The 5 Things My Girls Like Most About Wichita

As we contemplated moving to Wichita, the girls were our primary concern. Would they adjust OK? Was it fair to take them away from their grandparents who they saw every day? Would moving them from the South keep them from ever truly understanding the vital importance of bacon grease and conversations that linger a bit longer than necessary?

Ultimately, we decided we wanted the girls have a more varied experience by living in different parts of the country. Our hope is that the girls will emerge with increased confidence and the courage to do hard things.

And for the most part, the girls are doing fine. Ellie is, well, Ellie. She still refuses to wear clothes, won't sleep an entire night in her own bed, fights against potty training like an angry wolverine and struggles to talk. So not much as changed. She's basically feral.

Harper is taking more time to adjust. Ninety percent of the time, she's seems OK. But her appetite has been off for the past month, and she makes frequent comments about missing her friends in Tennessee. Mrs. Hubbard, her awesome kindergarten teacher in Kingsport, gave Harper a picture album of her classmates, and we catch her gazing longingly at it from time to time. Talk about guilt inducing.

Since we knew the girls would need some help with the change, we wanted to provide them with some amenities to keep them occupied. So we bought a house in a neighborhood with a community pool, playground, fishing pond and tons of kids. We take them on fun outings on the weekends - the zoo, the children's museum, the boundless playground. We're visiting churches, and we joined the YMCA where the girls take gymnastics and adaptive recreation.

Playing at the playground. It rivals the one at Warrior's Path.

Boat ride at the zoo.

Eating popcorn at the children's museum.

Point is, we've tried to give them distractions to help with the transition. And while I think it's been helpful, these haven't been the girls' favorites aspects of living in Wichita. They've made no secret about what they like most about our life here in Kansas.

1. The refrigerator

Now we had a refrigerator in Kingsport. It was your basic, 25-year-old model that I kept hoping would die so I could justify buying a new one. Never did though.

The fridge in our house here is all fancy pants, complete with water and ice dispensers in the door. And as far as my girls are concerned, this fridge is mankind's greatest invention. I'm in no way exaggerating when I tell you they get at least two dozen drinks of water every day before the clock strikes noon. I'm not complaining - I'm glad they're drinking more water and less chocolate milk. But I am tired of finding little plastic cups half filled with water hidden all over the house.

Naked Ellie getting a drink.

2. The sink in their bathroom

We also had a sink in the girls' bathroom in Kingsport, but the one here is apparently much more awesome. (It's not really. It's just a sink.) Harper and Ellie come up with countless reasons to use it. They brush their teeth several times a day - again, not a bad thing. They wash their hands constantly. We've gone through two bottles of hand soap in the five weeks we've lived here. And they want to wash EVERYTHING.

Harper: "Mom, do you have any dishes that need washing?"

Me: "Harper, we always have dishes that need washing. Want to wash some dishes in your bathroom?"

Harper, with a huge smile: "Yes, yes, yes!"

And off she goes to wash her plastic water cups.
  

First toothbrushing of the day.

3. The bathtub

The girls really like the corner tub in the master bathroom. Truth is, I do too.

The girls have yet to take a bath in the tub in their own bathroom.

4. The dog's pink leash

I bought Annabelle a new leash before we left for Kansas. It's pink, and the girls love it. There's got to be at least 7,000 toys in their playroom, and they've played with this stupid dog leash more than anything.

5. Opie's tail

Not only have I tried to find ways to make the transition easier on the kids, I've also tried to make the change easier on our pets. Annabelle hasn't suffered much. She sleeps on our bed all day and occasionally gets up to scavenge food the girls have left around. She's good.

Charlie was used to going outside, but I won't let her do that here. The neighborhood is different, and I'm afraid she'll get lost. She's not a happy cat.

In a failed attempt to help, I decided she needed a playmate. So a couple of weeks ago, the girls and I headed to the Kansas Humane Society where we adopted a six-month-old kitten. He's orange, so we named him Opie. Seemed appropriate.

Opie

Charlie is less than pleased. She's an unhappier cat. So my plan backfired. But hey, I meant well and everyone, except Charlie, likes Opie. He's rambunctious and makes us all laugh. Actually, he's swatting at my hands as I'm typing this. Harper's cackling.

But it's his tail that the girls like most. Our other two pets have nubs, not tails. So Opie's tail has been a constant source of amusement. Fortunately, Opie is patient and has accepted the girls' fascination with as much grace as a cat can muster. Let's hope that trend continues.

Dust in the Wind & Other Weather-Related Fun

When we were looking for houses in Wichita, our realtor told us that some people buy property on the east side of town so they don't have to stare into the sun while driving to and from work.

"Wow. That seems extreme," I remember saying.

But after being blinded twice a day by the red-hot inferno in the sky, I imagine Nick is rethinking our decision to buy in the west. I need to get him a pair of those sunglasses like Riddick wears. Seems like the humane thing to do.

It burns us, Precious.

It's Always Sunny in Wichita 

No joke. Wichita actually averages more days of sunshine than Florida. We enjoy 225 days of sun each year, which makes it difficult for a hermit like myself to hide out, using rain as an excuse for my inactivity. (I guess that's why people here are so fit and tan, while I'm so pasty and rotund. Maybe our next stop should be Seattle.)

Given that it's usually sunny and the wind blows constantly, it's sort of like being at the beach. Unfortunately, the beaches of Wichita look a lot like this (and you have to watch out for tarantulas and apparently scorpions):

Cowskin Creek in Wichita

I didn't anticipate the wind being so constant, but it's always there, blowing from the south, usually between 10 and 20 miles per hour. One thing I haven't figured out is how the TV weather guy determines the difference between a "windy" day and a 'breezy" day. He makes a clear distinction between the two descriptions in his forecasts, but it seems rather arbitrary instead of based in actual science.

Breezy. Windy. Whatever you call it, it makes fixing your hair an exercise in futility. At least now I've got a reason other than sheer laziness for my hair to be in a ponytail.

Greetings from tornado alley

And I would be remiss if I wrote about Wichita's weather and didn't mention the tornadoes and hail that frequent the area in the spring. During our house hunt, our native Wichitan realtor told me not to be scared of tornadoes, just be smart and respect the weather. Seemed like sound advice.

"You'll learn how things look on the radar and that will let you know when you need to be concerned," she informs me.

"Ok, that's helpful. So how exactly will the radar look when I need to duck and cover?"

"Oh, you'll know," she says.

Nope, don't think I will. Fortunately, you can't miss the tornado sirens. They were tested yesterday and the sound came in loud and clear, even in my basement. I know. I checked.

The sky before a run-of-the-mill October thunderstorm in Wichita.
I don't even want to think about how the sky looks before a tornado.

Speaking of tornado preparation, a lot of the stores here have storm shelters, a fact that's as distressing

as it is reassuring. The shelter in my grocery is near the meat department. At my Target, it's the

I snapped this at Bed Bath & Beyond. In the event
of a tornado, consider me employed.

bathrooms at the front of the store. I'm making a mental list of places I frequent. You know - just in case.

A Spider Named Dave Meets the Brown Reclusinator

When we were moving into our house a couple of weeks ago, I had to rescue one of the movers from a very large wolf spider. He was honestly paralyzed by the sight of this spider that materialized from a dark corner of the garage. 

"Do you want me to kill it?" I asked him.

"Um, sure," he said, looking a bit embarrassed.

I took off my flip flop and whacked it. It was a big spider. I gave it two whacks for good measure. 

As I strutted away hoping to look like the stone-cold spider killer I fancy myself, I was thinking: "Geez. That spider was giant. Hope he doesn't have friends lurking about."

But he did. A couple of days later, I killed two very large wolf spiders in our basement. And this guy camped out just outside our back door for a bit. I decided to name him Dave. It seemed like a relatively harmless name for what I hoped was a relatively harmless spider.

Dave the Spider was much bigger than he appears.

Then we took a trip to Exploration Place, Wichita's children's museum. (By the way, this place was amazing. If you ever find yourself in Wichita, I highly recommend it.)

In one section of the museum we discovered some native Kansan creepy crawlies. It was the usual collection of snakes, lizards, tarantulas and insects that you see in museums touting local flora and fauna. 

Wait a sec. Tarantulas? I thought they only lived in the deepest, darkest recesses of the rain forest or desert or other place I don't ever plan to visit. 

Apparently not. Apparently tarantulas live right here in Kansas. Spider fans say tarantulas are basically harmless to humans. Nonetheless, learning that the Texas Brown Tarantula also calls Kansas home was most unsettling. 

As an added bonus, tarantulas leave their underground burrows during the fall months with the sole purpose of mating. In some places, you can actually see herds of them crossing the road. (I swear if I come across one of these swarms, I'm getting the heck out of Dodge. Incidentally, I might have rethought the whole Kansas thing if I'd been privy to this information three months ago.)

While the tarantula issue is terrifying and wolf spiders in my basement are scary, most troubling is the pervasiveness of brown recluse spiders here in the Heartland. Those speedy little suckers are poisonous, and apparently they're a real concern in these parts. 

Even though I hadn't actually seen a brown recluse in my house, I do have two little girls who, thanks to my propensity to name spiders, probably don't have a healthy respect for arachnids. 

So I did what any right-thinking person would do and called this guy. 

He's giving the thumbs up. He must be trustworthy.

That's Eric "Flint" Hills. He calls himself the Brown Reclusinator, and drives around in this awesome minivan.

No joke - the license tag says SPIDRMN. 

Name your price, sir.

Despite his somewhat ridiculous, but utterly memorable branding strategy, Flint knew his stuff. Apparently, the spiders you see crawling around your house are males in search of females, which like to hide out in attics and ceilings where they lay up to 300 eggs at a time. Great. So I may have hundreds of baby brown recluse spiders spending their infancy in my attic.

That was all the info I needed to let the Brown Reclusinator into my home. The annual treatment he recommended required a man in white, protective coveralls to spray spider-killing dust into my attic and basement ceiling. It also required us to leave the house for a few hours.

Now, take it from me, keeping two young kids, a cat and dog occupied for two hours is not easy. It's about as much fun as having a root canal or going through an IRS audit. See for yourself if you don't believe me.

So without a clear destination in mind, we headed to Sonic and everyone, including Annabelle, had a milkshake. Then we tried to go a playground where my placid, well-behaved rottweiler apparently terrified a mother so much that she quickly moved her children to a seemingly safer spot. (Surely I'm not the only person in Wichita with a rottweiler? I have seen an overabundance of little anklebiters yapping their way around my neighborhood, so maybe she is the city's lone rottie.)

Prefer afternoons on the couch.

But hopefully the brief inconvenience was worth it, and we'll be relatively spider-free for the next 12 months. Otherwise, the Brown Reclusinator and I will have to chat.

Prefers vanilla milkshakes.