Solar Panels Are Silent

Going camping with The Engineer isn't the same as going camping with other (as in “normal”) people. The Engineer doesn't have generators to re-charge the camper's batteries, he has a solar panel. 

What? You can't see it?  Good.  It's camo.  Follow the yellow extension cord...

There are distinct advantages to camping this way.  Generally, campgrounds have posted hours for when you're allowed to fire up your diesel-powered loud as all get-out stinky generators so that you can watch your satellite TV, use your microwave, and probably other luxuries requiring electricity which are the activities I go camping to get away from. I really don't understand these people who fire up theirs at the minute they're allowed in order to microwave their breakfast.

Full, bright, free, QUIET sunlight re-charging our batteries

Maybe I'm a snob because we camped in tents for years, just the two of us, then with babies, who became toddlers who became small children. We didn't get our camper until the boys were 5 and 8. I'd already done the potty chair, high chair, porta-crib years, in a tent. I think I earned my camper fair and square.

I've been referring to our “rig”, so I finally took some pictures.

The camper is a 1968 Forrester, and 

The Beast is a former Department of Corrections vehicle. If you look closely at the door, you can see the outline of what used to be the identifying sticker. 

It seats 12, and still has a whole station wagon of cargo room behind the third bench. (We threw the firewood back there.) It's nice when you can separate your children by a whole bench ;-) though it's not as necessary now that they are teens. They behave reasonably well most of the time, I'm happy to say.

So how does the solar panel thing work? It has an extension cord so you can place it in maximum sun, and that connects to the solar charge circuit, which connects to the battery bank. For this trip, The Engineer even had time to install a special volt meter with a read-out. He's been very “are we there yet?” with that particular device, asking whoever happens to be able to see it at the time to report the voltage. We've teased him of course. “Hasn't changed in the last THIRTY 

SECONDS!”

OYT sure enjoyed this particular trip. He saved up a LOT of money to buy this RC truck.

The terrain right at our campsite 

couldn't have been better for “off-roading.” He even took the truck on the hike, and found a “river” to cross. (Don't try this at home kids because this one was protected by 7 man hours of waterproofing by The Engineer and son.)

I don't know how many more camping trips The Transporter is going to be willing to go on. He's jonesing for his XBOX 360, and to chat online with his friends while killing mythical monsters. A solar panel may be quiet and get the job done for us, but it won't do my CPAP and his gaming. Guess who won?

~Tina

P.S The RC part of this post was written by OYT.

P.P.S After reading this post, The Engineer would like me to add that the solar panel could CERTAINLY do both.  Not that we'd let The Transporter bring his XBOX...

Finally Camping!

After waiting for this since the season started in March, we are finally going camping this weekend. I'm so excited! We're heading for the hills, just outside South Park, CO (yes, it's a real place) at 9,900 ft. Blissfully cool weather. Campfires. Relaxing in nature. It's been a helluva (unplanned events...) summer, and a helluva week getting ready for school, which starts tomorrow. Get home quick boys, and let's get going!

Have a great weekend friends!

~Tina

Of Course I'm Perfect, Part 2

Ok, so it's not my worst parenting blunder. It's just my most recent. But oh does it highlight so many others that it's worth including in this category. Just so you know, I have an UNENDING supply of parental blunder stories to share. I'm human. And female. And live in a household of MEN. Men who could all be engineers if one of them would just get off his lazy buttocks and produce some actual work. Sigh. (Lost? See yesterday's post).

You know how sometimes you have to apologize to your kids because you screwed up and have to admit you did the wrong thing? I'm in that place more than I care to admit. So we've been camping (as you read yesterday) and are home, and I don't know about your place, but around Colorado we've been setting some serious heat records. I spent Friday packing, Saturday camping, ½ of Sunday un-camping, and the other half lying in my wind tunnel trying not to pass out. I'd forgotten to pack my asthma meds and the lack thereof had finally kicked me in the ass.

“Mom, will you make me some baked oatmeal?” This is a concoction that was served to YellowBoy at camp, and he's been living off of it since. I can just hear the conversation at your house right now,

“Mom? Watcha reading?”

“Some crazy lady who wouldn't get up off her butt and spend ten minutes to make a simple dinner for her son.”

“What was she not making?”

Recipe:

3 cups rolled oats

1 cup brown sugar

2 eggs

1 stick melted butter

1 cup milk

2 tsp vanilla extract

2 tsp cinnamon

2 tsp baking powder

1 tsp salt

Mix. Pour into lubed 9x13 pan and bake for 35-40 minutes at 350. It tastes like a granola bar, only it's cheaper and they drink milk with it. Adds up to good in my book. Which might not match yours...but there ya' go.

Here's where it gets ugly. At first I explain about the heat and the packing and the tiredness and the horror of heating the kitchen with the stove to bake. He just calmly looks at me and says,

“Mom, remember when you got back from being gone, and I asked you to make me a sandwich, and you said you're so tired from traveling and that I can make my own sandwich? And then the next day you said you were sorry and that if you'd been thinking of it the right way, you would have spent the five minutes making me the sandwich. This is like that. Can I have some baked oatmeal?”

Of course I cave. If something I did over a year ago has made such a big impact that he can quote me, then I've totally blown it. Baked oatmeal it is. Want some? It's a lot easier to eat than crow.

Of Course I'm Perfect: Part 1

The campground is waking up around me. Some wake up slowly, with whispers that I can doze through. Some are still asleep and nothing stirs at their place. I propose that they are people without children, or dogs, because the families with kids and dogs come with moms who yell, “Stop IT!” to the dog (oh, how effective that is, listen, he's STILL barking) and “Don't touch that to the kid!” (who gets that phrase repeated to him over and over and over again – much like the barking dog gets his phrase). Ineffective parenting bugs the crap out of me. Yes, I'm a perfect parent.

Ok, I'm not. I am, however, a parent who is observant, and since there's a lot of bad parenting all around, there are plenty of counter-examples to avoid, if one just observes how NOT to do it.

Don't tell a kid that, “If you ______ , then I'll________ ,” unless you really, truly mean it. The first time you don't follow through is like poking a tiny hole in a balloon and pretty much all your credibility is drained out in a few short encounters. “Well, she doesn't usually, actually _______ so I think it's worth the risk.”

Don't give kids treats to shut them up. “Ok, fine, have another ice-cream sandwich, just let me talk to ___________ on the phone and don't come in here again!” However, I'm all for a bribe. “IF you can leave me alone for ten minutes, and you sweep the kitchen and take out the trash, THEN you can have another one.” I'm not heartless, nor the sugar police, just trying to keep it real. And get my kitchen swept.

Listen to your kids. Don't tell them, “I'll talk to you later, right now I'm...” If they're actually wanting to talk, don't miss it. Wish I'd learned this one sooner.

Yes, it's really 2:30 am MST. Insomnia sucks. So does my writing at this hour, but I haven't posted in a week and so I'm back to the paranoia of people forgetting me...bad blogging...bad parenting...both bad...good-night.

What's your biggest parenting blunder? Willing to share? I'll share mine tomorrow when I can think more clearly.  You can probably tell right away where the part I wrote while camping ends and the part I wrote in the middle of the night takes over...