A Utah Family Travel Writer's Adventures with Altitude
I heard this on the radio this morning and could not stop laughing.
Mostly because as a former Party Princess/Ward Activities Committee Chair, I could sooooooo relate to all of the different, asinine requests.
Click here:
The HR Lady – Our most requested Holiday Classic!
And join me in the insane asylum at the end.
I’ve been receiving oodles of emails asking about our cruise aboard the Norwegian Epic. Rest assured, it was an amazing vacation replete with sun, surf, sand and (of course) Murphy’s Law. When I can carve out more than a few minutes at a time, I’ll post all the sordid details.
But it won’t be this week.
I’m still playing catch-up and it doesn’t help that I am having the young women from church over tomorrow to make gingerbread houses, have meetings on Wednesday and an all-day commitment Thursday. Oh, and did I mention I’m flying to Park City on Friday for a Snowmamas summit over the weekend?
Oh yeah, and all that fun Christmas chaos.
Hence the reason for the lack of posting.
The kids’ six-day Thanksgiving vacation was a welcome reprieve. We watched movies, didn’t even get out of our PJs on Friday, went furniture shopping and invited some neighbors over for a pizza and movie night.
Last night, the kiddos and I got into the Christmas spirit. I dusted off the piano and we belted out carols, made gingerbread cookies, paper snowflakes and watched the 2010 Pumpkin Chunkin’ competition on the Discovery Science channel.
Because watching insane rednecks who built contraptions to catapult pumpkins hundreds of feet is never out of season.
A team of women won for the first time this year.
I’m not sure if I should be proud or embarrassed for my gender.
Haddie went back to school today and evidently was a bit rusty after the break. When I picked her up from the bus stop, our neighbor Gabe teasingly tattled,
“Hadley got off at the wrong bus stop today.”
Surely that couldn’t be the case. The girl has ridden the bus a hundred times so I looked to her for confirmation. She sheepishly grinned and tossed her BLOND hair.
Sometimes it frightens me just how alike we really are.
Any attempts to avoid the Thanksgiving frenzy were put to rest when Hadley requested we make pies (we opted for pumpkin and Dulce de Leche apple).
But when I appeased Hadley with her pies, I had to also cater to Bode and Jamie with our signature bacon-wrapped turkey.
Then I remembered Jamie’s favorite menu item: homemade rolls. Before I knew it, I was entrenched in a full-blown Thanksgiving meal that became a labor of love for these three blessed people.
I could not have been happier to do it.
But I did it my way by holding our feast on Wednesday night for the sole purpose of NOT having to spend the entire holiday in the kitchen. And you know what? It was my favorite Thanksgiving ever.
It started by Hadley making me breakfast in bed. We then snuggled up as a family in our king-sized bed to watch Chronicles of Narnia (a favorite after Bode’s inspired observations a couple of years ago).
We then devoured our Thanksgiving leftovers and hit the trail. The Turkey Trot trail, that is. It has been a tradition to drag our butterball butts on this hike for almost five years. I got a kick out of the accounts from my archives that started in 2005. Then came:
The kids in 2010.
My, what a difference a few years makes.
This was the first year both of the children did the steep hike on their own and I could not have been more proud. Though the sun was shining, the temperatures were below freezing but no one whined even once about the cold. Well, except for me.
In my defense, I was the only one without a jacket.
And then my new favorite family shot ever.
Well, minus the fact you can’t see Bode who was hidden in the shadows.
On the drive back, we blasted the heat and Christmas tunes. We devoured pies and hot chocolate at our house and upon the kids’ insistence, we setup our Christmas tree.
Every stage of my kids’ lives has been a blessing but I enjoy them more and more as they grow older. They are surpassing expectations, developing passions and giving me a glimpse of who they are becoming. As a mom, there is no greater joy.
Hadley is a delightful and hilarious kid but her spirited and stubborn disposition frustrates us to no end. On Thanksgiving, she simply shone. That morning as we snuggled in bed, we stretched our imaginations as we mulled over Imagine a Place, one of the most beautifully illustrated and lyrical children’s books I’ve ever seen.
Imagine a place…
…where castle and cloud
shift from square to square
and the world lies
in the winner’s hand.
That evening as Hadley and I decorated the tree, she acted so grownup as we talked about my childhood memories of Christmas in Canada. It was one of the first times I felt like I’ve truly had a discussion that connected with her on a deeper level. It made me so happy we are reaching a new stage where confidences can be shared.
She was as shocked as me.
“Gee, Mommy. I’m having a really good attitude today, aren’t I?”
It was quite the day for Thanksgiving miracles.
I hope you had a blessed one!
For most people, the focal point of holiday meals is the meat. Thanksgiving is no exception with the hallowed turkey.
While I would not consider us huge meat eaters, there is no better smell for me than a burger or steak on the BBQ or a brisket in my husband’s smoker.
Last summer, I tweeted about this love affair and how, while I do not disparage vegetarians, I could never live that lifestyle during grilling season. A friend replied that grilled tofo and BOCA burgers are also delicious.
Ummmm, you just keep telling yourself that while you sink your teeth into that tofu turkey on Thanksgiving.
I occasionally eat veggie burgers but tofu ranks right up there with solicitors who contact us despite the fact we’re on the do-not-call list. If I were to give up meat completely, I would do just that. But there is no way I would resort to all those weird, artificial alternatives.
When I told Jamie about my friend’s grilled tofu suggestion, he proclaimed:
Biting into tofu is like biting into a void. It’s like mixing vegetables with Jell-o. Your mouth says you should be tasting savory meat. Instead, you get a big, slimy cube.
Dude could totally rival Jack Handy’s deep thoughts.
Haddie had a few deep thoughts of her own when she brought home this art project from school.
In case you need help translating, it reads:
He looks cool. He’s diying. Run! Away from it!
I love the turkey. He is nice and he’s diying.
I don’t see her becoming a vegetarian anytime soon.
Halloween is almost anti-climactic after all the pumpkin patches, parties, weigh-offs and trunk-or-treats.
This year, the kids opted for a Mario Bros. theme. Bode’s hero is Mario and Hadley begged to be Yoshi, his sidekick dinosaur. Bode’s costume was easy: I went to the local thrift store where I found overalls and a red shirt. I bought the actual Mario hat from the Halloween store.
I’ll admit I wasn’t too thrilled about Yoshi so when I couldn’t find a costume in Hadley’s size, I proposed she dress up as Princess Peach, the damsel in distress in Mario’s ficticious Mushroom Kingdom.
Just pretend they are posing with The Great Mushroom.
If you know Hadley’s aversion to all things princess, you would realize what a risky move this was. Somewhere, at sometime, a princess did her wrong and these royal wenches represent all that is evil in the world.
Fortunately, due to her affection for Mario, she made the exception to be Peach.
Though she did have the pageant girl wave down at her school parade.
On Saturday, we had a busy day with soccer games and a playdate with Aunt Lisa while Jamie and I auditioned at the Marriage Ref. That night was the trunk-or-treat at the church. Knowing they would get loaded up on sugar, I fed them a healthy dinner. Thirty seconds prior, Bode professed to be starving to death and proceeded to eat half his weight in food.
“My tummy is sooooo full,” he moaned.
I thought he was exaggerating until it was time to go to the trunk-or-treat an hour later. He refused, with the same complaint.
“Bode, don’t you realize you’re going to go to a place where they are going to stuff you full of candy?” I queried.
“Don’t care. My tummy is too full.”
I don’t know how a kid like that came out of me.
He bounced back on Halloween and we joined our neighborhood revelries with a fire-truck-led procession, followed by trick-or-treating.
The local Medved dealership sponsored our parade and brought this Camero. It was love at first sight for the Lord of the Gourds.
Please don’t ask me how many times he made me retake this photo in order to best showcase his dream car.
As you can imagine, visiting the house of The Great Pumpkin makes us a VERY popular stop for picture-taking.
Next year, I’m charging a fee.
All these were fun times but my favorite moment came earlier that day when I attempted to clean up the house. As I swept the kitchen floor, the Lord of the Gourds commented:
“You’re the best looking thing with a broom today.”
‘Bout time someone recognized it.
Happy Halloween!
When Jamie and I moved into our current ward six years ago, we were remiss to leave our former congregation. Within a few months, my now-friend Lisa invited us to join an informal dinner group with some other couples.
Six years later, we’re still going strong. After participating in numerous parties that have included a murder mystery, Christmases and BBQs, these people are among our dearest friends.
Though looking at these pictures of our latest dinner/Halloween party one might ask “why.”
There is absolutely no proof that Red Riding Hood’s grandma/wolf is also our bishop.
Though his/her/its smock is lovely.
Evidently good Mormon folk crank out convicts & witches.
But Lisa should have been arrested for letting her husband Phil wear these pants in public.
Lawyer-turned-rock-star or not.
In addition to killer finger food (not literally), our delightful hostess Wendy had a full line-up of games perfectly choreographed to entertain and humiliate.
No commentary is needed.
Of course, no Halloween party is complete without the mummy wrap. I did the honors to my beloved James (you may see his little green pumpkin stem shooting out the top).
But there was none more creative than what the Big, Bad Wolf did to Little Red Riding Hood: two rolls of toilet paper…on her head (she’s the far left).
Forget swallowing someone whole; suffocation is a far more optimal strategy.
Though neither Jamie or I were feeling well, we had a blast. Really, the only person who was a bit wary of the whole thing was Bode. When Jamie took him to pick up our babysitter, Bode had one request:
“Daddy, can you have Mommy take off her make-up when we get home?”
“Why, Bode? Does it scare you?”
“Yeah.”
I can’t imagine why.
Many people are surprised when I tell them we don’t like to travel for the Fourth of July. The reason is two-fold:
1) It’s the two-week window for The Great Pumpkin’s pollination. Duh.
2) We live on a hill overlooking where the fireworks are shot. Our neighbors collectively petition to have our street closed off and the partying goes late into the night.
We started out our festivities by making coconut ice cream after church, a Fourth of July tradition.
Or rather, it would be if only we could remember to actually do it every year.
The plan for this Fourth of July was to setup canopies in a park area across the street and do a huge potluck starting at 6 p.m.
At exactly 5:57 p.m., it started raining.
Big time.
We scrambled together and our neighbor Bernie generously offered up her house.
Because there is nothing like cramming 50 people inside.
In the end, it didn’t matter. The kids played with their besties .
And the city still set off the fireworks. Early that morning, Jamie had staked out our usual spot on the hill. Due to the inclement weather, when we arrived we were among only a few hearty families while everyone else watched from their cars.
Woosies.
Or at least so I thought until the grand finale when the torrential downpour began. At the last minute, I had returned to grab our new Sport-Brella and I’m so glad I did. Jamie and I snuggled up to nine giggling kids as we marveled at the kalaidescope in the sky
Most of our past Independence Days all blur together but this one will go down in infamy as one of my favorites. The reason? After several weeks of 90+ degree weather, this was the one evening it rained and yet everyone still banded together and made the best of the less-than-ideal circumstances.
The same could be same about my Muphy’s Law life.
I’ll take it.
Kind of a pain but I’ve temporarily closed comments as I combat problems with Asian spammers!
A Johnson family tradition is to duke it out every year at the community Easter egg hunt.
It’s been a long road. When our daughter Hadley was little, she mistook the eggs as “pretty balls” and hucked them in the air. Then there was the year we couldn’t drag her off the playground equipment. Another Easter, both kids simply raced past all the eggs and ran in circles.
Now that my children are 3 and 5, this was OUR year. They finally understand that inside those cheap plastic eggs are candy and toys.
Glorious treats that Mom and Dad did not have to stuff.
There was still a lot of snow and muck on the ground. Being the good mother I am, I had outfitted them in clothing befitting of a polar bear club/mud-wrestling competition.
I am nothing if not prepared.
But the organizers surprised us all and moved the Easter egg hunt into the adjacent recreation center. Instead of setting the children loose at the same time, we were admitted into the arena in waves. Bode had the advantage and was among the eldest in the 0-3 age group, as was Hadley in the 4-5.
Remember that I mentioned it was our year?
The children chomped at the bit as they waited at the starting line like thoroughbreds at a race track. A volunteer explained the rules.
“When the whistle blows, you may run into the arena. Your children are allowed five eggs a piece.”
Five eggs a piece? What’re we: a communist society?
When the whistle blew, all the children tore off the starting line. There were hundreds, if not over a thousand eggs for each age group. It was obvious that the five-egg limit would not be an issue as pretty much every child I saw greedily walked away with baskets spilling over with eggs.
I, on the other hand, got nothing. You see, the volunteer had also made sure to emphasize that parents were not allowed to pick up eggs. I didn’t murmur about the ban on parental involvement because I figured it was aimed at me.
In my defense, I was *this* close to finding the golden egg in previous years.
Kid #1: Hadley
Every year, our church puts on a Nativity pageant for the community. In years past, it has been a pretty low-key event with beautiful music and a reenactment of the story of Jesus’ birth. This year, they upped the ante to make it more professional. They pre-recorded all the speaking parts, had a killer sound system and beautiful Christmas music playing in the background.
I was impressed.
Several of my peers were cast in the various roles and they lip synced their lines. At times, they came across a bit stoically but overall they did a great job in this amateur production.
Hadley, the future theatre critic, did not share our sentiments. Near the conclusion while the rest of us were moved by the spirit of the evening, Hadley turned to Jamie and very loudly asked:
“Is that the best they can do?”
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Kid #2: The Son
My neighbors are looking into a preschool for their son Gavin. They recently asked me how I like Bode’s school and if I recommend it. I mentioned it to Bode.
“Bode, guess what? Gavin might be attending your preschool!”
“Which Gavin?”
“Our neighbor.”
“I know three Gavins!”
“Really? Who are they?”
“Well, their names are Gavin, Gavin and Gavin!”
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Kid #3: The Father
Before we were married, Jamie was addicted to a little show the nation loves called The Simpson’s. I am not among the populace of adoring fans and cringe at the thought of my children watching its crude humor.
So imagine how thrilled I was when I discovered father and daughter guffawing along with Bart.
“No, no, no!” I objected. “It’s bad enough YOU have to watch it but to expose our innocent child to Homer?”
“Honey,” Jamie reasoned. “Studies have shown that children can actually learn more by watching The Simpson’s than Barney. Of course, the backlash of this study is the things they subsequently learned are morally wrong.”
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Addendum: Once upon a time, the following conversation was overheard while Jamie watched Chevy Chase’s Vacation with 3-year-old Hadley.
“Daddy, what are they doing?”
“Looking for a place to dispose of the body, Sweetie.”
As you can see, my lil’ ol’ blog has had a makeover. We are still working out the bugs (“we” meaning poor Jamie who is supposed to be on vacation this week). Be sure to change your RSS feeds and bookmarks to www.crazybloggincanuck.com.
Our two-week-long Winter Break has been one of our most laid back ever and all this downtime has about killed me.
I don’t know why they call this a “break.” It is anything but for the parents.
We have tried to stay busy and went miniature golfing, watched movies, skied, bowled, shopped, read lots of new books, picnicked in the family room, hiked in the snow, had playdates, toured the Denver Art Museum, went go-carting, threw a New Year’s Eve party and traumatized The Cat. Daily.
Christmas itself was the most quiet I’ve ever had. With Jamie’s parents gone, we skied on Christmas Eve, played the bells and ate. His sister came over after we’d unwrapped our presents on Christmas. Bode’s favorite present was an Optimus Prime Transformer. Haddie’s was a live butterfly kit.
If her father insists upon having worms in our basement, it’s only natural his offspring would covet something like caterpillars.
I was delighted to receive some Vancouver Olympics gloves from my mom for good luck (official announcement is on January 14), a beautiful painting of Jesus in Jerusalem from my in-laws and a pair of Sanita Clogs.
Which are exponentially cooler than these beauties.
As for James, I gave him a milkshake maker to go with his old-fashioned soda fountain. I was most excited when his parents gave him a deluxe remote that combines the four remotes he has for his home theatre.
And which also means I’ll finally be able to turn the blasted thing on.
December’s highlights in pictures:
Gingerbread making with Aunt Lisa.
Haddie’s Rockin’ Rudolph Dance Recital.
She was only a half a beat behind everyone else, an improvement from her unscripted solo performance she performed when she was 3.
Eighteen giggling tweens crammed into our basement for a “Grinch Party.”
My failed attempts to photograph Hadley at our church Christmas party.
Which may or may not have lead to the threat, “So help me if you do that when you see Santa, you will not get any dessert or presents.”
Dessert + Santa = the way to every girl’s heart.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! Be sure to weigh-in about your holidays.
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
