My Brief Experience Raising Kids, An Introduction

You hear it. Then you experience it. They grow up...

First peak.

This is a quick thought essay. It’s a little scattered. Sorry. Busy week. The first part is about the changes that come with parenthood. The second is about being in the woods with kids. I’d rather have just focused it all on the woods, but maybe I’ll touch more on that later. I’ve been taking notes for a larger writing project for years on the idea of Raising Kids. But so far this is background stuff I just keep in my journal. But I think it may be a project I tackle in a bigger way down the road. The pictures are all camping centric, because essentially, that is one of the central points of our lives the last several years. Enjoy.

When I was in my early thirties it started to happen more regularly. The message would spread from phone call to text message like wild fire. A few couples I knew had gotten pregnant in their twenties, but none of my closest friends. But when the early years of thirty something hit, pregnancy appeared everywhere. And it happened to us.

Other than marriage, I’d been master of non-commitments in life. I worked seasonal jobs that required very hard work in bursts, then allowed time to go do other things… mostly centered on camping, hiking, travel, and snowboarding. As a writer I looked for jobs that either allowed background free time, like a job in the fire tower, or, I looked for experiences that sounded interesting. Building cabins. Tree planting. Working for Raytheon. Things like that. (Raytheon? that is it’s own story someday.)

I’ve been interested for no obvious reason even to myself to Central Asia for as long as I can remember, perhaps a childhood with National Geographic gold framed magazines sitting around the house in an era of time pre-internet when scrolling meant flipping through magazines, books, or encyclopedias. So I’d begun a master’s program in geography here in Montana with the smartest person I’ve met who chaired the program back then. I was interested in working for either the CIA or a consulting company on energy security in Central Asia, and was on track for more likely the latter.

We weren’t actively trying to have kids. But we also knew we were not actively not trying to have kids. We understood the biology, and knew the potential was there. And then it “unexpectedly” happened. And we were stoked. But we also both, very quickly realized it was something much different, much bigger, than anything before. This was something that required commitment at a level we were not accustomed to. But we were ready.

The early days of pregnancy are strange and wild. As a man, you know you helped create this wonder, but it plays out for nine months in an arena altogether not under your control. Your partner is holding a thing inside that feels like a secret they are unable to share even if they want to. You can be there, you can rub her cramped feet, you witness the change in her body, you can be overly protective, but there is something going on that after you help begin is out of your hands for what seems like an eternity.

Then it happens. The baby is born. Birthdays are not forgotten. After a few hours that seemed like an entire day, there we were in our bed, sitting up holding this small baby. I honestly didn’t really like babies before ours was born. I still don’t love them if I’m being honest. An acquaintance asks if I want to hold their baby, I might simply shrug no thanks. Unlike many people I don’t think they are all cute. They can be a bit like aliens honestly. But I knew from the first second of seeing ours that I’d kill any threat to her without hesitation if it was required. That bond comes from somewhere I’d never known inside myself. Overnight I couldn’t imagine existing in this world without her in it. And I didn’t even really know her yet. Or did I? Made from the genes of my love and myself, I was fairly sure I did in fact know her already.

As the midwife packed up her knitting and other things we paused and looked at her. Where the hell are you going? Home, she smiled. I looked at El, I looked at the baby, I looked back at the midwife… But… There’s a baby here. What do we do with this baby?

She looked at us with the biggest smile. You’ll be fine, she said. You’ll just know. You can always call me, and I’ll be back tomorrow. And like Gandolf, a wizard who helped bring our baby out of my wife’s body and into this world, she just vanished with a smile.

And us, just sitting there, with this new human. She’d need a name. We had several on the table and one seemed to fit really well but over the course of the first few hours we tried several. While we leaned in a direction we decided to wait and make sure it wasn’t one of the others.

We had lost one of our dogs just a few months before Gretel was born, still a tragedy in my mind as that dog would have loved Gretel. He was the gentlest big lion of a dog I’ve ever known. Our other dog Uma did like Gretel but being a herder was a little suspicious and confused about the whole thing. But she was gentle and sweet if a little grumpy from time to time. Two weeks after Gretel was born we went on our first camping trip. Gretel slept with Uma on Uma’s bed, tucked snuggly between us in the tent. We realized something very quickly. Kids love to be outside. Kids love camping.

We’d seen others who had babies go into full protective, indoor mode. They cut off all the things they might otherwise do, perhaps afraid of exposing their newborns to the outside world. To this day I do to not judge other parents on how they go about their parenting because there is no more personal endeavor and whether you want it or not, when you have a kid, there is no more adult thing to take on than parenting. But El and I quickly realized and discussed out loud that we did not want to be over protective. Nor did we want it to stop us from the things we wanted to do, not only as individuals but as a family. We wanted to camp. We wanted to hike. We wanted to travel. And we’d learned quickly that kids are made of rubber, so there was no reason to not get them out there doing the things.

Just a few months into the endeavor, El had gotten home from work late, it was midnight or so, and we were winding down watching an episode of Twin Peaks. Gretel was asleep in the room, nuzzled on our bed when we heard a distinct “thud” from the room. Apparently they do not announce when they begin to move. We figured it out at that moment. Rubber I tell you. Only us old people over 30 have brittle bones.

Overnight my goals for employment changed. Suddenly working 60 hour week stints in Azerbaijan were not a thing I wanted at all. I had backed out of working the lookout, but decided to pick up the second half of the season because I needed something and those were, other than the few visits they made up to visit me, some of the worse weeks ever, as much as I liked the job, I detested being away. Every previous season I’d pushed past the end date with the approval of the headquarters, but on this season as soon as I was able I left the tower.

We began formulating plans. I got a job at a grocery store until I could figure something else out. It was in their wine department. I knew nothing about wine. I didn’t even care about wine. In fact my job as a fire lookout had been perfectly suited until having a baby because I did not really enjoy “people” per se. To this day, I like individuals, but I could do without “people.” My brain doesn’t feel suited for when it’s surrounded by more than a few individuals. But, I quickly learned I was good at approaching individuals and talking to them. Wine was not in my skill set, but it was interesting, so I dove in, and treated it academically. I met my friend Peter who sold wine to the store and every time he’d visit I felt like I’d taken a master class on wine. And I really liked him as a person. He seemed to understand where I was, and that I was doing a thing I didn’t necessarily love to make it work.

In just a few months I was working with Peter for the distributor. I’d take over the Missoula market so he could grow their business in Kalispell and Whitefish without having to make the drive every week. It was a job I’d never even known about, let alone expected I’d take less than a year ago. But here I was. And it was good.

The job required being out and about with people all day, every day and I soon found I was good at it. They gave me a big white van to drive around. My job was essentially to talk and help people learn about wine, whoever it was. The schedule worked well with El’s. She’d stay home during the day, and after I got home she could go work at the restaurant. We tried to make our few minutes all together count, even when brief. We always had morning coffee together, and that became the center and highlight of the day.

Meanwhile Gretel grew. As soon as weather permitted we’d take any free night we had and try to get in the woods. Being in the woods we were all at peace. Partly it was that we were all there. Partly it is that the woods has an effect on humans, not just babies but adults, and brings the mind down. No distractions. No cell phones. The sound of a creek or a fire or even just the wind.

Our best moments came in the woods. Our best times were happening outside. But with only a night or two, we always wanted more. But for a few years not too much would change in our schedule. It generally allowed for two weeks off per year. So we made the most of weekends and camped nearly every single one of them when weather permitted. If it wasn’t freezing cold, we were probably camping on the weekend.

Camping with little kids is only challenging at first. They are fairly happy creatures so long as they are fed and the food sits well with them, they are held, and they have a clean diaper. So you simply take the necessary tools for those things with you. In terms of being in being in the woods it is not an inconvenience for the kids, only us adults if you aren’t into it. But assuming you are, being in the woods with a baby is often far easier than being at home. You lay the kid on the couch and they are bored in minutes. You put them under a tree in the woods and it’s hours of entertainment.

Kids at times they get mosquito bites. There are burns. Both from fire and sun. Sometimes you get wet and cold and have to wait dripping wet under a tree that offers basically no protection. There were a few stings of unknown origin. But camping with kids leads to the ultimate camping experience in that you feel no need to do much of anything but sit around a campfire and do not much at all.

And then, as the kids grow you suddenly find you get to do more and more as their own personal range extends. Forts get built. Whittling becomes a hobby. Fishing is interesting. Climbing up rocks, and eventually trails up mountains. Being in the wild is perhaps the best place to learn some of the major lessons of life. It is not that it is “safe” it is quite the opposite actually. There are wild things about. There are stings to be had, ticks to pick off, scrapes and cuts to be dealt with, water to learn caution about, cold to be dealt with, heat to be… just to get through. The car breaks down in the middle of no where. Adaptability is one of the key lessons. Patience. Lack of control. And grit. But when you are with your family, and you are learning it all together, what better way to learn this not only for the kids, but for us as adults. When the kids were little we had another family that would often join in, and we became a pack.

After our second was born and time afforded a few extra days off we began doing longer trips. Two nights turned into three and sometimes four with frequency. During the summer we made it our goal to take at least a 10 day trip once, if not twice. By the time our oldest was in middle school we pulled off a couple years of spring/summer/fall with over 75 nights in the woods.

By this point our system was dialed and our kids didn’t blink at the idea of hopping in the car and heading to the mountains. Our gear lived in the back of the car. Our systems of food storage were dialed. Two coolers, one for actual cold, one for dry. A cook kit. An entertainment kit that include a fire bow, a compass, several cutting devices, ropes, extra stakes, a tire repair kit, saws, knives, nylon repair, first aid. Over the years we were able to use all these things and learn better methods as each challenge approached. If an afternoon lead to a free day, we hopped in the car, headed to the mountains and set up somewhere in the middle of nowhere, with no agenda at all other than to just be in the mountains and see the world play out.

On one trip into the one of the most remote roads I’ve been on in Montana, we successfully got three flat tires between two vehicles (with friends family) in one day. The math of this was not to our advantage. It required piling eight of us into one vehicle with the hopes of getting one of the flats repaired enough to get the car shuttled out on a Sunday. These challenges, like so many, are where kids see their parents face something hard. The kids are watching. The reaction and method of problem solving is worth a lifetime of books. This is where learning happens. This is where the world happens.

We had grizzlies wander through camp. We had a wind storm destroy our tent. We had a tree nearly hit our tent. We endured countless lightening storms in open high country. We slid, as a family, down a scree slope that ended up being far steeper than expected, teaching our six year old how to arrest in sharp scree. Cuts were had. Tears were shed. Limping steps were taken. Sometimes we carried them further than our backs would have liked. But as the kids grew, we went further into the woods and had more fun doing it. Hikes became longer. The peaks we climbed higher. Less coaxing with chocolate was required.

In the woods we all learn about the world from first hand experience. How bees pollinate. The sound of a mountain meadow with a million insects. How winds shift. What the clouds that precede storms look like. How little we are and how big the Milky Way is. These things can be seen and read about on your phone and in books, but it’s all essentially meaningless until you witness it first hand. The milky way as a concept is beautiful, but when you see it for the first time… And during those early years of childhood somehow we managed to get out more than even we realized at the time.

But there was change on the horizon. While we felt we were only beginning to embrace this incredible path into the mountains, something shifted with our oldest. She was growing independent. And of course that is the goal, we are ultimately raising adults not children, but it came to us as a shock when suddenly she had things she wanted to stay in town for, things she wanted to do, accomplish, people she wanted to be with. Plans that did not include us.

Just as we’d hit our stride with “months in the woods every year” the curve began to drop again, this time not for lack of time, but for need of the kids to have some say in the matter and need to do their own things.

Flash forward just a few years: now our oldest is (very suddenly it seems) in college. Our second is in high school. We still camp a lot by the measure of averages, but we are back to often shorter weekends, and bit more sporadically than before. We take trips, but they are shorter now. Those early years that I thought would go forever didn’t. That is the nature of life. When you are in a thick phase you can see no end in sight but suddenly the evolution takes a step, and you see it only when you can step back and take a wider look.

Our kids have an absolute love of the woods and the wild, and for me, that is ultimately all I really care about. And so many incredible memories of being with them in the wilds and abroad. Both know how to go into the woods and find a quiet that does not exist anywhere else. Both know the peace of mind that the mountains and wild lands brings when you need it most. While I selfishly would happily spend more nights in the woods, I see the days coming when I will have any and every chance I want, but it won’t be with them, not as often anyways.

When kids are little you feel like it is going to last forever. At times you feel it is “taking forever” - how long will this diaper phase go on?! How long until they can ride a bike? How long until we can hike an actual mountain? But the key is to trust the words “it goes fast” even when it feels it isn’t, and then focus on what you do have, what you can do, at any given phase, even moment, of parenting, because one day you look up, and you are sitting alone in your quiet house, wondering what they are up to, wondering if they are having fun, wondering if you gave them all the tools they need for navigating the world without you. Because we are in fact raising adults, not children. The goal is for them to move on and do these things without you. To raise another generation who appreciate the good things in life and enjoy a small corner of earth. And even in a life without kids I take this lesson to heart. Day to day isn’t to be taken for granted. The beautiful moments that are just seconds of an hours long day, those moments can make all the difference in how we perceive our own life. What a thing to be on earth.