Summer Solsticing (and traumatizing) at Granby Ranch

June 30, 2008 By

A week ago, we attended Granby Ranch’s summer solstice. The resort went all out for this celebration that included fireworks, BBQs, chairlift rides, face painting, golf, crafts, a climbing wall, trampoline, massages, pony rides and mountain bike demos. To name a few.

We reallllly wanted to go on this trip because:

1) It sounded fun. Duh.
2) The following weekend would be our dreaded camping trip with the children and we wanted them to have at least one positive experience with the great outdoors. Even if it meant enjoying it from the great indoors of our slope-side condo.

If you’ve never been to Granby Ranch, you must not be a hip, nature-loving family with young children in Colorado because that is 90 percent of their audience. The other 9 percent consists of suicidal mountain bikers who barrel down the resort’s new mountain bike park. The remaining 1 percent? Toileting-papering, hike-traumatizing city folk like us.

One of our best–and worst–experiences was shortly after we arrived. Much to the delight of the children, we rode the chairlift to the summit. The plan was to then hike through the resort’s wildflower-laced meadows and sing “Climb [Down] Every Mountain in a scene reminiscent of the Von Trapp Family Singers.

Yeah, right.

Our children have been on the trail since they were six weeks old so they are well acquainted with the rigors of the backcountry. Just not the hazards of their father.

We were about halfway down when my husband Jamie proclaimed this place was where he nearly killed his father 20 years ago when he convinced him to forsake the bunny slope.

Hadley chose this Valley of Death to announce that she needed a break. Before I could object, Jamie spotted a grove of trees and proceeded to climb over an obstacle course of deadfall before plopping down on a log. Bravely, Hadley followed her daddy and within moments, she let out a death-defying screech. She had sliced up her hand on one of the logs.

Really, the damage of a few slivers was minor. But if you are four years old and there is no princess band-aid in sight, you think your life is O-V-E-R. I will spare you the sordid details of the rest of the hike but let’s just say it was replete with a few of her [Not-So] Favorite Things.

After a full day’s activities, we settled back on the deck listening to live music and enjoying a gourmet BBQ. As the evening progressed, the hilarious Jackman Brothers performed. At Bode’s insistence, I left to replenish his plate with even more food. Because evidently five ribs and countless chicken nuggets were not enough for our 1-year-old garbage disposal.

Upon our return, we made a very disturbing discovery:

Some would consider this to be my husband subjected to the humiliation of getting called up in front of hundreds of people for a corny toilet paper race.

Others—like my father-in-law and daughter—would call it Payback at Granby Ranch.

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
Filed Under: Colorado, Family travel, Jamie, outdoors, travel

Farewell to a Teacher, Friend and First Love

June 26, 2008 By

Do you have a favorite teacher? I did. And he passed away last Friday.

Mr. Monro was my friend, mentor and all-around cool guy. He played hard with us, laughed with us and was the reason Grade 6 was my favorite year of school. Ever.

He was not only my favorite teacher but also my first school-girl crush true love. Now, lest you judge me, this was long before ped*philia was on the rampage. And so pure was my obsession for Mr. Monro that I dreamed of cruising around in his yellow corvette and drinking Slurpees by sunset on the playground with him.

We even had a song–”Hello,” by Lionel Ritchie. It was all so perfect.

Well, except that that my affections were not reciprocated.

Under his tutelage I excelled that year like never before, winning the all-around athletic and academic award for my elementary school.

Mr. Monro coined the nickname that my childhood friends still call me today: The Animal (see the similarities?) If recollection serves me well, my christening occurred after I accidentally busted his nose by kicking the soccer ball in his face.

Sometimes love hurts.

When Walkmans first came on the market, he even let us have reading time while listening to them. I remember leaning over to Jamie Cranston and asked him about his radio station.

“I AM LISTENING TO XL-RADIO!” he shouted.

The guy hadn’t yet figured out that he did not have to speak over the volume. I think he became an attorney with all that brain power (for reals).

Speaking of good ol’ Jamie, in junior high he decided to go by James because it sounded more grownup. And this is the reason why I taunted him by calling him Jamie every chance I got.

WaitAMinute.

Someone else named Jamie?

Submitting him to a lifetime of torment?

Anyone else seeing the coincidences here?…..

I would love to hear about your favorite teacher. What made him/her so special? And most importantly: did you end up marrying a man who has the same name as someone you once traumatized?

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
Filed Under: Uncategorized

Jamie’s Failed Attempts to Tame this Shrew

June 24, 2008 By

I am on Week 2 of my battle with the plague. I started to feel better so stopped taking my antibiotics.

Because evidently I thought having a relapse and revisiting my nightmare was better than taking a tiny pill two times a day.

I still feel terribly guilty that I missed the backpacking trip, especially due to all the hard work I put into it. Leading up to the trek was a whirlwind of meetings, packing, a practice hike, shopping, food prep and more meetings. Our fellow adult leaders–Joe and Jeanette–are pillars of the community and were saviors for my sanity as we finalized the last-minute details. As the parents of 10 amazing children, they know organization…and kids.

They just evidently don’t know what causes them. :-)

Jamie was absolutely swamped at work so I did most of the preparations. We had planned to drive up to Frisco for a popular BBQ competition the weekend prior to the trek but determined we just wouldn’t have time to do it.

Or so I thought until Jamie approached me.

“Amber, I was thinking about heading up to Frisco for the competition.”

“Errrr, Jamie? We are doing a practice run for setting up the tents, distributing the food and helping them pack their backpacks on Saturday.”

“So?”

“SO, DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!”

“What? Why not?”

“We have so much to do! And have you noticed that Joe has been Jeanette’s right-hand man throughout this entire process and has continuously stepped in to help her while you have done NOTHING?”

“There, there, Amber. That’s because Jeanette is only half the woman you are.”

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
Filed Under: Uncategorized

Family Affection (or an extreme lack thereof)

June 23, 2008 By

I love to cuddle up with my little family but when it comes to expressing physical affection, my children could not be more different. My spitfire Hadley has little interest in warm fuzzies; she is too busy conquering the world to waste her time with nonessentials such as touching her fellow humans.

The only exception is when she is puking her guts out and clings to me like a koala. Call me crazy but snuggles should not include projectiles of any kind.

Especially when that projectile is vomit.

I used to have a difficult time accepting her lack of endearment towards me until I recognized that she just expresses herself in different ways. I.e. saying “I love you” repeatedly throughout the day or generously eating all the cookies in front of me because she knows they are not on my diet.

My son Bode was exactly what this snuggle-deprived mama ordered and at 23 months old, he still freely kisses and hugs me. After a few days with Grandma when I was sick last week, we raced towards each other like a scene out of Chariots of Fire (juxtaposed against his 4-going-on-14-year-old sister who warily looked at me as if to say, “Oh yeah. YOU.”)

My solution for the vast divide between the two of them is to force “Family Snuggles.” This has become a nightly ritual as we all pile on Grandma’s Mama’s Featherbed and pin them down as they giggle their objections.

I still remember the first breakthrough I had with Hadley’s lack of physical affection. When she was 2 years old, we were bouncing around on my bed before bedtime when she stopped, plopped herself down on my pillow, put her arm out and announced, “SNUGGLE!”

Shocked, I asked, “Did you say snuggle?” She nodded and repeated herself again. I didn’t hesitate a moment longer and dove right in like an attention-starved puppy. With tail wagging.

Now, lest you think I converted her to Family Snuggles, think again. She laid there for her obligatory 10-second snuggle as if she was counting down the moments. She then plopped back up and announced we were “Alllllll twue” (in Haddie speak: I gave you what you want so can you pul-ease stop attacking me, Woman?)….

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
Filed Under: Hadley, Humor

Forget Salmonella–Beware of The Big, Ugly Cry Outbreak

June 20, 2008 By

Our regularly-scheduled Front Range Adventure Boot Camp weigh-ins will continue at a later date due to my current condition. This week, my husband Jamie and I were supposed to lead a large group of teenage girls on their first ever multi-day backpacking trip along the rigorous Colorado Trail.

Note: I said supposed to.

I have instead spent this week on my deathbed due to the plague that struck the night before our trip. This isn’t your friendly, everyday sniffling and hacking plague. No, this illness consists of excruciating stomach pain, vertigo, nausea, fevers and head aches. And I won’t even mention all those dedicatory prayers I made at the throne of the porcelain gods nor how I went 48 hours without sleeping.

Test results have not confirmed my condition but salmonella poisoning or an infection seem most certain.

Or a violently adverse reaction to the prospect of spending four days in the backcountry with a bunch of teenagers.

I held off going to the doctor for as long as possible because of my humiliating breakdown during my last visit in September. My daughter Hadley had been sent home early from preschool with pink eye. I was suffering from really bad allergies and figured I would kill two birds with one stone and made an appointment with my general practitioner. Now, let me preface this by disclosing I was in my second month of these mind-numbing allergies. I hadn’t slept in weeks and I was on my third sinus infection.

I arrived early to fill out Haddie’s paperwork and was told upfront by the snippy front desk that they had only booked one of us for an appointment. And the doctor would only see both of us if he had time.

Enter: Nurse Betty. When she came to take Haddie’s vitals, she rudely informed me he would only see Haddie, even though the error was on their part for screwing up the booking. The prospect of living with this misery even one more day was almost more than I could handle. An argument ensued. There was blood. And not the kind triggered by a needle.

When the doctor arrived, I was a snotty, bloody mess. Before he could even open his mouth, I blabbered on about the whole confrontation. If that was not bad enough, next came the very lowest of lows: The Big, Ugly Cry. In front of a man.

Of course, I was horrified but the more I thought of it, the more I spewed big, ugly tears. The same tears that baby Haddie cried when she first watched that demonic purple dinosaur and he started singing, “I love you, you love me” –marking the end of his evil reign.

The doctor consoled me, all the while undoubtedly wondering just how soon I could be admitted into the psych ward. Before long, the office manager came in. You know: that person who only appears to deal with those patients. And then the perkiest, funniest Physician’s Assistant imaginable. It was evident they were bending over backwards to appease me. And so I did what any humiliated, snot-infested woman would do:

I took advantage of them.

Well, more like their medications. In addition to walking outta there with a referral for an allergist, I also casually mentioned a cough that I may-or-may not have had at that juncture but that I knew I would have at the conclusion of my latest sinus infection. My husband Jamie claims I am a cough-syrup addict but anyone who has ever had bronchitis or a serious cough knows that nothing except for the good stuff even comes close to knocking you out. That stuff only the doctor can prescribe.

Or a Physician’s Assistant trying to appease an irate, sleep-deprived, snot-infested woman.

I’ll take it. And you’d better believe I did.

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
Filed Under: Favorite Posts, Health, Humor

Postcards from the edge (of my deathbed)

June 18, 2008 By

I didn’t go on the backpacking trip I was supposed to lead for girl’s camp this week. You know, the one I have been planning for months.

The night prior to our departure, I was (and continue to be) struck by the plague. I don’t have the energy to get into it all right now but after two nights with no sleep, I spent this morning at the doctor. There were a lot of tests and talk of infections. Or poisoning. Or salmonella.

If you don’t hear from me for a while, blame the pumpkin. I don’t know why. It just seems appropriate. As my last request, I plead with you not to let Jamie put one on my tombstone.

Because he’s just kind of obsessed like that….

P.S. If you are going to have your mother-in-law take your children to their swim lessons while you are supposed to be away on a trip that never happens, make sure you do not fly off the handle at the pool personnel when they claim your children are not registered, only to later find out you enrolled them at a different pool.

P.P.S. Run-on sentences are only permitted in a drug-induced state.

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
Filed Under: Uncategorized

I would like to thank the Mom Blog Academy….

June 16, 2008 By

I have been so busy prepping for my backpacking trip this week that I did not even realize elections were going down. No, I’m not talking about good ol’ Barak or John, though if either of them wins I am moving back to Canada.

But don’t call me on that.

I am talking about the 2008 Bloggy Hoss Elections. Many of you were gracious enough to vote me as the winner of Most Athletic last year. Unbeknownst to me, I was recently nominated for Most Popular, which almost makes up for all those years of being an outcast in The Trauma We Call High School.

Anyway, I ran a poor campaign because the polls are now closed and I didn’t even know I was in the running. But I want to thank those disillusioned enlightened souls who submitted my name.

I am only remiss that I was not able to vote for some of my favorite mom blogs that include Temporary? Insanity, The Smiling Infidel, Mejojac’s Memos, My Ice Cream Diary, Mommy’s Martini, Scribbit and Loralee’s Looney Tunes (the latter two who will be my roommates at BlogHer next month). It would appear I am in very good company so thank you!

Another shocker is being named as one of startup powerhouse Sampa’s Top 10 Mommy Bloggers You Should Read. Even more shocking is being referred to as “refreshing.”

Well, at least they didn’t say I was “fresh.”

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXXOXO

Remember a few weeks ago when I was stressed about how to top Jamie’s over-the-top Mother’s Day gift?

Well, I topped it, my friends.

And the fruits of this gift will keep on giving for years to come.

Well, giving me a pain in the neck, that is.

So come on over to Mile High Mamas and find out about the gift to top all gifts and tell me all about your Father’s Day!

===============

My husband Jamie and I are generally not extravagant gift givers. Well, with the exception of the time he bought me a Honda Pilot for my birthday (though I think it should not have counted because we were already in the market for a car). Have you ever topped a gift like that? Yeah, me neither.

This year, I was at a loss regarding what to buy Jamie for Father’s Day. The man pulled all the stops for Mother’s Day: he took me to Jill’s restaurant in Boulder and surprised me at dinner by slipping me a room key for the gorgeous St. Julien Hotel and Spa. Oh, and did I mention our little getaway was without kids?

Because isn’t that what Mother’s Day is all about: getting a break from those who made you a mother?

And so my quest began to give Jamie a comparable celebration. I queried my friends who gave me some great suggestions but nothing resonated with me. As I pondered his latest passions and interests, it came down to only one thing: pumpkins. The man is obsessed with growing big pumpkins (if you missed that big reveal, make sure to checkout Sordid Secrets and the Husbands Who Keep Them).

And then an idea came to mind–a big idea. But could we afford it? I casually mentioned to Jamie that I wanted to surprise him with a bit of an extravagance for Father’s Day and needed to know how much I could spend. Within moments–moments, people–he was crunching numbers at the computer. An hour later, he came forth with an extravagant number.

I’m just trying to figure out why that money didn’t surface for the spa weekend I wanted to take.

And his big surprise? I am taking my beloved husband to Boston to attend the Topsfield Fair in October. If you do not live in Pumpkin-Obsessed Mania, Topsfield is the Mecca of pumpkin geeks growers and just last year a new world record was set.

To say the man was excited is a bit of an understatement. The downside is I will have to feign excitement about big pumpkins and this will only worsen Jamie’s obsession.

The upside? We are staying at a B&B in Salem.

Without kids.

Sensing a pattern here? :-)

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
Filed Under: Uncategorized

Happy Father’s Day to Papa Canuck!

June 15, 2008 By

Due to the condition I have called UnableToSleepInItis, I have been taking full advantage of my Saturdays by going hiking or biking long before my family starts stirring.

Yesterday, I drove to a new trailhead to tackle a network of bike paths. Several miles into my ride, I turned back, only to encounter an intersecting trail that leads back near my house. Without hesitation, I took it. And the ride was all too perfect.

Well, except for the fact that my car was still at the original trailhead and I had to do a huuuuuge loop to retrieve it–a minor detail. I finally arrived back home a couple hours later exultant yet exhausted over my new discoveries.

Last summer was the first time I realized that maybe this is not normal. I was at BlogHer and decided to skip Day 2, rent a bike and explore the city by myself. One of my new friends Shannon admiringly said she would never do anything of the sort and her reaction baffled me.

As I rode yesterday, I was taken back to when I was about 13 years old. My Dad led me on my bike to a hillside about 10 minutes from our house in Calgary and there, shrouded by weeds and trees, was a secret break in the fence that lead to an endless network of bike paths.

I spent the next several years clocking thousands of miles on those trails that are touted as some of the most extensive in North America. Sometimes I was with Dad, mostly I was alone. And during those countless hours of pushing myself to my limit amidst sparkling rivers and gleaming hills, I found myself.

And my dad gave me the key.

So here is to a wonderful man who instilled a love of adventure and exploration that I am passing down to my own little family. To a man who, in his quiet and meek way, always supported me and gave me the self-confidence to believe I could accomplish anything I wanted in my life.

And to a man who always kept me grounded and yet gave me wings to soar.

Happy Father’s Day!

What is one of your favorite memories of your dad?

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
Filed Under: Uncategorized

Sign this online petition that “Father’s Day” should be renamed “Daddy Expects Action Day” (D.E.A.D)

June 14, 2008 By

“So, what do you want for breakfast in bed on Father’s Day?”

[Suggestively] “Which one of my two requests are you talking about?”

[Sighs] “The other one. Involving food.”

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
Filed Under: Uncategorized

Biggest Loser Boot Camp Week 10 Weigh-in: The Biggest Shocker Yet

June 13, 2008 By

Thanks to Front Range Adventure Boot Camp, I am physically stronger than I have been in years. But one of last week’s workouts nearly did me in.

It was not the day we ran Red Rocks amphitheatre. Though having a partner hold you back with resistance bands while trying to race crawl up the stairs sure was a lot of fun.

It was not when my husband Jamie and I took a two-hour hike up Eldorado Canyon’s Rattlesnake Gulch as I hauled our 30-pound toddler. (When asked by fellow hikers why I was carrying him instead of Jamie, I cheerfully submitted Bode helped me pack on the weight and he can help me take it off).

What nearly sent me to my deathbed was Monday’s Indian run at Boot Camp. Our instructor Robyn divided us into two groups: non-runners (smart people) and runners (masochists). I was assigned to the latter group. The concept of the Indian run is simple: a group of people jog in single file around a playing field and pass a baton backwards. When it reaches the last person, he/she sprints forward to the front of the line and so it continues.

Sound reasonable? Sure, unless your group decides to sprint the entire drill, causing you to finally say, “Ladies, if it is amenable to you, perhaps we should slow this down to a jog so the sprinter does not kill herself trying to take the lead.”

Well, it kind of came out like that. Just add some swearing and an avowal to get even when they least expect it.

Without further ado, my weekly weight loss is: 5 pounds, making my total 23 pounds.

No one is more shocked than I. Sure, my body nearly collapsed from overexertion this week but I overcompensated for it by consuming the equivalent of a child’s birthday cake at a neighborhood party that weekend. I dreaded getting on that scale and I am still scratching my head over my biggest week of weight loss.

Maybe the cake was made with Splenda?

Or it was more likely that I burned about 1,000,000 calories, which compensated for the 500,000 calories I consumed.

Whatever it was, I’ll take it.

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
Filed Under: Uncategorized
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