One of the many reasons I love my dad

It finally feels like Fall in Colorado and after a long, hot summer this is the time of year I enjoy the most. Well, with the exception of winter’s glorious snow. And who doesn’t love spring blossoms?

OK, mostly I just hate summer’s heat.

As a part of my physical therapy, I’ve been trying to bike daily. Though I don’t yet feel I’m ready to hike, my knee is getting stronger every day. Yesterday, I biked for over an hour and was delighted, upon summiting a large hill on the Ralston Creek Trail, to have a vantage point of two gorgeous lakes.

But even better was I actually passed a young dude on the trail, evidence I’m finally gaining some speed. “This is the stretch that always gets me,” he mumbled as an excuse. “Yeah, me too!” I breathed as I raced by.

Or not.

Dear ol’ dad posted the following as his Facebook status last weekend:

Passed these two teenagers pushing their mountain bikes up the Southland Drive hill.

’70-year-old guy passing on your left,’ said I.

‘Heh, heh,’ said they in obvious humiliation.

Just in case you’re wondering where I get “it” from.

Spontanaeity at its Worst

Hadley and I are the spontaneous ones in our little family.

This is just a nice way of saying we give our boys ulcers.

But yesterday, Hadley was a bit too spontaneous for even me. At 7:30 a.m., she announced, “Let’s bike to school today!”

This is no small feat. When we had our assessment testing before school started, we tested the waters by biking there and between going up hills, crossing busy streets and traversing the soccer fields, it took us about 25 minutes.

I had been wanting to bike to school before chilly temperatures kicked in and with rain in the forecast later in the week, I agreed, “Let’s do it!”

Sleepy Bode looked at us like we were both lunatics and he was correct. School starts at 8:15 a.m. so we had just 15 minutes to finish getting ready. But we somehow did it and were on our way.

Until we biked up to the top of our hill and I realized we’d forgotten their backpacks.

“Wait here,” I gasped as I raced back to the house. When we reconnected, I knew we wouldn’t have even one moment to spare. Bless their hearts, they pushed onward and had a lovely ride on that beautiful September morning.

Well, with the exception we were in a bit of a frenzy when we arrived mere moments before the bell rang (because stressed and frazzled is an ideal way for any kid to start school).

Now, the following is a glimpse at how I don’t think things through. I had originally intended to go for a bike ride in our local open space that morning and did just that. I had a lovely time and even ran into my friend Lisa.

That would have been dandy if it ended there but then it was time to bike back to school to retrieve Bode from half-day kindergarten an hour later. We stopped at the nearby playground and skate park for a picnic before climbing the big hill to our house. Then a few hours later, I had to repeat the same process by biking back to school to pick-up Hadley and climbing our big hill for the third time that day.

Remember my knee surgery I had two weeks ago today?

Maybe by Spring I’ll be ready to be spontaneous again.

When the devil comes calling

When I hear about wives who had absolutely no idea their husbands were involved in Ponzi schemes, I get it.

Even though Jamie and I both work from home, he is holed up in his den in the basement up to 15 hours a day while I putter around on the upper two levels of the house.

For the most part, I don’t question what he does. He has always proven to be a trust-worthy Mormon boy and our bills are paid. I mean, the guy is obsessed with pumpkins. How much of a trouble-maker could he be?

Until he received a phone call a few weeks ago. From A WHOLE LOT OF SIN.

In his defense, he claims it was his client, “A Whole Lot of Singing.”

The jury is still out.

Fat Kitty’s Soul Mate & Internet Sensation

Thanks to everyone for your well wishes during my painful recovery week. The first five days were decidedly hellish but I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. Jamie has been a tremendous help though he’s been struggling with some pretty severe rheumatism attacks of his own so I have felt guilty every time I ask for assistance. It’s so like him to steal my thunder.

Case in point: after birthing baby Bode, I sent Jamie home from the hospital immediately thereafter stating “you’re useless to me.” He was sicker than he’s ever been and instead of his mom helping me with Bode those first few days, she had to tend to poor Jamie.

My only constant last week was Fat Kitty. I’ll admit it: sometimes when I’m overwhelmed with stress, I look at his lackadaisical life and think, “I’d just like to be him one day.” Let me tell you: I was him–passed out all week long and it was highly overrated.

When Jamie walked into the bedroom one night, he confirmed, “The only thing more pathetic in this house than you is the cat.”

While on the subject, there is a lot of curiosity surrounding Fat Kitty, usually re: what he eats. I hate to disappoint but he honestly is a light eater–he has about 3/4 of a bowl of kitty food per day and the occasional kitty treat. He does not eat human food.

So, how did he get so fat? He was big when we brought him home from the shelter. Possible explanations are that the fat dude is just big-boned (and large stomached). Or maybe he has a thyroid problem.

But my friend Stacey in Calgary sent me an article about a cat that is assuredly Fat Kitty’s evil twin. I mean, take a gander.

Fat Kitty:

Evil twin, Fat Boy.

Fat brothers from another mother.

Anyhew, for anyone who has ever been on diet, you will get a crack out of Fat Dude’s weight-loss plan…and his MacGyver-esque moves to swipe food. He has become an Internet sensation in Canada.

For obvious reasons. Read on:

A fat cat living at a Saskatchewan animal shelter has managed to squeeze his way into the hearts of many.

Fat Boy, an eight-year-old tabby cat, has eaten himself into becoming the Moose Jaw Humane Society’s poster kitty for healthy eating — even if he isn’t entirely sold on the idea.

Even so, he’s generated quite the fan base, which is growing thanks to the society’s Facebook page that includes what they’ve dubbed “Fat Boy Fridays.”

Karla Pratt, the fundraising and promotions director, said Fat Boy was surrendered to them in 2006 because his then-owners said they couldn’t keep him because he was eating their other cats’ food.

In those days, the tubby tabby was known as Boots — but that soon changed after he was allowed out of his kennel and into the free-range cat population.

“We have free-range feeding stations around the shelter for these cats so they can kind of come at their own leisure and eat,” Pratt said. “This was probably not the best idea for a cat that was already a little bit big. He was able to help himself and he did so gladly, and over time he assumed the moniker of Fat Boy.”

It was during one of the feline’s yearly checkups that the vet warned that if staff didn’t get his weight under control, he’d end up with some serious health problems. It was during that visit they discovered he weighed 23 pounds — almost 10 pounds more than he should.

By then, Fat Boy had already developed quite a local following, drawing regular visitors to the humane society to see him. (He is now a permanent resident and no longer up for adoption.)

“People will make a special trip to the shelter just to say hi to Fat Boy,” she said. “We’ve got our regulars who come to visit him and they’re always upset if they can’t find him.”

But there is a place where the popular puss can always be found — Facebook. The society started its site several months ago, and when Fat Boy’s diet officially started five weeks ago, it became a weekly event on the page — with weigh-in Fridays referred to fondly as “Fat Boy Fridays.”

It’s a slow process, to which many dieters can attest. With a goal to weigh 15 pounds, Fat Boy has some distance to go — and he isn’t making it easy for staff. While he hasn’t lost his easygoing, couch potato personality, he’s shown staff he can be quite the resourceful furball when it comes to food.

They were stumped during a previous weigh-in when they discovered he’d gained back the two ounces he’d lost the week before. The answer soon became clear.

“We went out into the main cat adoption room and here he was stealing food from one of the caged cats’ kennels,” Pratt said. “He had reached in, tipped the bowl over and was scarfing it down off the floor as quickly as he could like a ravenous wolf.”

That particular problem was fixed by putting the caged cats’ food dishes at the back of the cages where they’re out of reach. Staff have had to be equally resourceful in keeping up with Fat Boy’s other methods of securing extra food while contending with restricted-calorie food and smaller, controlled portions.

“He is very determined to get any food that we have down,” Pratt said. “He’s in there like a dirty shirt, so we really have to be careful where we leave the food even around the shelter now. We do have a food room and we have to keep everything else locked up in cupboards where he cannot open the doors or else get a big Rubbermaid tub type of thing where he can’t get into it — because he will actually rip the bags open. So we need to be very strict with him, that’s for sure.”

One method they’ve tried has been a box with a hole cut out — big enough for only the slimmer cats to squeeze through to get the food inside. It’s still a work in progress as staff discovered Fat Boy was reaching in and grabbing the forbidden food.

“He’s a bit of a MacGyver,” Pratt said.

Throughout the process, Fat Boy has had plenty of support, with the Facebook page showing comments from right across North America.

Fat Boy’s girlfriend, six-year-old Mama Cat, has been equally loyal, Pratt said.

“He is her big ball of fun,” she said. “She has told us that she will not judge him by his size and she will remain loyal to him no matter how famous he gets.”

Pratt said she hopes pet owners learn the importance of keeping their furry family members at a healthy weight.

“He’s going to set a good example for all the other overweight felines out there, and dogs too for that matter,” Pratt said. “It’s never too late to lose weight and get onto a healthy regime.”

(See Fat Boy on CNN).

Why there will be no pumpkin weigh-offs this year

Life has been rather silent in the pumpkin patch these days. The reason? There is great mourning in the land.

When Jamie first started his season with two seedlings in his makeshift growroom last spring, they were literally busting out of the pots within a week. Jamie planted them in the ground a bit early, covered them with a hoop house and warmed them with a heater.

That first night, they froze to death.

Since it was still early in the season, Jamie’s pumpkin buddies came to the rescue by giving him a couple of starter plants. He commenced the process again and before long, he was growing one of the biggest pumpkins in Colorado. “Ricky” (Gervais) was on-track to top 1,100 pounds, Jamie’s personal best.

Then August 19, 2011 happened: Jamie discovered a crack in the cavity.

Personally, I think it looks like a pumpkin butt crack picture.

This shot is much better:

An internal crack called a Dill Ring formed inside the pumpkin and intersected a deep rib and split the pumpkin open. This means it is now rotting out. Any pumpkin with a crack in it is automatically disqualified from the weigh-offs to prevent cheaters from pumping water into it to up the weight.

Personally, I’d go for lead.



That left Jamie’s only other pumpkin: Jerry (Seinfeld). From the start, good ol’ Jerry has grown a lot slower and Jamie didn’t have big hopes for it.

Then August 27, 2011 happened: Jamie discovered a crack, which means his pumpkin season is now over. Over the next couple of weeks, he’ll try to fill the cracks with sulphur and caulk to prolong the plants from rotting out before we can showcase them on our driveway this fall.

So, how am I feeling about it all?

I’ll be honest. When Jamie’s pumpkin got taken out from the tornado a couple of years ago, I wasn’t very sad. He was far enough into the season that he couldn’t start over but it was early enough that I could have my husband back for the rest of the summer.

This latest hit is the worst. As a pumpkin widow, this is the one time of the year I actually look forward to. September is replete with pumpkin festivals, our annual pumpkin party and the weigh-offs. Now, he’s put in the work the entire season and has absolutely nothing to show for it.

The other day in the car, I confessed:

“This whole season has been a roller-coaster ride with a big letdown. I have to admit I’m over it.”

Jamie: “You have to be ‘into it’ to be ‘over it.’”

Touché

Today’s knee surgery: It’s all downhill from here

I lived in Salt Lake City for five years after graduating from BYU. During that time, I explored every trail along the Wasatch Front but there was one standout. Rain, snow or shine, I’d arise before dawn and would run Red Butte Skyline Trail, arriving at the crest of the mountain just as the sun kissed the Salt Lake Valley.

And yes, I did say run.

As in uphill.

By choice.

Since moving to Colorado, I’ve often longed to return to Red Butte but there has never been the perfect opportunity. When I was in Utah last summer, I finally found one thanks to my mother-in-law who offered to watch the kids for a couple of hours.

I drove through former military garrison Fort Douglas and passed the entrance to Red Butte Garden Arboretum. I followed the tree-lined gravel road to the cosseted parking area.

For the past two years, I’ve had to relinquish running due to my bum knee so I hiked a trail that starts on a closed-off service road and gradually climbs along gurgling Red Butte Creek. Deeply furrowed Western River Birches lined the path as I crossed over the creek and started the steep climb.

I wanted to run. I needed to run. In a move right out of Star Wars when Yoda limps to the fight scene with his cane and proceeds to kick Count Dooku’s butt, I kicked it into gear. Backpack bouncing, hair flailing, I grew wings as I flew along that trail.

OK, so maybe I was going downhill but work with me here.

It was a taste of the former life I loved and desperately missed.

Today, I am going under the knife for my knee surgery.

And hope to take flight again soon.

At long last: the sordid details of my joyride to Paris

On Friday, my 7-year-old daughter did not come home on the bus as expected.

In a frenzy, I tore over to her school and was terrified when the staff was unable to locate her. “Haddie’s teacher said she got on a bus but we’re not sure which one,” they assured me.

As I was conjuring up every worse-case scenario in the book, they located her on the same bus she rides in the morning, which is different than her afternoon bus. Call me crazy but switching up the route…and bus number…is confusing for young kids.

And mortified parents.

I posted my angst to my friends on Facebook and while most were sympathetic, some of my closer friends blamed me, citing “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, Amber.” And exactly are they referring to? My accidental joy ride in Europe.

When I was 21, CLICK HERE TO READ ON AT MILEHIGHMAMAS.COM

How to spend the perfect Colorado day

As a family travel writer I am often asked by visitors, “If you were new to Denver and had just one day to see the nearby back- country, what would you do?”

Today, we did IT:

Namely, hiked to St. Mary’s Glacier and indulged in one of BeauJos Pizza’s famous mountain pies in nearby Idaho Springs, Colo.

St. Mary’s Glacier is one of the top tourist destinations in the area and for good reason: it’s located 45 minutes from Denver just 9 miles off I-70. I’ve done this hike every year since I moved to Denver.

Well, with the exception of when we arrived at the trailhead a couple of years ago and Jamie ran over Hadley’s foot with the car.

Gracious parents that we are, we let her forgo our annual adventure.

This is the second year in a row our kids have hiked to St. Mary’s Glacier by themselves. I wouldn’t call this a particularly easy hike (it’s really steep and rocky without adequate signage) but it is relatively short (just 3/4 mile to the base of the glacier).

There is also a big change this year. The lack of parking has been problematic and we were usually forced to perch on the shoulder of the road overlooking a steep cliff. Remember when Jamie ran over Haddie’s foot? That occurred whilst precariously parking. This year, they have a designated overflow lot that’ll cost you $5.

Well worth it to avoid trips to the hospital.

The steep, rocky hike:

Overlooking St. Mary’s Glacier and lake.

The 1.5-mile round-trip hike to the base of the glacier is only the start of the adventures. Every year, Hadley begs to go higher and higher. By next year, she’ll be capable enough to summit the darn thing along with the kamikaze skiers and snowboarders. This year, we held Adventure Girl back as much as we could.

It’s only a matter of time ’til she’s hauling her skis up there.

And dragging her poor mother down with her.

(Topping off a perfect day with BeauJo’s BBQ Chicken Mountain Pie in Idaho Springs)

Getting There: Take I-70 West from Denver, past Idaho Springs’ three exits. Take the next exit marked “Fall River Road.” Just past the bottom of the ramp, take a right (north) on Fall River Road. Follow this road up approximately 9 miles to one of two parking areas for the clearly marked trailhead to St. Mary’s Glacier.

School’s Back….From Summer (and Bode’s anxieties)

I’ll be jumping around quite a bit the next couple of weeks as I post the rest of our summer adventures but for the the sake of the grandparents, today was the first day back at school!

We started out with a special breakfast of pancakes with fresh raspberries and fruit smoothies. For special occasions, I always bring out our “You Are Special Today” plate. Starting kindergarten at a new school trumps entering second grade so Bode got the plate. In the sweetest little voice, he queried, “Am I special today, Mommy?”

You’d better believe, it Buddy.

But so is this gorgeous girl.

Haddie’s outfit is courtesy of a shopping spree with Grandma B. in Canada. Bode’s ensemble is thanks to Grandma J.

It was my best back-to-school shopping year ever.

I’m thrilled both kids scored the best teachers at the school. Haddie already adored hers and many of her closest friends are in her class. But the greatest news of all? Their class pet is a hamster! As in a real one! At back-to-school night, her teacher had a sign-up sheet for kids to take Gracie the hamster home every weekend for an entire month! Imagine the excitement!

That is one thing I conveniently forgot to volunteer for at back-to-school night.

Entering kindergarten is a big milestone but for some reason, I wasn’t overly sentimental about it. This is likely because Bode will only be in class for 2.5 hours a day, less time than preschool. Next year when he’s in school full-time will be a bigger adjustment for us all.

Bode is a pretty go-with-the-flow kind of kid and though he’s initially a bit reserved, he has no problems making friends. However, I have sensed some deep-rooted anxieties about kindergarten because he doesn’t know anyone.

Let me scratch that: he doesn’t know any boys.

We have two girls from church who are in his kindergarten class but in Bode’s world, they don’t count. I first realized he was anti-girls when we were at Coscto’s food court a couple of years ago. A few darling girls from his preschool came over and I kid you not–they fawned all over him. Bode was mortified and didn’t even look up from eating his hot dog despite my many pleas to be social.

After they left, I asked him why he wasn’t friendly and he excused his behavior with, “I was hungry,” which is boy-code for “I don’t like girls.

Problem is, girls really like him because he’s cute, thoughtful and nice.

Of course, that will all change in a few years when they start going for the bad boys. Sadly, Bode doesn’t realize these are his years to capitalize on their affections.

There are three kindergarten classes at Bode’s school: the morning class (his), the afternoon class and an all-day class. Knowing his apprehension about making friends, I took him to a kindergarten playdate on Saturday so he could mingle with his peeps. Problem was we couldn’t find even one boy in his class so he buddied up with an all-day kindergartener.

Who was, of course, a boy.

This morning, Jamie and I arrived at the school early with the kids. Bode’s classroom is in the 2nd grade area so Hadley will be right next door. The kindergarteners were required to line-up against the wall before going in. At first he looked pretty chill until a girl arrived. And then another girl. Then more girls. I kid you not–at one point, there were eight girls and just Bode.

Basically, it was his worst nightmare.

A few token boys arrived later but that didn’t dispel his anxieties when saying good-bye.

The 2.5 hours flew by but when I picked him up, he was a different kid. He enthusiastically rambled on about the class rules (don’t know who gets excited about that), why kindergarten is better than preschool (they have a library) and that he made a friend (Trey).

He also had a couple of boys who will assuredly become his BFFs because they complimented him on his backpack.

Mario: The great bonder for boys everywhere.

Why I might drown for the 2011-12 school year

Friday was our back-to-school night. For the first time, my kids will be at the same school: my daughter is entering second grade and my son is in kindergarten.

Before you start congratulating me that I have “arrived,” kindergarten is for a measly 2.5 hours, a mere drop in the bucket in the downpour of motherhood.

What I hoped to get out of the evening: Meet my children’s teachers, deliver their school supplies, connect them with future classmates, and point out the bathrooms (it’s best to keep expectations low).

What I got: All of the above and so much more. (Side note: the bathroom were locked.)

I have admittedly held off on being involved in the school. I volunteered in my daughter’s classroom a couple of times a month and helped with class parties but avoided joining the PTA because of my already overbooked schedule.

It’s not that I don’t believe in the PTA–I’m truly grateful for the volunteers who work so hard. It’s just that I’m an all-or-nothing person. It’s easier for me to boycott things upfront rather than get sucked in when others aren’t stepping up. The outcome is usually that I become the one leading the charge.

You could say I have control issues. Or lack-of-control as it pertains to just saying “no.”

At the kindergarten orientation the night prior, there were two presenters. The first was the PTA President who coincidentally gave a private swim lesson to my water-shy son last summer and taught him to conquer his fears. I hedged on the idea of finally joining the PTA.

Until the next woman stood up. She heads up a completely separate committee called “Accountability” that deals with the nuts and bolts of the school. Budgets. Development. Bonds. Mill levies. This group works closely with the district and makes things happen.

While the subject matters sound tedious to a right-brainer like me, I’ve long wanted to become familiar with the school’s inner workings and find out why things happen the way they do. I was sold when I heard the only commitment was once a month for a 1.5-hour meeting and I signed up at back-to-school night.

As I walked away from the table, the PTA President interjected, “OK, now sign up for PTA!”

The PTA? Had she not just seen me sign up for Accountability, my token contribution? As I started to decline, my PTA-cheerleader friend Lisa swooped in and before I knew it, my all-or-nothing approach had turned into “all” as I also signed up for the PTA.

Rah rah rah.

I later tried to justify what had happened. I mean, the woman taught my son to swim. How could I NOT sign up?

I’m just hoping the 2011-12 school year will not be my year to drown.