Earen out of the tub, drained the water and wrapped him up in a towel. I handed him off to Erik while I gathered his jammies and a diaper for bed. I walked back out and Erik was sitting on the sofa with Earen in his towel. Erik was staring at the blank TV.

“Kinda sucks the TV doesn’t work.”

I smiled, “yeah, but now the kids can do something OTHER than plant themselves in front of it all day, arguing about what to watch.” I took Earen and put a diaper on him then stuffed him into a lightweight jammie sleeper with blue and green elephants. I sat down on the sofa next to Erik, nursing the sleepy 5 month old.

Nuriel walked out and sat on the floor near us. “Mom, I won’t be able to sleep tonight! I’m too excited!”

I grinned deviously, “just go sit in bed honey, you can let the coyote calls put you to sleep!”

Right on cue, the eerie singular howls began erupting from not far beyond the camper. They were followed by answering calls from a group. Then a series of yelps, yips and shrieking howls. Nuriel’s eyes got big as the sounds seemed to travel closer to the camper.

“Good night!” She scurried back off to her room and shut the door. I looked down at the sleeping baby with half a boob still stuffed in his mouth. I carefully pulled it out, tucked it back into my shirt (Earen had a habit of ‘quick-sucking’ it back into his mouth on the way to bed). I walked into our bedroom and went to lay him down in his portable crib, but his bed was already full.

My crib playpen idea had worked marvelously. There was just barely enough room for me to squeeze between the corner of the bed and the crib. I had put it up and stacked a pile of blankets nearby. I knew we’d probably be here the long haul and none of us had any idea what to expect for winter.

Now when I had put the crib up, I hadn’t been able to find the fitted sheet that attached to the bassinette portion, and had instead used a soft, thin blanket wrapped tightly around the bottom insert. It must have been quite cozy, for now both cats had decided to use it as their bed!

I scurried back out, desperately hoping I wouldn’t wake the sleeping baby.

“Hon!” I whispered. “I need your help! The cats are in Earen’s bed!”

Erik not-so-quietly got up and shooed the cats out of the crib and bedroom. Baby Earen stirred a bit in my arms and his eyes began to crack open. My heart began pounding and I could feel the heat of my blood pressure rising as I started to panic. I began bounce-rocking Earen and “shush”ing him on the way back to his crib. I ever-so-carefully laid him down into his bassinette crib. His eyes shot open and his arms flew upward, which startled him more and he began to cry.

At this point my blood-pressure had reached a fever-pitch and tears began to well-up in my own eyes! It had been way too long of a day, and tomorrow was sure to be just as exhausting! Trying to think fast, I put my hand down into the base of his bassinet and began to rock it back and forth. It was basically free-floating inside the crib which allowed it to rock a bit inside of the crib walls. Baby Earen’s eyes slowly began to lower and his arms lay planted up by his head.

I had spent every night for the last 5 months working to get Earen to sleep fully through the night. He had finally accomplished that goal over the last month despite our crazy schedule with moving. As I stood not daring to move, I looked at his peaceful face and wondered how well this co-sleeping arrangement would work. It wasn’t that I minded co-sleeping . . . I just didn’t like not getting any sleep! We had tried putting his crib in our room when he was younger, but Earen was always waking up Erik, and Erik was always waking Earen. Neither was happy about it, so baby Earen went into a separate room in the house and everyone finally managed to get some sleep. Now it seemed we were back to where we started.

I carefully closed the bedroom door and shut the bathroom door in the living room partway to allow the cats in. I looked around. Where was Erik? Using the potty? I stuck my head outside and there sat Erik on the deck, a Red’s Apple Ale in his hand as he stared at the stars overhead. He looked at me and quietly patted a chair next to him.

“How bad are the mosquitoes,” I asked looking around as I pulled my chair closer to him.

“Haven’t really seen any. I think we had more at the old house because it was in the woods and surrounded by swamp.”

“Yeah well, we have a huge swamp right behind the camper, and grass everywhere. I’m SURE there are mosquitoes here, they just haven’t found us yet,” I wryly replied.

I looked up at the stars overhead. “Wow. I’ve never in my life seen stars this bright! Look, you can see the Big Dipper! And there’s Orion!” My mouth hung open as my eyes stared upward at the stunning jewel-like lights overhead. It made your head spin trying to look deeper and deeper into the great foreverness of the skies. Thinking about how each star had at least one planet or solar system similar to ours. Staring-up at them, the sky seemed to swallow you whole. I thought of all the city people who got excited just seeing one star in the sky (usually the “stars” were actually satellites). Most of them lived their whole lives never seeing “the Great Beyond” even though it sat right over them. I felt decidedly blessed.

The few cars that did pass by our property driving down the road at the far end of the hayfield a good 500 feet from us, did so slowly — no doubt staring at the lights on in the camper, wondering if someone was finally living there. I’d smile politely and wave as they went past. I wanted them to know I was watching them right back!

We talked a bit more, and stared up at the sky several more times, drinking-in the beauty overhead before finally climbing back into the camper to brush our teeth and try out the bed for the first time. Erik was the first one into bed, and he thrashed and bounced around as he wiggled deeper under the covers. I had just managed to get my pajamas on and wiggle down into the covers when Erik popped his head up.

“Did you add more gas to the generator?”

“Um, no. How could I? You’ve been with me the whole night!” I stuffed the sheet tighter around my neck. It was way too hot outside for full blankets!

“Well I’m sure it’s not going to last the whole night, and I have to charge my phone, so go out and check it.”

“Why can’t you?!”

“I’m all snuggled-up and cozy in bed! Besides you’re faster than me. I’m sure you can go out and come back in less than a minute!”

I growled quietly at him and threw the covers off me and tromped back out to the living room. I found my pair of tennis shoes and went back outside onto the deck. It suddenly occurred to me that we didn’t have a flashlight. Well, we USED to have several, but the kids of course had run off with them all – despite each of them having gotten their own just a few months prior! Lucky for me it was a clear night, and the moon was offering just enough glow to dimly light my way. I could hear the generator running as I rounded the side of the camper. Then it began to make a strange “burrup!” noise. “Burrup! . . . Burrup! . . .Burrup!” I began to walk faster, not watching very closely where I was going, and stepped right onto our old pee bottle. It threw me off-balance enough that I stumbled a few steps, then tripped in the tall grass at the edge of the small ridge just 10 feet from the camper. I fell/rolled down the short ridge, catching several blackberry brambles on the way. My cheek stung and I could feel tiny prickles in my jammies.

The sounds erupting from the generator were sounding more intense so I quickly scrambled to my feet and ran the last few steps to the generator. I peered down at the gage. It was too dark to see anything. I opened the lid and watched the moonlight partially fill the insides. I couldn’t see any liquids glistening. Maybe if I added some gas to it I’d get a better idea of how full it was. I looked around. Where was the gas can?

“Shit.” I muttered, remembering. My hands flew to my mouth and my eyes got wide. I swore! I never swore, not even with my crazy ex-husband! Why was I swearing now?! I pondered this as I trudged back UP the small ridge to fetch the gas can next to the porta-potty. We had filled the canister on the way over here to make sure we’d have enough. I picked-up the 5-gallon container and waddled with it down to the generator. It sputtered out the second I set the jug down.

“UGH!” I shouted at the sky. I dropped to the ground in panic. Shit! I’m going to wake the baby! Then I’ll really be in trouble! Crap — I just swore again!

I held my breath off and on for several minutes, straining my ears for any sound of the baby waking up since the generator sat directly behind our bedroom window maybe 20 feet away. All I could hear was Erik rolling around in bed. I finally took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then I stood back up, uncapped the gas can and the generator and filled it as far as I dared to go with my moonlight flashlight.

This was a pull-start generator. And I am known for being terrible at pull-starting anything! My arms are just too short to get any sort of leverage! But I had managed to re-start it several times with Erik earlier, so it shouldn’t be too hard. I figured I wouldn’t need to prime it since it had just been running a few seconds ago. I switched it to the “off position”, then back to the “On” position just in case. Then I began pulling the pull-cord. One! Two! Three! . . . . . Nothing. Four! Five! Six! . . . only silence.

I was getting out of breath and my arm was already beginning to cramp. After all, I had been moving furniture all week and had spent all day moving the heaviest of objects! I jumped up and down in frustration and smacked my head a few times.

“Idiot, idiot, idiot! Why can’t you just do it right the first time! You knew it was running out of gas yet you didn’t think to grab the gas can at the start?!” I was pretty good at criticizing myself. With all the forgetting, messing up or ruining things I was always mad at myself.

I took another deep breath and sat down in the tall grass. I stared at the vivid beauty of the stars. God made those stars. He made those stars because He Himself is beautiful and wonderful and they are only a tiny glimpse of His own beauty. I stared hard into them. I could just make out galaxies millions of miles away, each galaxy another cluster of stars.

I could do this. It was a beautiful night. It wasn’t pouring rain, or snowing, or blowing crazy cold wind. It was quiet and warm. And I was complaining about the generator not working? So what if I didn’t get it working? The camper wasn’t going to explode . . . although Erik might if his phone didn’t get charged.

I thought about it more. Maybe it DID need to be primed. It HAD run out of gas after all. It wasn’t like the circuit had been blown. I flipped the switch to “choke” and began to pull again. The first two tries were not quick enough. Three . . .  Four . . . Five! It gave a cough, telling me to try again. I flipped the switch to half-choke and pulled again. Six! It finally sputtered on, choking on its fresh supply of gasoline. I flipped the switch to full and it roared to life, happily chugging along. I put the caps on and walked back to the camper, proud of my problem-solving skills.

“This wasn’t going to be so bad,” I thought to myself. “I can do this — no problem.” I smiled, proud of myself and excited to take-on any new challenge I was sure to have thrown at me. I took my tennis shoes off inside the camper by the slider door, pet the sleeping cats on the sofa quick and opened the door to the bathroom and dove into the darkness.

Smack, “boing!” “Ugh!” I gasped, hand over mouth. The cats had been busy while I was outside and had kicked their closet litterbox door open. I had jumped right into the end of it thinking it was mostly shut. Tears welled in my eyes; I rubbed the bruising spot on my forehead, heart racing as I craned to hear if I’d woken the baby.

I could hear him thrash a few times. I stood holding my breath, “please, please God! Don’t let him wake-up! I’m so tired, could you please have pity on me?”

Baby Earen coughed a few times, then began to wail. I joined him. Tears now snaked down my cheeks. Yep, I certainly did it. Maybe I wouldn’t be able to handle this camper experience. I walked the last few steps into our room and scooped him up then we went back to the sofa to try our nursing bedtime routine again.

One of my favorite things to do when I’m bored is to scare people. Usually those people are my family. I’ve done this since a small child for reasons I cannot explain, but I love it even more as an adult.

Now, after 3 years of being scared, Erik and his family have begun trying it out for themselves. It’s actually a good thing. Learning how to be quiet, calculated and work your way somewhere un-noticed is a valuable skill for survival. On the opposite end, learning how t be constantly aware of your surroundings, noticing things sneaking around and hearing faint noises is also a key to surviving.

Unfortunately, I am the master of scaring. I am small enough to fit anywhere and I’m always inventing new places to hide. Between the two shower curtain halves, in the cupboard, under a pile of blankets on the bed, under the bed, next to the bed under a blanket overhang, in the curtains, and the list goes on.

Most everyone screams and jumps back. The one you gotta watch though, is my daughter Nuriel. This one will throw punches and kicks when you scare her. This, I tell her, is a good thing. But she still needs to notice me better.

Camper life was no exception to my scaring obsession.

(This one actually includes two different excerpts)

Six Kids, Four Months and One Camper

September 2013

Sunday we stopped at Meijer on the way home from church. We had to return the Redbox movie so Erik ran-in to get two rotisserie chickens and some sides from the deli. I loved not having to cook! When we got home, Erik ushered everyone inside saying he had to poop and didn’t want an audience. We didn’t think anything of his request as we were too busy fighting over what part of the chicken everyone got, and how many potato wedges everyone could have and “don’t forget Dad!”. Several minutes later Erik walked-in and none of the kids noticed his face, but I did! He had that funny, twitching smile he gets when he’s up to no good and trying to be secretive about it.

He pulled me aside in our bedroom. “I’m playing a prank on the kids, so don’t go into the potty. Let’s wait and see which kid goes in!”

I grinned slyly, “Oh good honey! I’ll play along!”

We nonchalantly walked back out to join the group and began munching away at the delicious fare on our plates (tasted all the better because I didn’t have to make it!) That’s when they all began to get up and clear their plates talking about going outside to play. Erik began to look nervous knowing he’d lose his chance to watch the fun if everyone was milling about outside.

I quickly broke-in, “hey could one of you guys get your Dad some toilet paper from the bathroom?”

“I will!” Eian said, but Abby jumped-up first.

“I’m going to Eian, sit-down!” Abby shoved him back into his seat, then jumped-out the door looking over at him, sticking out her tongue.

Erik and I snuck over to the window in the kitchen but couldn’t see well enough, so we just stuck our heads out the screen door. Abby walked along quite pleased with herself for beating Eian to the job. She grabbed the plastic handle of the door and struggled to pull it open. She started to go inside, then shrieked and jumped back several steps. She scowled and began walking back along the deck. We both jumped back into our seats and played casual.

Abby stomped up into the living room, “nice try Dad!”

“What Abby?” Eian asked with wide eyes.

Abby smiled slyly. “Oh Dad left a giant turd floating in the toilet! It was gross!”

Eian got excited. “Did it have chunks of corn in it?”

“Oh yeah!” Erik broke-in, with a sideways glance at me. I rolled my eyes, but he was playing along well so I kept my mouth shut.

“I bet it’s not huger than the one I took the other day at school!” He called as he ran out the door.

Erik was trying hard not to give himself away with his snickering.

“Dad, WHAT are you doing?” Brea yelled at him hearing his snickers.

Erik snickered more violently. “Tshush! Brea, get down!”

Brea’s eyes got bigger as she hunkered down next to Erik and poked her head out the door.

Eian caught us poking our heads out and called to us confidently, “Come-on, it can’t be THAT bad!”

Eian opened the door and almost jumped inside in his effort to see the “turd”. The door suddenly burst back open and Eian ran out yelling. Erik had stuffed a very realistic-looking squirrel dog toy in the far corner of the potty.

He looked-up and realized we were laughing at him, and Erik most of all.

“Not funny Suzanne! You didn’t scare me!”

“Eian I didn’t do it, your Dad did!”

“Very funny Dad.”

Erik finally managed to collect himself enough to poke a few coy comments at him. “Didn’t scare ya uh? Looked like it did to me! You ran outta of there pretty quick!”

“No, I ran because I was mad you guys played a trick on me!”

“Seriously Eian, you were THAT excited over POOP?” Brea rolled her eyes in disgust.

When there is no TV available to keep you entertained, sometimes you have to provide your own entertainment. That was just the start of the pranks. Everyone knew I was the master pranker of “jump out and scare you”. I could squeeze myself into anything and make the most horrific noises when I finally did jump out. Brea was usually my favorite target as she was both easy to scare and gave the biggest reaction.

Later that day, Brea walked out to use the bathroom. I quickly snuck outside and crawled under the camper where the steps were. The bottom two steps were solid wood – added under the metal folding ones to make a smoother transition from the ground. The top step was a metal, folding camper step, and I could reach through it easily. I only had a minute to compose myself, mentally pick my scary sound and position my hand before Brea would pop out of the porta potty and run up the steps.

Sure enough, in less than a minute Brea was out of the potty and running up the steps. Unfortunately for her, I was faster and caught her last foot through the steps, letting out a horrific, ear-piercing shriek/scream. Brea let out a horrified scream-wail and kicked furiously to release my grip on her leg, wailing more. I couldn’t contain myself any longer and let go and began laughing.

“What?! Suzanne!” Brea’s face popped under the camper to stare at me. “You scared me! I thought you were a possum or a raccoon!” She helped pull me out and shook her head. “Great hiding spot though. You gotta get Abby. No one has scared her yet!”

I looked at her devilishly, “Oh don’t worry, I’ve got plans for her too! Maybe not today, but sometime!”

*****Except number 2********

October 7, 2013

A great way to begin any Monday is by having to process up a deer. Again, this was one of those things that some guys can do in under an hour. Not me. Thanks to my small stature, man-handling a deer weighing more than me was a difficult task. Even pulling the hide-off was a feat due to my tiny hands . . . and my insistence of perfection. I had plans to someday tan this hide (and any others) and it had to be pulled-off the deer perfectly. I began on a step stool to reach the neck, then worked my way down to the back legs. Once it was off (minus the tail, I always managed to not catch the last tip of the fluffy tail!), I folded it in half then rolled it up and put it into a garbage bag, then into a cooler filled with ice. Randy had already said we could use his extra freezer at his house to put our meat and hide in, I just had to keep it cold until then.

Flies were buzzing around my head, and the weather was coming into a brief warm spell. I had to get this deer cut-up before the meat went bad, or the flies got into it. Hmm . . . I looked around as I kept trying to swat the flies off my deer. Now that the hide was gone, all that tasty deer meat was drawing flies like a dinner bell. I looked down at the roll of garbage bags and had an idea!

I took my knife and began slicing them down the seams. I laid the sheet of plastic around the deer, covering all exposed areas I was not cutting. The flies were pretty ticked off! This deer was already quite fattened up for winter, no doubt thanks to the neighbor’s corn field. I peeled-back the plastic covering her back and began chiseling off the thick, hard fat along her spine, exposing her back straps.

Now, I’m not sure what exact cut of meat this is in relation to other animals, but it resembles a tenderloin. Many guys insist you can remove these simply by running a thumb along the spine to loosen it, then pull it out. You can, but you leave a lot of meat behind. My goal in cutting-up any deer is to use as much as humanly possible. Last year I even cooked the ribs down for pulled venison.

I went to work skillfully cutting out both back straps and laying them in a gallon size Ziplock bag. The two hind quarters of the deer were tricky. You had to split the pelvis with a sharp knife then you had to detach the free hanging legs from the back tissues. They were heavy and every time you cut one off, you had to catch it as the heavy weight would always catch you by surprise, buckling your arms in and nearly dropping it.

Erik had cleaned-off the counter-top to his homemade workbench and it was sitting outside the round top with a hose at the ready. Since I didn’t have the needed counter space in the camper, this counter was going to be my processing station. I heaved the leg up onto the flat surface and carefully selected the perfect knife. My cleaver. I still had to hack-off the end of the leg with the hoof.

I stuck it out over the edge of the counter and with three hard chops, it fell to the ground, leaving behind the meaty portion of the leg.

I quickly went to work with my knives, slitting-open the muscle groups and making piles of them on the counter.

The large leg bones I tossed into a pile with the hoof, then packed the various meat groups into Ziplocks. I arranged them by roasts, steaks and grind later for ground “beef”. I did the same for the other leg, then cut off the front shoulders and finally all the neck meat.

It took me several hours, but I finally got it all done. We would be having steak for dinner tonight!

Now since I wasn’t sure yet what Erik wanted me to do with the rest of the carcass, I just left it hanging in the hay shelter. He told me the next day to go bury it out back (thanks). However, this was also the day the kids came back from their Mom’s house, so I wasn’t in a rush to cover it in the ground. As the first set of kids got off the school bus and walked up the driveway to the camper, I popped outside quick to ask Brea to get me the horse’s lead rope out of the hay shelter. I wanted to walk the dogs and couldn’t find their leash.

Brea nodded and dropped her backpack off on the deck then walked over to the round top. She unzipped the front door then walked-in . . . screams of bloody murder erupted from inside! Brea came running around shrieking in a high-pitched voice at me that I was a horrible person. Abby stood there laughing at Brea as Brea’s voice reached such a high pitch that only the dogs understood what she was saying.

“Why do you always get me?! Why not Abby!?” She laughed as she lightly shoved me, then dragged her backpack inside with her.

We had done the same thing last year at the old house. After cutting up the deer, all that was left hanging on the rope was the head. We had taken the head and stuck it inside a large bin behind the house, then set-up the video camera. When Brea got home from school, we asked her to get some bird seed out of the bin to feed the birds. At first she stuck her hand in before looking. When she felt something furry, she shrieked and then looked in. She screamed seeing the deer head with his cold, glassy eyes staring at her and then fell to the ground in a tight ball, crying and sobbing. When she figured out Erik had planned the whole thing, she chased him around the yard trying to beat him.