Welp, we had the best ever family vacation to YMCA of the Rockies a few weeks ago! Now, “best ever” meant different things to different people. For Jamie, it meant I completely lost my voice and could only murmur sweet nothings in his ear. For me, it meant I was out of the house. Thankfully, Hadley was in a great mood the entire time. Oh, and she slept through the night. That makes “The Best Ever” list for both of us.

We called it our Crazy-Fun Weekend. Each time we’d say that, Haddie would obligingly throw her head back and raucously do her Crazy-Fun Laugh. Someday she’ll look at us in disgust and pray no one will see us participate in such corny activities. But for now, we’re milking it.

Our mountain resort was idyllic. A huge storm blew threw on Thursday, leaving a blanket of powder and bluebird conditions. We had planned to snowshoe and skate but since going up the stairs made me cough up my only good lung, we downgraded our activities. We still knocked a few baskets down on the basketball court, went swimming, played with the stuffed elk in the lobby, and pigged out on the buffet free times a day.

But the real highlight was sledding and playing in the snow at the Nordic Center. The tubing hill was abuzz with activity, mostly teens dog-piling and trying to kill each other. Hadley looked at them in wonder…and then proceeded to pummel down the steep slope in her little sled, absolutely annihilating her competition.

They marveled at her: “How old is she?” they’d ask. Proud Papa Jamie would humbly reply “Oh, she’s only 1.” I think he was secretly plotting her Olympic prospects in the luge.

Our little speed demon was also in her element at the base of the mountain when Jamie put her in a tube, grabbed a rope and spun her around in circles. He had her going so fast her body was sloped over and her neck flung back as she squealed with delight. I thought for sure her head would pop off but it held strong.

It’s a good thing, too, because after a year of questioning if her neck even existed during her Jabba/Chub phase, she recently discovered she had one.

We rushed home to watch the sad demise of Jamie’s Broncos. OK, he watched, I napped. We’re both feeling a bit bummed–he, because of his team. Me, because it’s painful to see a grown man cry. Oh, and because I’m going to have to have to endure his nappy 1999 Broncos Superbowl sweatshirt for at least another year.

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

I absolutely love the Olympics! In my long, illustrious life, I have been privileged to live in two Olympic cities: Calgary and Salt Lake City. I was only 16 when the Olympics came to my hometown but old enough to attend many of the events. In the evenings, my friends and I would head down to the Olympic Plaza for the medals ceremony and hang with folks from all over the world. I still remember how cool we thought it was to get hit on by drunken Europeans (we obviously didn’t get out much back in those days.)

In 2002, I was living in Salt Lake City when the Olympics arrived. For my birthday, my friend Dave suggested we try to scalp some hockey tickets for the Canada vs. Finland quarterfinals. For those Americans out there who have blocked this out: Canada swept the hockey golds that year, so this was a big game.

It was the ultimate Olympic experience and worth every expensive penny we paid. I was shocked at our seats. We were right behind the goal-line and mere rows away from The First Family. Noooo, not those Bushes but the First Family of hockey–the Gretzky’s! I was in maple-leaf HEAVEN!

Now, one would think this night could not get better but I assure you that it did. But at a cost. We quickly made friends with the couple sitting next to us. I got a kick out of the man’s outfit: he had a Canadian maple-leaf shaped hat, a Canadian jersey and was wearing a Canadian flag. I felt an immediate bond to him and asked where in the Motherland he was from and chuckled at his reply: Oregon. I guess if you can’t beat us, join us….

All was going smoothly and I was behaving rather well. However, I cannot vouch for the other rowdy Canucks around us. Dave commented that Canadians and beer don’t mix. I didn’t have the heart to tell him how out of hand they USUALLY get when drinking beer that actually exceeds Utah’s 0.000001% alcohol content.

So anyway, back to how I was behaving so well. It all came crumbling down in an instant. We were cheering with the crowd when, looming high above us, I caught a glimpse at the Jumbo-tron. And a very familiar and goofy-looking guy with a maple-leaf hat. And without thinking, without hesitation, without guile, I, welp, dive-bombed into his lap and was broadcast for all to see. And I was a hit! I’d say I would have been awarded at least a 5.8 for my dive and the audience’s elated reaction would’ve won me the gold for sure.

And then Canada went on to win the game–the perfect end to a near-perfect evening. Really, the only downer was the butt-whooping I received from Mr. Maple Leaf’s jealous wife after jumping in his lap. “Canadian hussy,” she called me. The nerve. Some people just don’t understand the price of fame.

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

The best premarital advise we received was from Jamie’s fun-loving Aunt Kathy. For years, she had to remind her husband of every major milestone in their lives. One anniversary, she decided to not mention it and see if he remembered. Of course, he didn’t.

That brought out the flood gates and her anger was unleashed. Until she listened to a radio show that addressed this topic and posed the question: “Why do we test our significant others? Instead of having them prove their love, why can we just not tell them what we want and help them be successful?” This latter point has been the mantra of our marriage and the key in our communication efforts as we ensure both of our needs are met.

But then came Hadley. Even though she is delightful much of the time, she’s also into her toddler tantrums and is not sticking to the family motto. In fact, she shirks it in anyway possible. At 21 months, she has good language skills and is able to communicate her basic needs. However for her, this is not acceptable. Instead of saying “Jew,” [juice], she is more of the personality type that is aching to say, “Get me some juice, Mother Slave of Mine.”

The other day, we had some major meltdowns. Hadley was trying to tell me something but despite my best efforts, I just couldn’t comprehend what it was. She finally threw herself on the ground and in her best oppressed-and-frustrated-wife-fit, she appeared to scream, “If you loved me, you’d know what I’m trying to sayyyyyyy.”

I already fear for her husband.

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

February is well underway. With our anniversary, Valentine’s Day and my birthday, I have decided it should instead be christened Amberary. I mean, it makes more sense. As a young lass, I could never understand its archaic spelling. Any logical person would spell it Febuary, the way it is pronounced.

Now that we’re both feeling better, I have been immensely enjoying Hadley these days. Sure, living with a toddler is like living with someone with bi-polar disorder. But juxtapose that against her nightmarish colicky first months and I’ll take her mood swings any day!

Lately, I have been marveling about how her little personality is shining through. She truly is an obsessively social being. Everything in her 21-month-old existence centers around people. We went to a party on Saturday night with loads of kids. Before we even finished walking through the door, she took off and we didn’t see her again until the evening was over. In fact, she looked surprised to see us when we came to get her, as if to say “Oh yeah, we DID come together, didn’t we?”

She is also talking a mile a minute these days…and sometimes even makes sense. I’ve been trying to teach her to count but we’ve run into a bit of a roadblock. Y’see, she refuses to say 1. She has no problems rattling off 2, 3, 4, etc. but no matter how we try to bribe her, it is the only word that she obstinately refuses to say. At first, I was perplexed. But then one night as she threw a fit about being left alone in her crib at bedtime, her cries distinctly started forming the words, “One is the loneliest number…”

I should have known it was a mistake to let our social butterfly listen to Jamie’s secret collection of Three Dog Night’s Greatest Hits.

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

My secret is out! I had hoped to keep it all a surprise until after the Opening Ceremonies of the Olympics but Hadley blew my cover yesterday. We were shopping in Safeway when, in the middle of the cereal aisle, she started yelling “Moooommy, Mooooommy” whilst pointing.

Confused, I looked around until I spotted the focus of her attention. There, on the Frosted Flake box, was my smiling face. I had completely forgotten about that photo shoot a few months ago! Haddie grabbed the box, yelled “Mommy” again and then her focus turned to Tony the Tiger, who’s pointing at me in the picture. Still mesmerized, Haddie queried “Tigger?” as if to say “How could you not tell me you knew my friend Tigger?” I didn’t have the heart to tell her it was only his cousin.

Of course, I’m a little miffed they got got my name wrong on the box and put Lindsey Jacobellis’ instead. But Hadley was not fooled; she knew it was me. And, after all, children never lie, RIGHT?….

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

Hadley is slowing starting to take interest in the children’s programs on TV. Since most of them drive me bonkers (with Tinky Twinky rumored to be gay, not to mention overstuffed, psychedelic Boobah that is crack cocaine for kids), I have not encouraged her to watch. Go figure.

Except for Sesame Street. Now that is a program I can get my hands around. I have visions of self-taught Hadley calling out numbers with the Count and singing the alphabet with Big Bird and Friends. Sure, Ernie and Burt may have more than a platonic relationship (what’s up with the community bubble bath scenes?) but Haddie doesn’t care. Just so long as she is at a fifth grade reading level by kindergarten…that’s all I have to ask.

As we were driving to the grocery store the other day, I told her that if she was a good girl, she would get a cookie from the bakery (I am not above bribery as a parent). As I said that, she took her little hands and started cramming them into her mouth whilst making an avaricious sound of devourment. I was a bit shocked so said it again: “Cookie,” followed by a repeat performance.

And then finally, I clued in. “Hadley, are you the Cookie Monster?” Delight followed my understanding as she continued to demolish her imaginary cookie.

Nice to see Public Programming is helping her get one-step closer to Child Prodigy Status.

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

Last night, Jamie scored us some suite tickets for the Avalanche game against the Dallas Stars. For those lowlifes who’ve never been in a suite (OK, admittedly, I was one of ‘em until I married Mr. He-Who-Has-Connections) allow me to expand upon how the better half lives.

Watching from a suite is a completely different experience. First, even though moments ago you were with the masses in the lobby, somehow when you enter your little box you feel like you’re on top of the world. Kinda like when I go for weeks with a filthy car and start passing judgment upon everyone else’s dirt the moment I finally make it to the car wash. Snobbery. It ain’t pretty but it sure feels good once and a while.

Second, a little printout of the game summary appears after every period. Not that I care about how much T.O.I. (time on ice) each player has and other such useless knowledge. Of course, the ESPN stats junkies of the world would be in hog heaven.

Third, there is suite envy. You have some suites that are fully loaded with oodles of food and drinks. Ours was not one of them. We got water. Oh yeah, and ice. We had to resort to buying food from the vendors, where you have to mortgage your house just to pay for a hamburger. The folks in the suite next to us had the works–fabulous food, drinks and desserts. And yes, there was envy.

I had my strategy all planned out. I would hop over the barrier, ask if I could use their restroom (ours was out of soap) and while everyone was watching the game, clean out the joint. However, Jamie said this would not be appropriate suite behavior. He would’ve changed his tune the moment he sunk his teeth into their chocolate cake with little decadent suite sprinkles on it. His loss. And what’s the worse that could’ve happened? OK, an arrest. But I could’ve made the news: “Pregnant Lady Fakes Pee and Cleans Out Suite.”

Now THAT would’ve been a suite memory…..

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

The first rule in marriage should be to just go along with what the other spouse is doing or saying. No questions asked. Even if the truth is stretched just a weeeee bit. I mean, as long as it’s not hurting anyone, right? Hunky Hubby ignored this cardinal rule last night.

We had a meeting at the church. I’d been out for two weeks with this dumb flu and this was my first public appearance. Translation: I wanted to make it look good. We ran into some people, and in my best I-want-sympathy-deep-guttural-sick voice, I struck up a conversation about my sufferings. Jamie took one look at me and in his most revealing voice, exclaimed, “Hey Amber, why wasn’t your voice like that a few minutes ago?”

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

I am not a football fan. I really don’t have anything against the Broncos and their bid for the Superbowl. I just don’t have anything for them. And the way this city has because uber obsessed with their hometown heroes, you’d think we’d just taken over the world.

Unfortunately, I am married to one of them. For a while now, we have had a family trip planned to the mountains for this weekend. The weekend of The Big Game. Jamie is losing sleep over it.

“So, do you think our room will have a TV?”
“Nope. One word: TiVo.”

Truth be told, I wouldn’t mind bailing on the whole trip because I’m sicker than ever but it’s the principle of the matter. Besides, I’d rather suffer in a beautiful mountain lodge than in a sea of blue and orange.

I complained to Jamie just how obnoxious I thought all the publicity had become: Bronco songs on the radio, countless ads and articles everywhere in the media. But the REAL topper came today on Page 6 in the paper. A page that should be dedicated to murder, drought and famine. You know. The good stuff. And the headline? Broncos Fans Could Get Fuzzy. http://www.rockymountainnews.com/drmn/local/article/0,1299,DRMN_15_4399137,00.html . This article actually had pictures of about 12 local celebrities with Jake Plummer’s beard photoshopped onto them. Including women.

What’s next? Fans bartering a free vasectomy for two Bronco’s tickets. Oh wait. Too late…..

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

Disclaimer: The following observation was made at a crosswalk on the way to buy some cough medicine after Hunky Hubby had spent three sleepless nights tending to sickly Haddie and me.

“Hey Amber, have you ever wondered if they programmed the lights in the ‘Do Not Walk’ sign a certain way, if it could look like someone is flipping you off?”

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