Paradise – Day Two

Yep...I was in a helicopter. No lie. — Yep…I was in a helicopter. No lie. Over Waimea Canyon even.

This morning Steve and I left the rest of the family behind and headed to the office of Blue Hawaiian Helicopters for our tour of Kauai. As soon as we’d booked our airline tickets and I’d begun my research about our destination, I knew we would have to take a helicopter tour. The guidebook said that “coming to Kauai and not taking a helicopter tour is like going to the Sistine Chapel and not looking up.” I was sold. I could not miss that opportunity. After careful research about the best tour companies, I confidently chose Blue Hawaiian, picked a random date early in our stay (just in case inclement weather dashed our first attempt at a ride), and committed the fee to our credit card. The deed was done.

So this morning we drove off toward our helicopter ride praying that the clouds would lift enough after last night’s heavy rains to afford us a memorable trip. Apparently all our finger crossing worked because the trip was amazing. Neither of us had ever been in a helicopter before, and we were anxious to cross it off our t0-do list. Our pilot Scott, a retired police force pilot from Texas, was a perfect host. Taking off from Lihue, we circled clockwise around the island, taking in the south shore (and some whales) before heading to Waimea Canyon and then over to the Na Pali coast. I’m fairly sure I spent the entire 55 minute flight shaking my head at the beauty. Un-be-liev-able. My favorite part of the trip was definitely our journey into Mt. Waialeale, the crater of the extinct volcano that formed this gorgeous island. It is one of the rainiest spots on earth, averaging over 430 inches of rain per year, and it shows. The steep, volcanic rock walls are blanketed in lush green carpets that ooze waterfalls. I’m still shaking my head as I write this.

After our tour, it took a while to get our heads back on straight. When we’d done that and had some lunch, we decided our next stop would be the north shore because as we’d flown over that part of the island in the morning it had been sunny. We headed through Wailua, Kapa’a, Anahola, and on our way to Princeville we saw the sign for ‘Anini Beach.

This particular beach had been on my list of beaches I wanted to visit for snorkeling, so we stopped. ‘Anini is fringed by a long reef, which keeps it protected from the pounding surf. I was at first disappointed that the bottom was so sandy and the fish were so scarce. But doggedly determined I am so, like Dory, I just kept swimming. After about ten minutes of seeing not a whole heck of a lot, I hit the jackpot. There, a hundred yards from shore, I found a lone green sea turtle feeding on the plants at the bottom of a sandy flat. I quickly popped my head up to signal to hubby and the boys but they were having technical difficulties with their gear. I had my turtle sighting, though, and I didn’t intend to let it go. I enjoyed 20 minutes swimming along with that turtle by myself, basking in the wonder of it all, joining it on the surface for air so I could see it out of water too. Not wanting to be a total turtle hog, though, I hung out there with my reptilian buddy long enough for Steve to adjust his equipment and share in the moment with me. Of course we’d left the waterproof camera back at the condo, so this guy will have to live in our memories.

When I’d debriefed the boys about what they had missed, it was back into the car to head on toward Hanalei. We stopped for our first shave ice and some shopping for gifts. Dinner was at Bubba’s Burgers (Kauai beef…had to do it) before taking a quick trip out to the sand at Hanalei Bay. The surf was too rough and the beach was closed for swimming, so we settled for watching the boys toss sticks into the ocean and delight when the waves returned them. Hanalei, despite its overcast and gloomy skies today, is a hard locale to beat. Everything about it is charming. We will need to head back up that way again in the next few days because we skipped the Kilauea Lighthouse and the bird sanctuary, and I would like to try the snorkeling at Tunnels Beach.

Overall it was another great day today. I might be pressing my luck by saying this, but I’m having a hard time imagining how this island could ever disappoint. Can’t wait to see what tomorrow will hold.

Chilling with my yoga pal Buddha, post snorkel adventure

Posted on 23/03/201323/03/2013 by Me

Paradise – Day One

On marker of paradise...at least for a gal from Colorado — On marker of paradise…at least for a gal from Colorado

We’re in paradise. We escaped from cold, snowy Colorado during the boys spring break and now we are on a family trip in Kauai. There are five of us (hubby, the boys, my mom, and I), and we’re all Hawaii virgins. Kauai, after hours of research, was on the top of my Hawaii must-see list. So after a very long day yesterday (awake at 4 a.m., 8.5 hours in the air, topped off with a four-hour time change), we at arrived in Lihue ready to rest up for our grand adventure.

This morning we were awake in the dark at 5 a.m. (courtesy of the aforementioned four-hour time difference). Anxious to start our vacation, we threw on our swimsuits, jumped into our rental Jeep, and headed to Starbucks for caffeine. We drove toward Wailua and landed at Lydgate Beach Park just a few moments after the official rise of the sun.

The boys, we discovered, are not mountain boys at all. They love the beach. As the adults snapped photos, the boys ran along the empty beach, kings of their own little universe. Their joy at building small sand structures and watching the ocean “demolish” them repeatedly was a beautiful reminder of how important the little moments are. Serenity is a beach sunrise. (Or a mountain sunrise at Maroon Bells in Aspen, Colorado. I’m not picky.)

After the caffeine had kicked in, we headed up to Opaeka’a Falls Lookout. We enjoyed the falls but mostly we were happy to catch a quick view of the Wailua River where we are going to kayak on Monday morning. Back to the car, we headed to our home base to gather up some things for the rest of our day. We stopped off at Hilo Hatties for some kitschy Hawaiian wear (it had to be done…hubby insisted) and a bobblehead for the dashboard in our Jeep.

Kekoa...our bobblehead surfdog — Kekoa…our bobblehead surfdog

As the rain poured down in Lihue, we headed to the reportedly “sunny” south shore for some swimming and snorkeling at Poi’pu Beach.

The instant we’d unrolled our beach mats, the sky opened up for a couple minutes. We thought about packing it in, but decided it would pass over. It did quickly, leaving behind sunny skies and warmer temperatures. We hauled out the snorkel gear we’d purchased one day on the Internet while sitting in snowy Steamboat Springs and hit the water. I was grateful that it was warmer than I thought it might be. I didn’t even need the dive vest I brought. While snorkeling, I saw oodles of fish, including a spotted eel, colorful parrot fish, and a very cool Moorish idol. No sea turtles sightings yet, but it’s always good to have something to look forward to for another day.

Five hours and five mild sunburns later, we departed the beach in search of sustenance. We found Puka Dogs. The Ultimate Kauai Guidebook gave this place high marks for their hot dogs, so I felt compelled to give it a try. If you have to eat a hotdog, this place does not suck. The polish dog is roasted until its skin is crispy and then it is tucked into a wraparound bun with spicy garlic jalapeno aioli and sweet relish (our choice was mango). Loved it. Totally worth the $6.25 price tag in my humble, hot-dog loving opinion.

As we were preparing to leave the area, we decided to shoot around and hit Spouting Horn and see what that was all about. Glad we did too because we were able to scout out the location of Allerton Garden, which is on our list for another day, and we caught our first sight of humpback whales off the coast. Steve and I have seen humpbacks while on a cruise along the Inside Passage in Alaska, but the boys were so excited. We’ve got our fingers crossed that they will hang around for a few more days as our sunset whale-watching cruise isn’t until Monday night.

A view of Allerton Gardens…destination for another day

All in all, it was a good day. I hope you’ll indulge me as I use my blog as a travel log for this week, although I won’t blame you if you don’t. While I certainly don’t mean to torture anyone who is still enduring winter that is spilling over into spring, I want to catalog my time here in paradise because too soon I will be back in Colorado watching spring snow fall. I need to have something to look back on as I tuck my flip-flops into the back of my closet and pull out the boots again.

Posted on 22/03/201323/03/2013 by Me 3

Find Your Bliss Any Way You Can

Guess which set belongs to the lone female in this family. — At least I will be easy to spot.

“If you want to reach a state of bliss, then go beyond your ego and the internal dialogue. Make a decision to relinquish the need to control, the need to be approved, and the need to judge.” – Deepak Chopra

Yesterday, in the peaceful falling snow of an early evening in January, the UPS delivery truck stopped in front of our house. As it pulled away, it left behind a box filled with things not meant for the snow at all. The large box contained snorkel gear for our entire family. I laugh at the absurdity of our family purchasing snorkel gear when we live in the middle of an already landlocked state, 1o00 miles away from the nearest beach which is a nearly 17-hour drive away in Malibu, California. We selected the gear while we were in snowy Steamboat Springs a week and a half ago. In spite of the wintery landscape there, we were absorbed with the notion that in two months we will be in Hawaii. So, in between cross-country skiing and trekking through a castle made entirely of ice, in front of a glowing fireplace we perused travel books and made mental notes of beaches we wanted to stand on. And, we ordered snorkel gear.

This morning, after an icy drive to deliver the boys at school, I took the next step in preparing for our upcoming spring break trip. I stopped to try on swimsuits. Buoyed by weeks of relentless work in yoga class, I felt fairly confident about my chances swimsuit shopping. I have a little less than two months left to finish whipping myself into vacation shape, and a swimsuit is exactly the motivation I need to keep my eye on the prize. I know it will be a bit odd to have it secured into place on the door of our stainless steel refrigerator in the middle of winter, but you do what you have to. For me, it’s yoga, fruit, and the fear of the suit.

And, as I stood in the fitting room today staring at my half-naked figure in the mirror, for the first time I faced the truth. My body is what it is, and what it is is a vessel that carried two children. It is strong and healthy. With nearly 45 years behind it and with a steady exercise routine, it endures more and is more flexible and balanced than it has ever been. It does things now that it couldn’t do a decade or two ago, like push ups. My body is powerful and capable. What it is not, however, is 20 years old. No matter how hard I work or how well I eat, I will never look the way I used to. Evolving over time, enduring childbirth and abdominal surgeries, my body has morphed to become something entirely different. It’s not bad. It’s simply not the same.

On the way home, I battled the negative self-talk that was bullying me into believing that I’m too old for the bikini I had just purchased. I told myself that as old as I am, I will never be this young again. And, if I am going to Hawaii for the first time and want to swim and snorkel in a two-piece suit, well…the rest of the world can suck it. I want to find bliss, and I will never find it if I’m judging myself or worrying about what others judge in me. I have only so much control over how the aging process will affect my body. Despite my best efforts, things will pucker and wrinkle and head in a southern direction. It’s inevitable. But, if cleaning grains of sand out of my navel makes me feel alive and happy, then that is what I must do. With each passing year I’m closer to peace and self-acceptance than I have yet been in my life. Maybe it’s blissfully naive of me to assume it’s not positively gauche for a woman of my mature age to appear in public in a bikini. At this point, though, I’ll take my bliss any way I can get it.

Posted on 29/01/2013 by Me

The Three Meanest Words In The English Language

For a few years now, there’s been a television show on NBC called Parenthood. I rarely watch network television, mostly because our evenings are filled with homework and getting the boys ready for school the next day and family time. What little time is left at the end of the night is primarily devoted to my trying to scheme up an idea to write about in this blog. My sisters have been talking to me about the show for years and telling me I should watch it. Frankly, though, it looked a wee bit too sappy for me so I have taken a pass on it without a second thought. A couple weeks ago when I finally told my mom we were having Luke evaluated for possible learning disabilities, she suggested Parenthood to me too. I started wondering if there was some sort of reward from NBC for people who bring new viewers to the show. But, Mom told me that the show might validate some of what I go through with my boys because a couple on the show has a child with differences. She thought I might be able to relate to it. So, I caved and started watching it via Netflix.

Well, it turns out that my mom and sisters were right. It’s a really good show. And, yes, watching Kristina and Adam negotiate the waters of Asperger’s Syndrome with their son Max does seem a wee bit familiar. It’s nice to be able to identify with a parenting experience similar to mine rather than watching a parenting experience I wish I had. The episode I watched today, though, hit a little too close to home. The teenage daughter buys a sexy black lace bra from Victoria’s Secret. The parents are not too happy about it because they realize what it means about the escapades of their fifteen year old daughter and the boy she has been seeing. As the mother leaves the daughter behind to go on a business trip, she whispers the three meanest words in the English language to her. She says, “I trust you.”

Oh, how I hate that phrase. That phrase is a lie. If you trust someone, you don’t tell them that you trust them. You simply do. If you tell someone you trust them, what you’re really saying is something like “I want to trust you so if you go behind my back you won’t be able to withstand the crippling guilt of having disappointed me after I put my faith in you in this very obvious way.” The implication is that whatever it is you were thinking you were going to do in some way goes against some underlying compact and will destroy the very fabric of our relationship. Those three words completely remove the fun from whatever it is you wanted to do. I hate that.

My husband has said these words to me on more than one occasion. Oddly enough it’s always been under the same circumstance. I’ve wanted something expensive and threatened to buy it against his wishes and better judgment. Then, he utters those three words and renders me powerless.

“I think I’m going to go ahead and book us that trip to Costa Rica,” I say. “The one I told you about.”

“I told you we really can’t afford to do that right now,” he replies.

“I know. But, we’ve only got one life, and it’s such a fabulous deal on a trip I really want to take. We can find a way to make it work,” I plead.

At this point, he’s running through for me the long, boring, laundry list of items we honestly *need* to spend our money on, stuff like carpet cleaning, a new water heater, and a stack of bills. Meanwhile, I’m rolling my eyes at him and singing “lalalalalala” with my fingers in my ears (in my head, anyway).

“You can’t stop me, you know. If I buy the trip, you’ll go and have a great time,” I say.

“But, you won’t buy the trip,” he replies. “You know how I feel about it. And, I trust you.” And, with that, the trip slips through my fingers. We won’t be going to Costa Rica, at least not this time.

I began watching Parenthood because I was looking to make a connection that would make me feel better about my life. As it turns out, though, the similarities between that show and my real life have become a bit too surreal for me. It’s as if the writers and Ron Howard have been stalking my life for material. And, let’s face it, there really is no escape from reality in television if the television you’re watching is mirroring your life. Perhaps it’s time to switch to The Walking Dead. I bet there’s nothing in that show that will reek of the too familiar. At least, not until the predicted Zombie Apocalypse occurs.

Posted on 09/11/2012 by Me 2

You’ve Got To Leave If You Want To Be Missed

Last week was a whirlwind for me. Flew to Boston on Friday. Spent Saturday, Sunday, and Monday in New England hitting five states in three days as was my goal. Arrived home late on Monday night. Put in my usual mom day on Tuesday beginning at 6:30 a.m. Whipped my way through laundry, grocery shopping, and packing so I could get up at 5 a.m. on Wednesday to head to the airport with my own mom to head to Vegas to celebrate her birthday there. Was in Vegas from 9 a.m. Wednesday until 8 p.m. yesterday. During our time in Vegas, my 70 year old mom and I did a ton of walking. I wish I’d been wearing a pedometer to measure it. (I mean, when do you go to Vegas and eat out for every meal and come home to discover you’ve actually lost weight on your vacation?) Today, a full week after my travel commenced, I collapsed. I love travel more than most things, but it was such a gift to be home today that I did nothing. Literally. No-thing. Not one thing. From 6:45 a.m. when I heard my boys wake up and head into the computer room to play Minecraft until 3 p.m., I sat in my bed. It was a stick-a-fork-in-me kind of day. I was done. Done physically. Done mentally. Done emotionally. I needed a day to recover from my vacations. Go figure.

Tonight, we went to spaghetti dinner at my dad’s church. Riding over in the car, it occurred to me that I hadn’t spent much time at all with my boys in over 7 days. While I was gone, I was too busy to miss them. Every moment of my travel had been filled with things to do. When they woke me up at 6:45 a.m., I wasn’t annoyed. I popped into their computer room and sat on the floor hugging them for a few minutes. Even though we were all home today, they spent most of their day playing outside with friends while I convalesced in my room. So tonight at dinner they had to keep telling me to stop hugging on them, staring at them, and telling them how handsome they are. I was embarrassing them with all the attention. I couldn’t help it, though. It wasn’t until tonight that I noticed how much I had missed them without even realizing it.

This evening I was reminded of why we need time away from our children. We need to step back a while so when we return we can savor them. How often do we get caught up in the day-to-day routine and fail to appreciate our kids for their creativity, their fourth-grade humor, and their dirty faces? The things about them that really get on my nerves when I’m faced with it day to day, like the way Joe likes to wipe his greasy, buttered hands on his nice shirts or the way Luke goes straight to whining mode when we mention it’s time to read, made me smile tonight. I had more patience for their antics. When we were finished with dinner, we drove them to a nearby playground and sat and watched them play for 15 minutes. Watched them play. I never take the time to do that, to simply be still and enjoy witnessing their childhoods. Today was a good reminder of why we leave our kids. If you can get beyond their sad faces when you’re leaving, beyond the forty text messages you receive from them daily when you’re gone, and the immediate question “what did you bring me” when you walk back in the door, you will discover that you actually missed the little buggers. You might just find out that they missed you too. But, you’ll have to leave first.

Posted on 13/10/2012 by Me

Five States In Three Days – The Final Chapter

On our last day in New England, we toyed with the idea of spending the day in Boston proper. But, after consulting with many locals about traffic, parking, mass transit, and things to do, we were too overwhelmed with information to choose what we wanted to do and see. So, I made an executive decision that the best course of action would be to do something truly appropriate for New England in the fall. We would spend the day in Salem. Why not? It’s October. What better time to visit the city of the witch trials?

We had no real plans in mind for our four hours in Salem, so we just began walking around. The entire city was decked out for Halloween. In addition to the usual tour guides in their period-appropriate costumes, we found plenty of costumed ghouls, zombies, and assorted freaks wandering the streets. (We remarked that our boys would probably never trick-or-treat if they lived here; they would be too scared to go out.) Being from the land of level, concrete sidewalks and young trees, we appreciated the brick and cobblestone walkways covered in fallen leaves. I noted very quickly, though, that walking and texting under these conditions is ill advised.

The only thing we planned to visit was the Salem Witch Museum, so we went early to purchase our advance tickets. From there, we walked down to the wharf. Salem was the sixth city in the United States and was an important port from the time of the Revolutionary War and the War of 1812. We saw the Customs House and then made our way by the John Ward house, which was built in 1684. In Denver, if you have a home from the early 20th century, you have a truly old home. We couldn’t even imagine that some people in Salem live in homes that are nearly 300 years old.

Statue of Roger Conant in front of the Salem Witch Museum

Eventually we made it back to the Salem Witch Museum in time for our tour. The tour, which is actually more of a presentation than a tour, was hokey but it gives an accurate description of what was happening at the time of the witch trials. The description of the climate of fear and faith in the late 17th century in New England reminded me a bit too much of the current time. The abridged version of the Salem witch trial story is that some young girls, bored with being young girls in the restrained times, put on a little act. By the time they were finished with their inexplicable antics, nineteen innocent people had been hanged in the gallows and a final guiltless soul was pressed to death under the weight of heavy boulders. Lovely people, those Puritans.

We finished our time in historic Salem with a pizza lunch at the Flying Saucer Pizza Company. We chose the Starbuck as our pizza as our lunch….canadian bacon, pineapple, and jalapenos. Yum! (Perhaps we chose that pie simply because we’d missed our Starbucks breakfast?) Lunch was great and we made it back to our car just as the four hours on our parking meter expired. Now we’re sitting in Logan International Airport, ready to fly home to our boys. Can’t wait to see them. It’s been a whirlwind three day tour. Next time, we bring our kids and take in Boston and its history in full.

Posted on 08/10/2012 by Me 1

Five States In Three Days – Chapter Two

Our car trips (and, sadly, our entire lives) are fueled by Starbucks. Knowing we needed a latte for our two hour drive to Mystic, we decided this morning to tempt map fate by driving to Connecticut directed solely by the map on our Starbucks app. So, we picked a store near Walpole, Massachusetts, as our first stop and then continued following the map of Starbucks stores ever further south, inching our way toward Mystic. Chasing Starbucks stores…that’s how you live life on the edge.

While we drove the entire length of Rhode Island, we were on a mission to meet our friends and didn’t stop to visit the state properly. Still, we spent two full hours on its interstates, so we’re calling it an official visit…with the caveat that we will return and visit Providence and Newport one day.

We arrived in Mystic and met Edie and Tom at, you guessed it, Starbucks. From there we headed to the lighthouse museum in nearby Stonington. We don’t have many lighthouses in Colorado, so the maritime information was quite interesting. The museum is housed in what once was a functioning lighthouse. We climbed the stairs (and a small ladder) to the lighthouse tower to take in the scenery. I got to use the panorama feature on my iPhone 5 to capture 180 degrees of the view. The museum also had whale bones. Colorado doesn’t have many whale bones either.

Preparing the apple mixture for the press

Our next stop was the B. F. Clyde’s Cider Mill in Mystic. We made it there just in time for the 3 p.m. cider pressing demonstration. The mill contains the last steam-powered cider press in the United States. We watched as they spread the chopped apple mixture onto the pressing plate and then ran the plates through the machine. Once the cider had been collected, they moved the remaining apple pulp out to a collection bin behind the mill. The mill, aside from producing incredibly tasty cider, also makes apple wine and hard apple cider. We purchased some apple cider donuts, which we devoured, and some 28-proof hard apple/cranberry cider for later.

It was raining when we left, so we headed into the shopping and restaurant part of Mystic along the Mystic River for some dinner. Edie had picked a cute little restaurant called The Ancient Mariner. Steve had lobster macaroni and cheese and we both tried “stuffies,” which are stuffed clams. We’d never eaten clams before (don’t have many good clam restaurants in Colorado), so we had to give it a shot. Afterward, we took a short drive to get a scenic view of Mystic. The town, which is as darling as you would expect, was even more charming today in the rain.

It was another great day of travel. Tomorrow we spend some time in Massachusetts. Planning to visit Salem before heading back to Denver, exhausted, well-traveled, well-fed, well-educated, and ready to see our boys!

Posted on 07/10/201207/10/2012 by Me 3

Five States in Three Days – Chapter One

When we found out we would be attending our friend Jeff’s wedding to Megan in Massachusetts, my brain went into furious planning mode. Neither Steve nor I had ever been to been to New England. We had a lot to see. I planned a full on assault. I wanted to attack the northeast the way greedy Americans tour Europe, voraciously soaking up a micro dose of culture before moving on to the next target. Here, then, begins my travel journal…five states in three days.

We left our hotel in Peabody, Massachusetts and headed north on I-95 bound for New Hampshire. First stop was Starbucks for our morning caffeine. We blew through the state in 46 minutes and landed in Maine in search of the Nubble Lighthouse in York. As soon as we arrived in York, a quaint seaside vacation spot, we stopped for a brief walk on the beach, where we watched a tiny Yorkshire Terrier fetch what might as well have been a moon-sized tennis ball. I took off my shoes, let the Atlantic wash over my feet, and took a self-portrait to mark the event.

Next stop was the Nubble Lighthouse. The lighthouse sits on an island just offshore. It was a perfect 65 degrees and sunny. A wedding party arrived for someone else’s big day. I took a photo of Steve taking a photo. I have a lot of those.

We jumped back in the car and headed down towards New Hampshire, bound for Portsmouth. I had a goal of visiting at least one historic place during our east coast trip. Colorado is a young state, comparatively, so we are short on awesome historical sights. I found one that was a must-see in Portsmouth. Strawberry Banke is a historical museum comprised of an entire neighborhood of clapboard homes dating from the late 17th century. Many of the homes have been completely restored and furnished with period furnishings. There are period costumes, toys, and stories to offer a complete experience of what this area was like for the centuries proceeding this one.

Our final stop was in downtown Portsmouth. Steve, on a friend’s recommendation, was set on a lobster roll for lunch. Walking on the brick sidewalks through Portsmouth’s quaint shopping district, we happened upon The Dolphin Striker, which just happened to serve lobster (lobstah) rolls. While Steve devoured what had to be a pound of lobster, I dined on a delicately balanced dish of butternut squash ravioli with fresh spinach, dried cherries, and apple slices in a light cream sauce. The window view was of the river and sailboats floating by.

After our perfect lunch, we hopped back in the car headed to Peabody…two states under our belt. We stopped at Dunkin’ Donuts for Steve’s requisite afternoon coffee. (Note: I think this state needs a few more photos of New England Patriot tight end Rob Gronkowski. Get working on that.) We’ve got a beautiful wedding to attend in Beverly tonight. Tomorrow, we’re hitting Rhode Island and Connecticut…still on our mission.

Posted on 06/10/2012 by Me

What’s The Exact Opposite Of Cats In The Cradle?

I love travel. Although I love my home, if I can fly somewhere every 3 months I am over the moon. Most of the time, we take our boys with us when wanderlust strikes. Tomorrow, though, hubby and I are skipping town for a few days. Literally. A few days. A couple hours before bed tonight, our oldest comes into our room crying because he doesn’t want us to leave. His face is wet. His eyes are red. He’s been suffering in his room quietly until he could stand it no longer. This breaks my heart. It also tells me something. Hubby and I do not leave our sons often enough.

I know that he’s eleven and that in just a few short years he’ll be smiling as he slams the door behind us when we leave, so I should treasure his hysterical tears now. But, I can’t. They make me feel like we’re not doing enough to prepare him. I love my sons, but I do not want them living in my basement and delivering pizzas for a living. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I just don’t want them doing it from my basement. They’re more than welcome to pursue that life path for themselves from a crummy, garden level apartment that they finance themselves. No judgments from me. Make no mistake about it, though, as much as I love my sons to infinity and beyond, I want them to leave me someday the way they are meant to. I want them to grow up and have their own adventures. They can miss me, but they’ll have to leave me to make that happen.

We gave Joe tons of hugs and told him that we trust him. We told him that we’ll miss him oodles and will FaceTime with him every day. We told him that he’s brave and strong and that he’s got this. We told him that parents need time together alone as a couple so they can stay married. We told him that his little brother would protect and care for him. I don’t think it made much of a difference, but he did finally fall asleep. I know that someday he will walk out our front door, his car all packed for college, and when he drives away I will cry just like he did tonight. I’m sure it will be my ugliest cry ever. But, there’s a part of me that will be so glad to take that burden of sadness away from him. I can handle it. I think.

Posted on 04/10/2012 by Me 3

The Journey Is The Reward

This morning, my crazy husband and I awoke to our alarm clock at 4:30 a.m. We got dressed (long underwear underneath our clothes), made lattes, woke our sleeping children and dressed them in warm gear, and were on the road at 5:40 to head to the mountains. Our plan: to summit Grays Peak, elevation 14, 270 feet, with our friends. Using a book called Colorado’s Fourteeners as our guide, we decided that our route should be up the eastern slope of Grays. According to the book, this was a shorter climb that was just a bit more difficult than the more heavily traveled climb up Grays’ western slope. With three kids between the ages of 9-11 in tow, we thought the shorter route might be advisable.

At 8 a.m. and only 38 degrees we left our cars and, laden with filled personal hydration packs, we began the trek to the trailhead. The book said the trailhead was .3 miles from the parking lot. It was not. It was over a mile up a 4-wheel drive road before we began seeing markers for the ascent. This was definitely going to put a damper on the “lower mileage” we were hoping for. The kids were slow to get started because of the cold. As the heart-pumping climbing began to warm us, we shed of layers of gloves, knit hats, wind gear, and fleece jackets so we could continue. We reapplied sunscreen and tried to fill up on snacks. We were stopping as much as we were moving, which was not a good sign. Still, we trudged along, taking several false trails before finally deciding on a direction to head.

By the time we had reached 13,251 feet on our climb (we’d started at 11,095 feet), we had been traveling nearly four hours. With all the stopping and starting, we had exhausted most of our water supply. Luke was complaining of a headache (dehydration related, I’m sure), Joe was starting to freak out because there was no clear cut path to the summit, and we weren’t sure what to do. We estimated that it would take us about 2 additional hours to reach the summit because there was no clearly marked trail. We’re smart parents, though, and knowing we were low on water and patience we decided the best course of action would be to pack it in, so we began our descent without ever reaching our intended goal.

Three years ago, when he was just 8, Joe climbed his first 14er (there are 53 mountain peaks in Colorado with elevations in excess of 14,000 feet, affectionately called 14ers). Two years ago, when Luke was just 7, we attempted to summit Mt. Sherman, but high winds and children with fear of heights kept us from that goal. We had hoped today would mark Luke’s first ascent over 14,000 feet, but it was not to be. I wanted to be upset because we did not accomplish our goal, but I wasn’t. We’d climbed 2,393 feet (all at high elevation) and walked nearly 7 miles, sometimes on slopes so steep that we were leaning into the hill to climb. The kids scrambled rocks and scree and were sure-footed as little goats. They made me proud.

As we were walking down, I could tell our friend’s daughter was a bit disappointed that she wasn’t going to be able to finish the climb because our boys had wanted to call it quits and we had agreed. Then I heard her repeat something to her dad. He asked her about the priorities for the day.

“Number One: Be Safe. Number Two: Have Fun. Number Three: Reach The Top,” she recited.

That got me to thinking about how often in life we feel that if we don’t reach the goal, the effort was wasted. But, that’s not really the case, is it? Was it a waste of a day because we didn’t summit Grays Peak? I don’t think so. I mean, we were on a mountain with three kids climbing at high altitude for a long distance. None of us got hurt. We all returned to the cars without a scratch. Item Number One: Check. Although the climbing was difficult and we all took turns being slow and stopping, we had fun. We laughed, commented on the gorgeous scenery, and appreciated the Rocky Mountain High views. We had great conversations with people we truly love. Item Number Two: Check. We didn’t reach the top, but that was the last priority.

After a long day, we went to Beau Jo’s for some Colorado-style pizza and beers (microbrews for the adults, root beers for the kids) to celebrate. We returned home 12 hours after we’d departed, exhausted and a bit sunburned, but feeling good about our effort. We will make some changes next time we attempt this climb (and we will attempt it again). Still, today really did prove the Chinese proverb, “The journey is the reward.” We may not have reached the goal, but the time we spent with our children and our friends, the beauty of the Colorado back country on a cloudless day with deep blue skies, the joy of seeing mountain goats in the distance walking around on Grays Peak, and the serenity of the nearly vacant east side of that awesome 14,270 foot peak made the journey worthwhile. It really comes down to perspective. You can beat yourself up over not reaching your intended target, or you can stop to enjoy what you discovered along the way. The choice is yours.

Posted on 09/09/2012 by Me 2

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