A Utah Family Travel Writer's Adventures with Altitude
Though my naughtiness is nothing compared to what we discovered our reindeer doing in broad daylight.
This takes the phrase “reindeer games” to a whole new level.
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Child No. 1: Bode.
I hate swimming.
OK, let me qualify that. I don’t actually hate being in the water. When I did a study abroad in the Middle East, I relished my early-morning swims in the Sea of Galilee. But due to two failed operations on my nasal passages, I just hate getting my face wet.
Kind of an important factor when you’re swimming.
When we went to Mexico a couple of years ago, Haddie became an excellent swimmer. Three-year-old Bode takes after me. He enjoys the water but hates to be submerged. Swim lessons last summer didn’t help help his aversion so I was recently determined to conquer it on a Saturday morning trip to the pool.
“I’m going to dunk you.”
“Nooooooo. You can’t dunk me, Mommy.”
“Sure, it’s fun. Mommy will even do it with you.”
And I did. Don’t tell him but there was nothing fun about it.
We let him get used to the water for a while and then did the deed. And shocker: he did not die. I can’t say he liked it but it definitely overcame his fear. So much so that he brazenly went on the large water slide on the tube with Jamie multiple times, each time getting his face wet.
As we were driving home, we praised him. He relished in his glory but then pointed out that Mommy didn’t go on the waterslide.
Traitor.
I hemmed and hawed about it but nothing worked. Finally, Jamie interjected:
“Bode, Mommy isn’t a fish like you!”
“Dat’s right. She’s a whale.”
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Child No. 2: Hadley.
My 5-year-old daughter Hadley and I were recently sitting at the kitchen table. She was deeply engrossed in coloring when we heard a strange sound, likely the wind blowing our Christmas door hanging. Without looking up, Hadley caustically queried, “What the hell was that?”
My sentiments exactly.
It was March 2006 when I first made The Big Announcement at my MSN Spaces blog about our new addition to the family:
(Note: Babywearing advocates wouldn’t want to get anywhere near this beast).
Almost four years later, a finally-finished basement, and the drama of scraping together enough funds to buy the counter top after our original granite contractor stole our money, our old-fashioned soda fountain is finished.
Couple that with Jamie’s 84-inch HDTV and I may never be able to drag him out of his Man Cave again.
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Like many of you, we are in the throes of Christmas preparations. But unlike many of you, I am not stressed out in the least. In fact, this will be one of my least frenzied holidays because we aren’t throwing our annual Christmas Eve shindig due to Jamie’s parents recent move to Utah.
Being family-less and friendless has its advantages.
We’re starting a new tradition and are skiing Loveland on December 24th. We are also guilting Jamie’s sister into spending Christmas day with us. This process involves bribery because she’d rather sleep in than spend the morning with my sugar-induced children jumping all over her, slurring Santa praises.
I just can’t figure out the swingin’ single folks these days.
Something we will have in abundance is fine food. My Christmas baking has already been distributed.
On this year’s menu: gingerbread cookies, sugar cookies, pumpkin fudge, Almond Roca and whipped shortbread.
My beloved husband sampled all the spoils and offered his honest opinion.
“This is the best maple fudge I’ve ever tasted.”
“It’s pumpkin.”
I’m thinking the man should just stick to old-fashioned soda.
Veteran’s Day is one of the things Canada does better than the United States. We call it Remembrance Day and I loved what an important part of our lives it was. At school, they distributed poppies for us to wear. We recited In Flander’s Fields. And we remembered.
I had forgotten the significance of the poppy:
This is because the corn poppy was one of the only plants that grew on the battlefield. It thrives in disturbed soil, which was abundant on the battlefield due to intensive shelling. During the few weeks the plant blossomed, the battlefield was coloured blood red, not just from the red flower that grew in great numbers but also from the actual blood of the dead soldiers that lay scattered and untended to on the otherwise barren battlegrounds.
Of course, my dear husband never forgets a holiday.
Jamie: Today is Veteran’s Day so I expect you to take really good care of me.
Me: Why? You’re not a veteran.
Jamie: No, but I could be.
Halloween a.k.a. my month-long party is over.
Well, month-and-a-half-long party if you count back to mid-September when I put out the decorations (much to Jamie’s dismay).
In the end, we had really easy costumes: Bode wanted to be a firefighter (again) and Haddie opted for a bat. I simply resurrected the bodysuit from her kitty costume last year, found a pair of butterfly wings at the thrift store that I spray-painted black, styled her hair into bat ears and had Jamie make her a mask.
Cheapest Halloween ever.
We participated in our neighborhood’s annual parade and the procession was led by a fire truck, perfect for the little firefighter himself.
And hung out with our neighborhood besties.
It was the first year the kids really got into trick-or-treating and wanted to venture beyond just our block.
Because they figured out more houses = more candy.
I did not approve of Haddie’s choice to be a bat and cringed every time she made me do online research about them. She wanted to be a “mean bat” and was repeatedly annoyed when folks would comment how “cute” she was.
Bats are not cute, people. They are creepy, scary and ugly.
I mourned when I took down the decorations and lamented to Jamie, “Now that Halloween is over, what do I have to look forward to?”
Jamie: “How about Christmas? You know. Jesus‘ birthday.”
Oh yeah. That.
Ever wonder where my Halloween obsession comes from? Checkout my parent’s house in Calgary:
That picture is not even including the blow-up giant pumpkin on their lawn.
And my brother Jade’s “Duct Man” costume this year.
Still searching for an explanation for this one.
So, we’ve been busy.
Getting snowed in with record-breaking snowfall and trying out the kids’ new shovels.
Building snow caves.
And yes, we’re in Colorado (though it looks a lot like Canada)
Playing with the newest addition to our family.
Making a Dry Ice Crystal Ball at our annual Halloween bash.
(And miraculously, I did not blow up the house).
Making “Incredibly” eerie ghost sounds with balloons.
(I learned all these cool science experiments at a Steve Spangler Science event I attended. Checkout Mile High Mamas Creative Corner for more fun ideas).
And just being cute.
(Hadley is second from the left and had long since removed her bat costume. Bode is a firefighter on the front row).
The in-laws rushed their move along and were thrilled to leave this week because they “did not want to move in winter.”
Mom Canuck always said if you can’t say something nice, don’t say it at all.
Which is why I’m not saying much this week.
I had to postpone Haddie’s annual Halloween bash because this plague is still leveling me and I haven’t slept in days.
Does bronchitis feel like death? If so, I think I’m suffering from both.
Speaking of death, we were sad to hear of the passing of our friend (and bishop) Darrin’s grandfather. Of course, he was likely in his late 80s and such a passing is to be celebrated. Since Jamie and I have been so near death the past few weeks, we discussed our ideal age to meet the grave.
Me: “I want to live until I’m 89. Only if I’m healthy, of course.”
Jamie: “No way. 85 tops.”
Me: “Yeah, you’re right. You’re going to be a grumpy old man.”
Jamie (glaring at me): “I wonder why.”
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On another note: what do you do when you’re bored out of your mind and can’t sleep all night?
The Monster Mash, of course.
Note: Family Member #5 is the kitty that will be joining our family next week. That’s blog fodder just waiting to happen.
The Johnson clan is FINALLY on the mend. Of course, we’re not fully recovered enough to go on an epic backpacking trip this weekend to Coyote Gulch with friends Dave and Rebecca that we have been planning for MONTHS.
Serious bummer.
We barely left the house all week but braved the cold and snow to attend our town’s scarecrow festival last Saturday. Like the mythical phoenix borne out of ashes, there was a happy ending to The Great Pumpkin Massacre of 2009. Haddie and Bode’s pumpkin didn’t have a leaf on it after the hail storm but it rebounded over the course of a month and Jamie finally got it to pollinate on August 31.
We only had about two weeks of good growing weather and Jamie cut it off the vine a few days before the competition. Or rather, I should say he dragged his sick family out in the cold and snow to witness the vine-cutting ceremony.
Because surely this momentous occasion could not have waited an extra hour for the snow to subside.
And The Great Phoenix Pumpkin’s final weight? 85.5 pounds. This is 0.5 pounds bigger than Haddie’s pumpkin last year with a growing season that was cut in half. It was starting to turn orange but was never on the vine long enough to fully convert. Some picture-perfect moments:
Father and daughter in their matching pumpkin geek hats:
Their pumpkin was the second biggest in the children’s division. Haddie and Bode received a ribbon and they took home a $30 gift certificate. For some families, their trophy case looks like this.
Sadly, this is only a small sampling of ours.
…started with our annual pilgrimage to hike St. Mary’s Glacier.
It ended before we even began.
Upon arriving at the trailhead, the only parking that remained was along a steep ledge so I hopped out to guide Jamie in his parallel parking efforts. Hadley, assuming we had arrived, jumped out too.
While it was still moving.
She started shrieking. I raced over to her side of the car and found her arm caught in the door. I released it, only to realize that was the least of her problems: Jamie had stopped the car on her foot.
“DRIVE, RIGHT NOW! DRIVE DRIVE DRIVE!!!!!!”
Rest assured, I am not a person you want to be around in a crisis situation.
Confused by my hysterics, Jamie paused, unsure what direction to go. Eventually, he just stepped on the gas and rolled off her poor little foot.
We grabbed little crippled Hadley and raced her to the back of our SUV. We removed her shoe and as we surveyed the damage, Bode (ever the supportive brother), came over and demanded, “I’m hungry. Feed me now.”
He will not be mistaken for the sensitive type.
Even though her foot was miraculously fine, we skipped the hike and hung out at nearby Silver Lake before heading down to play in Idaho Springs.
Dejected from our misadventures, I promised them we would go visit Grandma Jean’s kitties when we returned home. Our neighbor had somehow left the two people in the world her cats hate most (meaning: my children) in charge while she went away for the weekend.
They jubilantly raced across the street, I punched in the code Jean had given me to her garage door and entered.
Then the house alarm went off.
She hadn’t mentioned anything about a house alarm.
I didn’t stick around long enough to figure out how to turn it off. We hightailed it over to another neighbor’s house who came back and did it for us. We settled into kitty stalking mode and all was well in the world.
Until the cops showed up.
I’ll spare you the sordid details but they almost involved a preschooler and kindergartner doing hard time for catnapping (mug shots taken two years ago prior to our trip to Mexico. Oh, the foreshadowing.)
Oh yeah, and my dear husband who debated not vouching for us.
He was obviously still recovering from my near-nervous breakdown earlier that day.
I’ll stop there and won’t mention the freezer that was left open all night and how we woke up to all our nice, expensive meat oozing all over the floor, which then inspired possessed me to spend the entirety of my Labor Day cleaning out our garage.
Have I mentioned how glad I am the long weekend is over?
So, make me feel better. Tell me about all the horrible, awful things that happened to you over Labor Day weekend. Errr…. please?
A few weeks ago, my friend Lisa hosted a Christmas soiree and had a gift exchange to be remembered. For those who don’t know how to play: everyone brings a wrapped gift and then draws a number and takes a turn either choosing an unwrapped gift or swiping one that has already been opened.
We were half-way through the exchange when my friend Wendy opened the gift I had brought–a green and orange prize ribbon. Everyone dubiously stared at it until realization set in that it was for a certain someone’s prized pumpkin. I won’t go into details but it got ugly. Jamie attests that no one was laughing.
I can assure you that everyone was laughing but him.
Now, onto some highlights of our two-week vacation in Canada:
Sleep, Blessed Sleep
We slept in every morning. I haven’t had that many consecutive nights of eights hours of sleep since birth. Oh wait. I didn’t sleep even then. We slumbered in my parent’s pitch-dark basement. After our first night, I awoke to Bode screaming at the top of his lungs, “Can’t see, can’t see!” In toddler speak, this means “HALP, I’M BLIND!!!!!”
The Cold
The weather was almost unbearable the first several days (-30 degrees) but we spent some quality time visiting with my folks snuggling up by the fire, drinking hot chocolate, dragging the dogs for walks around the house, doing make-up with Grandma, playing games and hanging out in the Canadian Rockies. Oh, and sleeping. Did I mention glorious sleep?
Outdoor Pursuits, Canadian-Style
When temps warmed up, Dad and I went cross-country skiing and we all tobogganed at the gully near my house. Turns out my thrill-seeking days are over and I started to scream “I’m too old for this”… until my 68-year-old father zoomed past me. Jamie declared he had two days left on his health insurance and brazenly stupidly went off a huge jump. There was no sympathy as he limped around afterwards.
I got some YakTrax from my parents for Christmas. Never heard of them? Just strap these bad boys onto your shoes and they help you run in the snow. It was so bloody cold that first week that I went out for a run when it was -20 C. I covered my face with my turtleneck but just breathing caused it to freeze solid. Bottom line: Yaktrax work out marvelously in the sub-zero temps but maybe you shouldn’t. Will wait for balmy -15 degree conditions next time around.
On Not Getting Ripped
My brother Pat and his wife Jane took Jamie and I to Caesar’s, the best steakhouse in Calgary. Oh, and I did not get Ripped. Why burn 1,000 calories in an hour when you eat ten times that in two hours? The good Lord chose to smite me with the stomach flu that Ripped day. A curse or possibly a blessing?
The Canucks
Seeing beloved friend Stacey and then hanging out with cherished high school sweethearts Allison and Shannon.
Note: Prior to snapping this shot, Shannon asked, “Are we taking the picture with our clothes on or off?”
And no, we weren’t those kind of sweethearts.
Jamie met renowned giant pumpkin grower “The Ice Man” (because what would any vacation be like without pumpkins?) Ice Man took him out to his property and showed Jamie his 12 greenhouses where he grows his orange monstrosities. A disturbing glimpse into the life we would lead if we ever moved to Canada.
My brother Pat is a commodities trader and travels in wealthy circles. We got invited out to one of these friend’s houses for a Boxing Day party to play hockey in their backyard (because doesn’t everyone flood their backyard and make it into a rink?) I enjoyed chatting with everyone but later realized the net worth in the room with four other couples was $100 million. Any guesses who was the poorest?
Christmas
Nothing has ever compared to Christmas in Canada for me. Christmas Eve was replete with family traditions of stuffing our faces, [badly] playing the Christmas bells, proving our mental deficiencies in the Left-Wright Game and fighting over presents in the gift exchange. Christmas Day was food, generosity and laughter. The perfect holiday spent with my wonderful parents and my brother and his family.
The Flights
I did not die (though I wanted to kill a few people en route.) Overall, pretty minor on the Amber Scale of Catastrophes: 1) Our Chariot stroller accrued THREE flat tires 2) The Las Vegas airport SUCKS for layovers and doesn’t have a #$&(&# train between terminals and the Chariot would not fit in the shuttle. 3) We flew into Denver with 40 mph winds–the worst turbulence I have ever experienced. As the children delightedly squealed, “Weeeee, roller-coaster airplane!” I started writing my will. Of course, you are all in it.
Too bad I’m not worth much.
Note to self: start hanging out with wealthy commodities traders in 2009.
XOXO
Amber
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