I have instituted a new rule at our house: NO GROWING UP!

Of course, this is met with resistance as the kids gleefully retort, “YES to growing up!”

Hadley and Bode are both at the stage where I wish I could bottle them up and keep them this way forever. We are finally past the sometimes-tedious baby stage and they are both reasonably independent. They are delighted by the most simple things and the world is magical to them.

At 2 1/2 years old, Bode has yet to take The Descent Into Hell That Was the Terrible 3s and Hadley (who will be turning 5 in May) has blossomed into a story-telling machine. She will spend hours writing “books” and often takes that long to relay her detailed stories and pictures to us. Her imagination and ability to entertain remind me of someone I knew a long time ago.

Let’s just hope she doesn’t turn into a geek who frustrates her teachers when she submits stories that are several pages over the allotted limit.

Though perhaps “geek” is a strong word. I preferred “ambitious.”

Last week, Jamie and I took the kids on a hike. Haddie is already an intrepid hiker and can go for a few miles while I carry Bode in the backpack. This time, we decided to let Bode walk until he got tired. Only he didn’t wear out. In fact, he practically sprinted more than 1,000 vertical feet up the mountain. Jamie and I kept looking at each other in puzzlement and only assisted by holding his hand during the steep parts.

As we reached the summit, I snapped this picture.

It was one of those sobering and exhilarating days when you are reminded you can’t keep them young forever.

Then again, maybe that’s a good thing. Hauling his 30 pounds up the mountain was getting a bit old.

Or maybe I am.

I never aspired to be a stay-at-home mom.

Reflecting back upon it, I never aspired to do much of anything. It was not that I was lacking in ambition. I was that annoying overachiever in athletics and academics but I just didn’t know what I wanted to do when I “grew up.” I didn’t declare Broadcast Journalism as my major until my junior year of college. Even upon graduation, I did not know if I wanted to purse journalism or a career in public relations. Decisions were made day-by-day, minute-by-minute and I ended up dabbling in both.

Getting married and having a family were not on my radar in my 20s. I was too busy “finding myself,” traveling the world and having a good time. I never aspired to be the president of a company but opportunities came–an account executive with the corner office at a PR agency, a freelance gig as a travel writer. It wasn’t until my 30th birthday that I stopped to reflect upon it all and I surmised I had spent all this time climbing the ladder, only to realize it was leaning on the wrong wall.

Shortly thereafter, I met my husband, moved to Colorado, married and was pregnant six months later. My wanderlust life was grounded. When we discussed our childcare options, my husband humbly submitted he would like me to stay home and raise our children. I agreed. I never really saw it as a sacrifice but as the next step. I had seen what I wanted to see, done what I wanted to do.

My foray into motherhood with a colicky newborn was not smooth but I made the best of a sleepless situation. We hiked several times a week with Colorado Mountain Mamas. We were a regulars at the library’s storytime. We were in playgroups. I was a joiner, a doer as my Type-A single life transcended into motherhood. I desperately clung to some kind of structure as I tried to fill the daunting 12 hours before me every day.

Baby #2 came. I bought a double stroller and we did Everything X 2. Life continued at a frenetic pace as I immersed myself in everything around me. I started freelancing from home. Time passed, children grew.

One day not long ago on a lazy afternoon, I looked at my children playing in the backyard and a wave of joy overcame me. Somewhere along my journey, I had fallen in love with being at home with them. I wasn’t just filling my days, I was feeling them.

Not long after, a head hunter contacted me with a tempting offer to return to full-time work. I originally refused but my husband encouraged me to pursue it. He recently launched his own business that is going well but sustainability is always in question with our current economy. We decided that perhaps I would be the one to provide our financial stability.

And so with a heavy heart, I met with the team, the VP and the director. I loved the company, love the vision but agonized over the inevitability that working moms face every day: a lack of time with their children. Of course, most of us do the best we can and rationalize it is not quantity, it’s quality. But I was greedy: I wanted both.

I finally came to the decision that I would do what was best for my family. If offered the position, I would take it. If not, I would continue down our previous path. Those weeks were agonizing to me as I played with my children. Would this be the last time we would climb to the water tower in the morning? Would this be our final daytime playdate with friends who have become an important part of our lives?

In the end, I was not offered the position. I felt a hint of disappointment and then an overwhelming gush of relief. Now was not my time. I was given the gift to stay at home with my children for at least a little while longer. And while this is not necessarily the life I would have chosen, it is the life I am blessed to be living.

And I plan to take full advantage of it.

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

There are a few accomplishments I am proud about. Like when I convinced my friends that flushing the toilet purified the water, making it safe to drink. Or when I went all the way to France to attend a wedding and got lost and in a car accident, ultimately missing Said Wedding.

But today, I almost nailed it. I was #1,001 on the sign-up sheet for 5 Minutes for Mom’s Ultimate Blog Party–better late than never, right?

For first-time visitors, I am originally from Canada, went to college in Utah and moved to Colorado six years ago. My American husband and I have two little half-breeds: Hadley and Bode. They are known to run around outside in their bathing suits when it is 40 degrees and sing “Oh Canada” at inopportune times.

I am raising them correctly.

Unfortunately, I have absolutely no control over my husband who is obsessed with growing The Great Pumpkin.

And no, there was not full disclosure before we got married.

I used to be an adventure-travel writer and publicist in the outdoor industry. I started my blog back in 2004 and have thousands and thousands tens and tens of readers. I launched a site Mile High Mamas for the Denver Post, which is Colorado’s largest gathering of mommy bloggers.

I recently became active on Twitter (you can find me here) and am two people away from having 1,000 followers. Please follow me! Because as Ellen Degeneres recently said in her monologue of Facebook vs. Twitter: “Followers are much better than friends.”

I certainly hope we can become both!

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

Scene–Ravenous Hubby walks into the kitchen after working out with his dad. Wife is making cookies for a sick friend.

Wife: I just wrote a post about the Disney on Ice “Influencer” event.

Husband: Yeah?

Wife: The jist of it was that ALL moms are Influencers, not just those in the public eye.

Husband: Oh, really. Aren’t you supposed to save that kind of stuff for Mother’s Day?

Wife: Mothers want to be appreciated year-round, James.

Husband: I don’t argue with a woman making cookies.

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Jamie writes little reminders for himself on Outlook:

“Conference call at 3 p.m.”

“Send mock-up to client by 5 p.m.”

This is what one would expect and many of his entries are along these lines. Until I noticed he had two very peculiar entries:

“Turn lights on” and “turn lights off.”

I did not think to ask him about it and forgot about the whole thing. Until I went to our basement and discovered this little gem in the closet of the children’s playroom:

Yes, my friends. This makeshift greenhouse means that Pumpkin Season 2009 has begun. Actually, it never really ended and he has been out rototilling his new pumpkin patch and dreaming about seeds all winter. His goal is to tip the scales at 1,000 pounds this year and he will also grow one for each of the kids.

You will note the fourth member of the family is not included in the pumpkin plans.

Evidently, I don’t have as much influence as I would have liked.

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

Mile High Mamas was happy to give away six family four-packs of tickets to Disney on Ice last week.

To assist with their promotions, Feld Entertainment teamed up with consulting firm Mom Central to identify key “Influencers” in the community to spread the word about a discount coupon code and to hold local contests that created a buzz about the event.

The effects of their local campaign were far-reaching, even down to Haddie who fretted before the show, “But what if I fall on the ice?”

Evidently, the marketing was a bit too effective: the kid thought she was starring in it along with her Disney cohorts.

As a thank you to these Influencers, Feld and Mom Central held an event prior to the show where these families met The Incredibles, were fed a simple dinner, mingled and talked about upcoming events. My favorite part of the evening was not the show itself but when each of these moms stood up to introduce themselves.

We were not the public official who makes important policy changes. We were not the coiffed news anchor reporting the day’s events. We were not the president of a company whose decisions affect thousands of people.

We are like Paula who sacrifices her time to homeschool her children and is a part of a homeschooling co-op. We are like Suzanne, the dynamic single mom of six who works her butt off as a secretary to provide for her family. We are like Sarah who just lost her mom and yet manages to keep everyone laughing around her. We are like Barb who explained to me that her son’s gorgeous long, curly hair was to hide the scars he has received from multiple brain surgeries.

I walked away from this experience with a resonating sense of purpose for every mom out there. WE ARE ALL INFLUENCERS–in our schools, our churches, our communities and most importantly our homes.

And it’s about time we remembered that.

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

I was not going to address all the controversy surrounding HBO’s decision to misrepresent the LDS temple ceremony in their polygamy drama “Big Love” but I received a deluge of emails from readers asking about my opinion. A number of you who read this blog are Mormon. An even bigger number of you are not and my goal has always been to walk that line very respectfully and carefully.

My opinion is in line with the LDS church’s official statement at The Publicity Dilemma. Am I surprised Hollywood decided to exploit something sacred? No. As far as values go, most of us are in agreement that Hollywood is about as debase as it gets and yet we have somehow formed our society to worship these fallen idols.

A number of years ago, a friend was marveling at my dedication to the LDS church. I have not always known it was true and went through a time of great soul-searching. But once I received my own witness, I have never looked back.

This friend asked when all was said and done and I was at the “Pearly Gates” and I found out I was wrong about everything, would I regret the path I chose?

This gave me pause to think. Is being a member of the LDS church easy? No. We attend church every week and everyone is given various “callings” that range from working with the children, to the youth and adults. We are often called upon to help others in need any time of the day. We are encouraged to serve in our communities and have endured our fair share of persecution. We refrain from alcohol, drugs and tobacco and remain faithful to our spouses.

Sound impossible to some of you? My reward is simple: joy in living a pure life. I know where I came from, who I am and where I am going. I have never been a slave to an addiction and have a spouse I know will always remain faithful to me because of the covenants we made in the temple that bind us eternally. I believe in the same organization that existed in the Primitive Church, namely, apostles, prophets, and temples. I do not believe the heavens are sealed and through the proper priesthood authority, God continues to reveal His will and Jesus Christ is the only way to return to Him.

Will I ever regret the path I have chosen, though it has not been easy? Never.

Anyone who has any religious background knows the significance of temples and has heard of Hindu, Greco-Roman, Solomon’s and Herod’s temples. When studying in Egypt at the Temple of Luxor, I was amazed to see hieroglyphics of sacred temple ceremonies openly displayed on the temple walls.

When teaching a former Master Mason on my mission in Switzerland, he revealed sacred tokens and signs that the Freemasons have passed down through the ages in their Masonic Temples.

When I lived in Jerusalem and visited the Dome of the Rock, I respected the strict code of conduct. I stood in reverence as Muslims knelt to pray five times a day during The Call to Prayer.

I regularly went to the Western Wall, a holy place the Jews venerate as the sole remnant of the Holy Temple.

I tearfully watched as they placed slips of paper containing written prayers into the crevices of the Wall.

There is beauty in belief.

For Mormons and millions of people of many different faiths, it is not about keeping “secrets.”

It is about keeping sacred things sacred.

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

I will admit there was a moment’s hesitation about including my previous post’s picture of Bode when he lost the fight with the wall after transitioning to a big-boy bed.

Or when he put his head in the opening of my brother’s chair and I snapped a picture the exact moment he realized he was stuck.

Lest you think I only pick on Bode, Hadley assures you this is not the case.

I am an equal-opportunity humiliator.

Such as when I likened their passport pictures to mini-Taliban.

Really, can you blame me?

Sometimes, life hurts. Sometimes, circumstances suck. But almost always, there is room to laugh.

And cry.

Because who wouldn’t once you realized your life would be dedicated to serving The Great Pumpkin and your mother dressed you like one.

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Huuuuuuge favor: I need your vote. My PR friend Kelly nominated Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck for best blog in 5280 magazine’s Top of the Town, which is Denver’s guide to who’s who. I would love to give all those ultra-liberal or tech-driven blogs they usually feature a run for their money. Voting is so easy. Simply go to http://www.5280.com/tot/, enter your email, verify it, go to the voting page, click on “People” on the right-hand column and “Best blog/blogger” is near the top where you can enter CrazyBlogginCanuck.com.

I would appreciate a shout-out for the best lice-infested, pumpkin-obsessed family in Colorado!

Your reward? No lice for you and enough pumpkin to go around!

XOXOXO
Amber

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

Last week, we switched Bode out of his crib into a bed. We probably could have done it earlier but frankly, why would we if he seemed perfectly content in his four-walled prison?

I was not so worried about him trying to sneak out and conquer the world at midnight like Hadley did. What I was worried about is he is a wild sleeper and flails around in all directions. I should know. I slept with him at Delta Lodge Kananaskis in Canada. Or rather, he slept whilst using me as his punching bag.

We don’t have a rail on his bed but propped up some pillows to prevent him from falling. We talked up the “big-boy bed” and I think he was just a wee bit excited.

And so were we. His transition was seamless and best of all, he has yet to realize he can get out by himself so he patiently waits for me every morning.

I’m not telling him otherwise.

But then we woke up to this on Sunday morning:

You should see the other guy.

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

I really wanted to talk about something other than our outbreak of lice. I really did. Like how we had a memorable day rollerblading and picnicking in Washington Park. How Haddie has finally returned to preschool. How the weather has been glorious and we have been playing outside every day. How sweet Bode insisted we sing “I love to see the temple” during our entire hike yesterday.

But recent developments prohibit me from doing this.

It started when my dear friend Helga (name has been changed to protect the innocent) called me prior to picking Hadley up for preschool.

Me: It is always bad news when you call at 7:30 a.m.
Hegla: I hate you.

Helga then proceeded to tell me she found a delightful little black bug that morning in her daughter’s hair. A little black bug that had taken more than a week to incubate in Alex’s hair. And where there is one little black bug, there are inevitably many more. I was tempted to tell her to keep her leper colony to herself but it was Thursday and I was feeling particularly generous. I offered to bring her some Cetaphil (our miracle cure) to her house after I dropped my non-leprous daughter off at preschool.

Remember “May?”

Well, I introduced her to “Phil.”

Which, quite coincidentally, is her husband’s name.

Phil is, quite conveniently, in a third-world country, likely spreading the disease to other Innocents. And so good friend that I am, I donned my pink shower cap and scrubbed Helga’s hair with Cetaphil.

“Amber, you really are a great friend for doing this.”
“A great enough friend to give it to you in the first place.”

Because friends don’t give friends lice.

We went about our lice bonding ritual until a rather revealing document testified what they really think of me.

So much for gratitude.

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

It’s been quite a year. When not traveling to Keystone and Park City, we have been sick. I think I could count on one hand the number of days Hadley attended preschool in February. To add to the lice outbreak, she contracted a mild case of chicken pox.

Jamie said we were officially cursed with the 10 Plagues because chicken pox = boils.

I am praying locusts don’t come next.

We have miraculously kept our spirits up and the weather has been kind. Last week during our incarceration, we explored our neighborhood. We climbed the hill of a water tower that overlooked our gorgeous valley. Raced around a BMX track, discovered hidden ponds, jumped over streams, traumatized geese, played in the pumpkin patch, hiked Red Rocks. It was a glorious week of togetherness and I relished every moment of it because there may be some major changes coming my way.

Well, “relished every moment” except for the lice part. As my friend Garritt said in response to my estimated amount of hair in my last post:

Amber. Considering I am still finding blond hair amidst my belongings (from 8 years ago??), blond hair that has “Amber” written all over it’s genetic code, I assert that the seemingly liberal estimate of Amber hair, one billion, is a rather puny and highly conservative estimate.

He ain’t kidding. Getting through my one billion+ strands of hair was no small feat. Thank you for all your kind words of encouragement. In the end, what ended up working was a recommendation from my former neighbor Lauri to go to this site. You MUST bookmark this page if you are ever unfortunate to have lice because this treatment was the turning point. It steered us away from the harsh lice-busting shampoos towards Cetaphil.

Yes, a facial cleanser was what finally cured us. Basically, you apply an entire bottle of Cetaphil, rub it in, comb your hair, blow dry, let it work its magic for the next eight hours, and then wash it out. It suffocates the lice and during the treatment period, it leaves your hair stiff and greasy-looking. Hadley donned a sundress the entire day and looked like this:

I, on the other hand, looked more like this:

Of course after The Killing Fields, we still had to clean up the carnage. We have done a couple of minor olive oil and then mayonnaise treatments and have spent hours picking the dead nits out of our hair. We will likely still find them for a while but we finally have a clean bill of health to interact with the human race again.

Watch out, world.

When you are in quarantine, you feel extremely isolated. Imagine my delight to go to my doorstep and find this from my friend Julie:

Forget the well-intended flowers. A mayonaise treatment with shower cap to a lice-infested family = love.

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog