The Camus Adventures of Powder Plots and Locked Roll Tops

The birthday weekend was one of those weekends…so chocked full with cleaning, cooking and cake decorating that adding one more thing to my to-do list was the furthest thing from my mind. I think this is where someone would pipe up, “But God has a sense of humor!” I disagree. God just wants Melissa Michele Sturm Camus to learn flexibility – again!

I had a lot to do on Friday. I had left much of the cleaning for that day so everything in my non-Better-Homes-and-Gardens house would “sparkle” for my visiting parents and in-laws (mostly the latter, of course). And while the cake was made, it wasn’t decorated. And there was laundry to do. And meals to feed two kids. And just the general making sure Ethan wasn’t going up the steps, Emry was sharing and the dishes were done. So, when the kids accompanied me to the basement to move laundry from the washer to the dryer, I didn’t mind if they stayed down there and played with the toys they have down there. I came up and started on kitchen chores, listening to them happily play and peeking down ever-so-often to make sure Ethan wasn’t climbing the steps.

“Mama, it’s a mess!” I heard about ten minutes later. I responded somehow, thinking Emry meant her blackboard which she scribbles all over and calls a mess. Ethan wasn’t on the steps, so I went back to work. Another five or ten minutes passed and I hear Emry again.

“Mama, it’s a mess!”

This time I figure she wants me to come down and see her artwork and since I was at a breaking point anyhow, I headed down the steps…and stopped.

At this point, two thoughts crossed my mind: 1) is this really what my life has come to?, and 2) the British should be grateful the Gunpowder Plot was unsuccessful.

Have you ever seen a room covered with about half a container of baby powder? Well, that’s what my basement looked like. Emry stood on her stool, powder container in hand. Ethan sat happily on the floor looking like a very cute, powdery abominable snowman. And my floor, the table, the shelf…and just about every other surface was showered with baby powder.

“Mama,” Emry declared yet one more time. “It’s a mess!”

At least is smelled good.

I wish I could say that was the end my adventures that weekend, but Saturday rolled around. I was getting the kids ready, my parents would arrive soon and Ed was gone on the rather arduous rounds of picking up his dad and then his mom and her “friend”. I looked at my beautiful roll top desk and realized the piles on it – Emry’s school, Ethan’s scrapbook, various lists, bills to be paid, taxes to be done, letters to be written and mailed – were not a sight I wished my in-laws to see. So, I carefully rolled down the cover but made sure it didn’t latch and so lock in place. Not two minutes later, I found something I decided to shove on to the desk, Emry took some toy away from Ethan, Ethan cried and I had to intervene. So, I have Ethan in my arms, I’m holding up the cover of the desk just enough to shove whatever inside and scolding Emry. That’s when it happens. I drop the cover and it latches. Locked. With the keys inside.

Since I’m sure you already think I’m an idiot for having the keys inside anyway, I won’t explain to you my perfectly logical reason for having them there. I’ll just go on to say that I had supposed that lock to be rather simple. The few times I had locked it, using the key didn’t seem to be a big deal. But I am very happy to declare that the lock is not simple and it would take a very good locksmith (or a pretty accurate skeleton key) to get into it. YouTube, picking-lock forums, calls to a local hardware and locksmith shop got us nowhere. I did find a similar looking key online and placed an order but for the next three days my lock picking skills were proved failures and I kept remembering all the things locked in there – thankfully not overdue bills to pay, taxes to do, my laptop, now-late birthday cards, my Bible study book, my ESV Bible…

By Wednesday I was nearing desperation and decided to try something that had crossed my mind but I was 95% sure wouldn’t work. But you know what desperation can do… I cleared off the top of the desk and lifted. I knew the top was a separate piece but I didn’t think it was light enough or attached in a way that I could lift the back right corner enough for me to maneuver my hand inside and wiggle the drawer out that held the key. To my surprise, it was light enough and did lift enough that I could prop it up with books, get my hand underneath, pull the drawer out and then push enough stuff out of the way that I could get the drawer in a place where I could get my hand inside, find one of the keys and pull it out. Success!!!!

Yes, yes, yes. The keys are now not inside the desk. I will be much more careful about closing it. And, I discovered something. I was under the desk trying to figure out if I could get up to the locking mechanism from underneath when I found an old sticker now barely legible that had the name of the company that made the desk. I had always wondered, but I don’t know that my grandparents knew or I had simply never asked. But now I can do a little research.

Especially since my laptop is no longer locked inside…

Ethan's First Birthday!

Today we celebrated Ethan’s first birthday. I think he was about as excited as any one-year-old gets about his big day. Both sets of grandparents came. He had his favorite meal. Emry generously helped him not only open his presents but play with them. And he was introduced to cake. Really, what more could a little one-year-old desire?

 Honestly, it hadn’t crossed my mind to get his silverware from his great-grandfather out yet, but he grabbed my fork the previous night and knew exactly what to do with it. The stabbing is a bit elusive, but he loves to eat with it!

Emry helping...

Emry and Grandpa Sturm helping…

The cake. (My skills are simply not improving…maybe he’ll like pie!)

 He ate so much lunch, he didn’t eat a whole lot of his cake. (But not to worry – Ed and Grandpa Camus helped him finish it!)

 But he did get lot messier than Emry…peek-a-boo!

Happy 30^th Birthday, Sally!

Emry and Sally decorating cupcakes.

12 Months!!!!

I realized yesterday when I was reading old blogs about Emry that my memories of her a bit more blury than I wish. But I do remember clearly that taking pictures was not this difficult. For while she may have tried to pull off the sticker, she did not try to slide out of the chair:

Or throw Sock Monkey:

  

Or take the sticker off every time I put it on:

I did manage to get a few goods ones – and called it a day!

My little man is a whole year old today. Like his sister, he is not yet walking on his own. But unlike his sister, he has been crawling for months. He can crawl “normally” now, but his military style is much faster and he can hold something in his hands while he crawls that way. He pulls himself up on everything: doors, walls, shelves, legs, toys, whatever! And, as of yesterday, he climbs both up and down steps. He’s been going up for ages, but the whole “feet first” coming down has been extremely elusive. And just because he can do it (and we did it several times yesterday – who needs a stair-stepper?), that doesn’t mean he doesn’t try to first come down head first. Like he does with everything. No thought. No pause. Just dive in head first. Why not?

As far as personality, he’s really a rather laid back kid. Again, like his sister. Nothing really bothers him, even Emry taking thing away. He goes with whatever’s going on. And if he doesn’t like something, he simply wanders off or throws it (as in food). He doesn’t sit still for long, but when he does he is working on his motor skills. He can put caps on pens, tries to put Duplo blocks together and was even trying to build towers with Emry and I yesterday, although knocking them down is much more fun. And while I’m glad to finally see some of these finer motor skills being improved upon, like everything you can tell he’s not giving it a lot of thought but simply doing. Engineer he’s not. Demolition crew? Well, someone has to make room for progress…

The Logical Conclusion

There have been so many times in Emry’s not-yet-three-years on earth that I wonder at what we consider logical. Because, so often, Emry comes to a perfectly logical conclusion on a matter…and yet is quite incorrect.

We have had several discussions on what my name is and what Ed’s name is. Like a child’s address and phone number, children ought to know their parents actual names. For “Mama” is not typed on my birth certificate. And “Papa” is certainly not on our marriage license. It’s been many weeks – maybe months! – since I last discussed names with Emry. And yet a few nights ago she stops in the middle of her play, turns to me and says:

“Mama’s name is Melissa.”

At first I thought I didn’t hear her right, so I asked her to repeat herself.

“Mama’s name is Melissa,” she said.

“Very good, Emry!” I applauded her. “And what is Papa’s name?”

“Ed,” she said.

“Right, Emry!” I said. “Good job!”

But she wasn’t done.

“And Ethan’s name is ‘Brother’,” she continued. “And Emry’s name is ‘Sister’.”

I couldn’t help it. I started laughing. For I could completely follow her logic. In fact, according to the logic classes I had in high school, it was irrefutable.

For if Mama = Melissa and Papa = Ed then Ethan = Brother and Emry = Sister.

Funny how logic works.