A Utah Family Travel Writer's Adventures with Altitude
We’ve had swim lessons every day the last couple of weeks and tomorrow is our final lesson. As we were rushing out the door this morning, I told the kids to put some clothes over their swimsuits. Haddie came down wearing this.
Me: Hadley, I love that skirt.
Hadley: Both my swim suit and the skirt have marching wrinkles. Aren’t they cute?
Me: (Laughing) I think you mean ruffles.
Hadley: Oh yeah. Wrinkles are the ones you don’t want.
This weekend, our family did a road-trip to the mountains where we biked and pigged out at the Frisco Barbecue Challenge (more on that later). We fed Jamie his favorite breakfast (gingerbread pancakes with fresh apple marmalade) in bed. We showered him with homemade gifts. The dads had delicious pies at church. Really, our Father’s Day weekend would have been perfect.
If only the children hadn’t been invited.
Child #1: The Firstborn’s Death Attempt
One of my favorite places on earth to bike is around Dillon Reservoir, 70 miles west of Denver. We parked our car at the Frisco Adventure Park and rode the roller-coaster trail around the perimeter of the lake. I lagged back with Bode as Hadley surged forward on her new mountain bike with Jamie closely tailing her.
As Bode and I rounded the corner, we happened upon a curious scene: Jamie splattered on the bridge, his face lobster-red. As it turns out, Jamie had called out to Hadley, “Watch for the people on the trail,” which she loosely translated to say, “STOP, NOW!”
She gets her listening skills from me.
So Hadley slammed on her brakes and Jamie, in an attempt to avoid slamming into her, veered to the side, slammed on his brake and flipped over the handlebars, injuring the entire right side of his body (he has the scrapes and bruises to prove it).
Sensitive soul that she is, Hadley started to laugh that she had never seen him wipe-out before but after taking one look at the steam coming out of his ears, decided sympathy was the answer.
And that is why she is still alive today.
Child #2: The Second Born’s Lack of Love
For Father’s Day, we dined in our formal dining room and ate grilled rib-eye steaks, scrumptious berries, roasted garlic potatoes, fresh Lion House rolls and a variety of Ben ‘n Jerry ice creams.
Me: “I think we should go around the table and say one thing we love about Daddy!”Hadley: “I love that he takes care of us.”
Me: “How does he take care of you?”
Hadley: “He works really hard so we can have nice things.”
Me: “Bode, what are you grateful for?”
Bode: “I love that Daddy takes care of us.”
Hadley: “I already said that. You need to think of something else you love about Daddy.”
Insert long, pregnant pause with Bode deep in thought. Then finally:
Bode: “That’s all I got.”
Happy Father’s Day, indeed.
It’s hot in Denver. Really hot. 95-degree weather is something I’d anticipate in July but not early-June.
Hence the reason why the kids and I will be spending most of next month in gloriously cooler Canada.
In this kind of weather, I make myself scarce. I wake up early to play outside and hunker down with my air-conditioner in the sweltering afternoon. Today is one of those days but it’s also Sunday. As a family rule and part of our faith, we try our darnedest to “keep the Sabbath day holy.” This is a matter of interpretation but for us, we try to spend time as a family. We avoid sporting events, uproarious activities and shopping and instead focus on bettering ourselves and those around us.
And napping. I luuuuuuv my Sunday nap.
We look forward to this “day off from our labors” and it truly is a wonderful time to rejuvenate and refocus our attentions on our family.
Unless it’s really hot and your husband turns on the sprinklers to water the lawn. Moments later, I heard Hadley bolt up the stairs. Now, let me preface this by saying what Haddie requested is in that gray area of Sabbath worship but I knew it would ultimately lead to other requests not in line with how we spend our day.
“Mommy, can we change into our swimsuits and race around in the sprinklers?”“I don’t know, Hadley. Do you think that’s a very appropriate activity for the Sabbath?”
“I have an idea! We can sing church songs as we do it!”
In mid-June we start the onslaught of art and sports camps, followed by two weeks of swim lessons and then we’ll be in Canada for most of July.
The next two weeks are gloriously devoid of commitments and we are taking full advantage of them. Thus far we have seen PJs still on at 5 p.m.
Mismatched clothes….
….and a mother who is pretending she does not care.
A fridge stocked with lemonade and glorious fresh fruits.
Slip ‘n slides….
Bike rides in Cheeseman Park,
Slack rope walking,
Father-son sports bonding,
Crawdad fishing at Lakecrest Park with a bunch of kids from church.
(Hadley was the only girl getting down and dirty with the boys. I told her to play nicely because they are her future dating pool.)
Lest you think everyone is in a celebratory mood, let our thoughts turn to a very depressed Fat Kitty who is no longer allowed outside after his walk on the wild side.
We may have to make an exception to circumvent just how pathetic he has become.
Tuesday was the final day of school. Even though I’m looking forward to summer break, I was dreading the juggling act of work and home. For my final moments of freedom, I hiked Belcher Hill at White Ranch Park.
When I first got married and moved to Colorado, I was jobless so spent a lot of time exploring the local hiking trails while Jamie worked. I struggled with the transition but he tried to relieve me of my guilt by explaining, “I’ll earn the money and you spend it.”
I’ve never looked back.
Unfortunately he has and I’ve been working a lot lately, leaving little time for my favorite recreational follies. But on Tuesday, I needed a couple of hours to myself before summer kicked off.
As I started climbing, I realized this was the same hike I had done the day I found out I was pregnant with Hadley. Bursting with excitement, trepidation and gratitude, I remembered these emotions like they were yesterday.
And they became my today.
I reflected upon the almost eight years since that hike: all the highs, lows and joys of raising our family. My pregnancies, their early years, the first day we moved into our sparky new house and I thought, “I can never be unhappy here.” And I was right. It’s been the ride of my life since that hike and I would not change even one thing.
It’s no wonder that when I picked up Bode for his final day of preschool–the end of an era–that I started blubbering as we said good-bye to his dear teachers, Ms. Jan and Ms. Vicky, who also taught Hadley.
Next, we retrieved Hadley who was brimming with enthusiasm and her exuberance was infectious. Before us, we have 80+ glorious days to play, relax, travel and just be together.
And I intend to make the most of every, single one of them.
That’s right, folks: Fat Kitty ate his own invitation. Evidently he was still bitter over his traumatic photography session.
Haddie’s Fat Kitty-themed birthday party went off without a hitch thanks to my right-hand woman, Tina. There were games like the cats (kids) balancing the mouse (hard-boiled eggs) with a few uncooked ones thrown in to keep it interesting.
And then there was the tour on the darkest, scariest part of the house: Fat Kitty’s kitty litter box.
I didn’t clean it for the entire week, just to add to the effect.
And mostly because I was just lazy. No worries, though. The children’s kitty litter scooping contest involved Tootsie Rolls instead of poop.
Next time they won’t be so lucky.
All in all, it was a fun, low-maintenance party.
But the biggest question of the day: did Fat Kitty make an appearance at his own party? Fleetingly.
He’s still recovering from the trauma.
You will have to indulge me with my next few posts because they are for the grandparents to see the happenings of Haddie’s birthday party.
And also for me. I can’t remember what I ate for lunch yesterday, let alone parties from years past. Anything I do not record is forever lost in my cranial void.
For the first time ever, I read some of Haddie’s letters to her and I am so glad to have made that record the past several years. She grinned with delight, laughed at the various pictures and marveled at my writing, “Wow, Mommy. You sure use juicy words!”
I’d like that on my tombstone.
But anyhew, back to my grandparent indulgence. Haddie’s seventh birthday started out with a bang that included her favorite breakfast on the “You Are Special Plate” (raspberries, bacon and Einstein Bros. Bagel Poppers), a surprise lunchroom visit from me to deliver a piece of birthday cake….
….a picture with the uncooperative cat and a family dinner at Chuck E. Cheese.
Some of these things were obviously much better than the others.
I’m not one to go overboard on birthday presents but I did this year because she was in dire need of some items like a new bedspread, craft supplies and clothes.
Hadley also went crazy for her new Chameleon Crocs. I was sent a pair for each child to review at Mile High Mamas but never imagined what a huge hit they would be. The reason? They change color when exposed to the sunlight.
I feel seriously gypped Crocs doesn’t make them in adult sizes.
Aunt Lisa and Uncle Chris bought her a new cooking set (important for an aspiring Casa Bonita chef), my parents bought her a new outfit and her first watch (note to self: teach her to tell time) and Grandma Johnson got her an amazing easel from IKEA. Hadley has transformed her room into an art studio and is so inspired she is planning a curbside “Art Stand” to sell her treasures.
And so it begins.
Hadley,
I find it amazing that Aunt Tammy’s twin toddlers have swapped personalities several times since they’ve been born. You, on the other hand, have been a constant from day 1 (well, as constant as a Hurricane could be). Always spirited, ever stubborn, forever fun, unceasingly vocal and frequently frustrated with limitations placed upon you when conquering your world.
No wonder you were such an irascible newborn; who could blame you when you couldn’t even scratch the top of your own head?
You successfully completed first grade and have grown a lot this year. You’ve improved leaps and bounds in your reading, and love (in this order): art, gym and music. Your best friend in class is a darling red-head named Cameron who’s one of the smartest and cutest boys in class.
Thus far, I approve of your choice in men.
You’re a great swimmer, an accomplished artist and are excited for your week-long art camp this summer. In fact, you’ve already surpassed Mommy with your drawings. Disclaimer: It doesn’t take much.
Participating in Destination Imagination was another highlight because it combined some of your very best talents: Imaginative play, bossing people around being a leader and performing for a crowd.
Though you’re still bitter you performed in an uninspired classroom and not on the stage for the world to see.
While other girls are wasting away playing Barbies and other feminine fluff, you spend hours, days conjuring up worlds and parties for your many stuffed animals and Fat Kitty. You talk often of what you want to do when you grow up. Sometimes, you’re a veterinarian. Other times you are a crazy cat lady run a cat hotel. You’ve recently become passionate about cooking and aspire to be a chef at Casa Bonita.
Locals will understand just how uninspiring that ambition is.
You’re already an intrepid traveler and are counting down the days until you ride the plane by yourself to see Grandma J. this summer. We took multiple ski trips and you conquered the intermediate runs at Park City Mountain Resort, Telluride, Echo Mountain and Crested Butte.
You’re always looking for new adventures and absolutely loved Disneyland, your Disney Cruise to Cabo San Lucas and Puerto Vallarta and our mommy-daughter trip to Puerto Rico.
Basically, your life does not suck.
A couple of my favorite memories occurred in Puerto Rico. We failed miserably at flying kites on El Morro’s expansive bluff overlooking the ocean but on our final night, we stood on the Marriott’s wind-whipped balcony. At that raw hour, it was tough to distinguish ocean from sky and the reflection from the hotel’s white lights pierced the ocean’s black. Our 20-story perch almost seemed to shake but then I realized it was just the air vibrating.
An idea took flight.
I grabbed our grounded kite and hurled it into the void. It dropped out of sight and then, almost as if it was mustering up courage, it swooped higher and higher. You squealed with delight as we marveled at the kite that had finally taken flight to sketch our good-byes in the sky.
I’m sure the hotel staff had differing opinions on our contraband kite-flying activities.
In the evenings at the San Juan Marriott, you loved to hit the dance floor. You’ve inherited my lack of rhythm but that did not hold you back. Hair and arms flailing, you rocked out to the music, causing everyone around you to stop and marvel.
Another mom on the trip tried to urge her insecure daughter to join you. “But I can never look as good as Hadley out there!” she protested. I looked at her incredulously. She obviously wasn’t really seeing you.
Or was she?
Through her eyes, you were a self-confident, hilarious and fearless girl who didn’t care what you looked like or what anyone thought of you. You were simply lost in the moment and living it to the very fullest you knew how. This quality is one of the things that makes you special…and unstoppable. Whether you someday become a “chef” at Casa Bonita or if you’re dancing by yourself, one thing is certain:
You will always fly.
Love,
Mommy
P.S. For a stroll down memory lane, read letters for your 6, 5, 4, 3, or 2 birthdays.
I’ve mentioned what a great artist she is. If I had one iota of time and motivation, I’d scan in some artistic renderings she’s done this year–truly impressive. When we were at our city’s library last winter we stumbled upon a painting she did of an abstract owl.
She was thrilled to be on display.
But on Sunday, she obtained a new level at stake conference (a two-hour, semi-annual meeting with all the church members in our area.) Normally I look forward to it but with Jamie out of town in Florida, I dreaded entertaining both kids by myself.
Fortunately, the kids were perfectly well-behaved and drew pictures the entire time. At the very end, I caught a glimpse of Hadley’s latest creation: A beautiful, intrinsically detailed temple in the background…with a big, fat cat taking up most of the foreground.
Because Fat Kitties are nothing if not celestial beings.
Unbeknownst to me, the couple behind us had been watching her progress. When the meeting was over, they begged me to scan in the funny picture so they could hang it on their fridge.
“I’ll do better than that,” I said as I ripped it out of the notebook and handed it to them.
We are not lacking in fat cat pictures at our house. (UNDERSTATEMENT.)
Shocked, Hadley watched the exchange but truly did not come to life until they turned and asked her, “Can you autograph this picture for us?”
I predict a life of incorrigibility after this one.
Hadley’s 7th birthday is on Wednesday. You know those moms who go over-the-top by over-planning their social event of the season everyone will rave about for years to come?
That is not me.
Don’t get me wrong: I love parties and between doing it personally and professionally for many years, I do a pretty good job. It’s just when it comes to children’s birthday parties, less is more.
A few years ago, a dear friend hired a professional party planner for her daughter’s birthday. The company did a marvelous job but guess what: the kids were 3 years old and could not have cared less. In the end–though I think most of us have good intentions–it’s our own needs that often get in the way of how the kids really want to celebrate.
Every year, I let my kids plan their theme around what they love best. For Hadley, it is her beloved Fat Kitty. For months, she has been formulating her games that will include a meowing contest, clean the kitty litter box (blindfolded with cotton balls & Tootsie roll poop) and musical chairs cat beds with the fun twist that the winner will actually be the first person out.
Fat Kitty ain’t exactly fast.
Most people would be thrilled to have a party in their honor but not him. Hadley declared he needed to be featured on her invitation and so we staged a photo shoot with various locations and costume changes.
Disclaimer: No animals were harmed in the making of this birthday card.
The same cannot be said for soon-to-be 7-year-old girls.
Maybe I should look into hiring a professional after all.
I'm a Canadian-born mom of two, former Denver Post columnist, family travel writer, editor of MileHighMamas.com and 9News contributor. Expert on all things Utah, Denver, family and travel. Lover of laughter and life. Happily married to a man obsessed with growing The Great Pumpkin. Learn More