One of the things I love about living in Colorado is I am a rock star on ice. Well, at least according to the locals. Don’t get me wrong–I’m not an expert skater or anything. But a few years of lessons makes all the wobbling locals (including my Hunky but Weak-in-the-Ankles Hubby) watch in awe as I can race around the ice without falling. Even once. Unfortunately, pregnancy has downgraded my quadruple axle to only a double. Sacrifices.

Hadley had her first ice skating lesson today on a lake in a beautiful mountain hamlet. Well, more like her first ice sitting lesson. After bundling her to the point that she bore a strong resemblance to Randy in “A Christmas Story,” we plopped her in a sled and whipped her around the lake. You would think this would be thrilling for any toddler. Not the Hurricane. She preferred stripping down to her skibbies and hitting on boys in the lodge whilst sipping cocoa. Eerie foreshadowing of a future ski bunny in the making?

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

All right, all right. Enough of the bodily-function blogs. I had no idea how controversial floaters vs. sinkers would be (thanks, Mocha Momma) or that fat floats (thanks, Erik). Then again, I should have known the latter item because I once saw Hadley back in her chubby days act as a buoy in the water….

I don’t know if I’m kinda morbid but I have a great time reading the Police Beat. It started when I was a student at BYU because they were usually the lamest listings (for those not aware, BYU had a serious “Flashing” problem. And I’m not talking about lights). Several years later, I’m hooked again because the local paper really puts out some good descriptors. Here’s the Cliff Notes version of a great one from today’s edition, with my favorites quotes being italicized:

“A snowball hit a school bus window at 9:32 a.m. Dec. 13, according to police reports. The alleged snowball heaving took place near a middle school….The administrator gave an officer the boys’ statements and called in the alleged ice vandal….He was issued a summons for throwing missiles by the officer present and let go.”

Throwing missiles? Ice vandal? Whatever happened to good old fashioned snowball fights? My brothers would be doing serious time right now for all the “alleged ice heavings” I endured for many years.

Equally as impressive in today’s edition was how “Two high school students were found in a compromising position at 10:45 a.m. in the dugout of a school on Allendale….”

I asked myself what a “compromising position” would be. By definition, “compromising” means “A settlement of differences in which each side makes concessions; something that combines qualities or elements of different things.”

From these definitions, I can only assume that these two individuals were:
a) settling a dispute or argument while standing on one leg
b) lost and trying to find their whereabouts with a GPS (Global Positioning System)
c) arguing their baseball field position in the dugout
d) All of the above

Any thoughts?

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

It’s been a busy vacation week with Hubby & Haddie (just got back from a fantabulous hike and we’re going ice-skating in the mountains tomorrow), so I’ll be back to my regular blogging practices next week.

In the meantime, I have been rather alarmed at the controversy re: my mention of asparagus. Yes, we had asparagus. For Christmas dinner. Along with Honey-baked Ham, funeral potatoes, homemade rolls and more salads than I can count. Get over it. It makes your urine smell. Your comments were very errr…enlightening to say the least. But Mocha Momma’s comment won the big prize:

“This reminds me of something I read a long time ago and have found difficult fitting into everyday conversation. Thank God for you, Amber! Marilu Henner wrote a fitness/diet book several years ago and one of her chapters is all about poop. She says that what we eat is reflected in it (I’m sure she didn’t say it quite like that, yet it seems really gross now that I’ve written it) and we should check it to see if we are getting enough fiber. She called them ‘floaters’ and ‘sinkers’ and let me just tell you that anyone who read that probably checked the toilet after every poop to see which one they currently had. Not ME, mind you. But everyone else. Kelly p.s. floaters are the good ones, by the way. Plenty of fiber in floaters.”

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

Welp, I survived Christmas in Colorado. Hadley has been absolutely in her element with all the attention, food and gifts. We had a grand time following Santa’s route on NORAD’s Santa Tracker, though I feel a bit ripped off we never had such perks when I was a kid.
In addition, Christmas brought many new insights this year:

*Santa must get really hungry traveling all the way from the North Pole. At least that’s what Jamie said when I queried why my stocking had a half-eaten bag of Hershey’s Dulce De leche kisses.

*Jamie must love me way more than I love him. Or he may just have more time at his disposal.

*While all his Christmas presents to me were beautifully wrapped and had a thoughtful note i.e. “To my loving and beautiful wife. Thank you for a wonderful year. Your devoted Husband.” Juxtapose that against my presents to him that were thrown in a gift bag (WHAT would we do without them?) and my chicken-scrawled “To J, Heart A” (if that) as Hurricane Hadley tore up everything around her.

*Santa does exist. That is the only way I can possibly explain the beautiful new diaper bag that mysteriously showed up under the tree. Jamie professes foul play.

*One-year-olds don’t care what they get for Christmas. We spent hours setting up a fun play area for Haddie in the basement with a playhouse, basketball hoop, table, kitchen, play fort, countless toys and an Elmo rug. When we unveiled it to her, she ran in the other direction towards a ratty old ball.

*Consuming asparagus augments the smell of your urine. Or at least that’s what my food-connoisseur sister-in-law, Tammy, professed during our Christmas feast. I forfeited the experiment by puking up my meal afterwards so the results have yet to be confirmed. So do me a favor: make sure to take a big whiff in that toilet bowl the next time you eat asparagus; Tammy promises you won’t be disappointed.

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

Christmas is almost upon us! I wanted to steal a moment to write now because with the hubby off work and family in town, I won’t be around much next week.

I would be remiss after doing my Motherland’s Top 10 if I didn’t mention my best Christmas ever. It actually wasn’t even at Christmastime. Huh? As I’ve mentioned before, when I was at BYU I did a Study Abroad in the Holy Land, with Israel, Egypt and Jordan as my home. It was my privilege to study under some of the most renowned Jewish, Muslim and Christian leaders in all of Jerusalem.

One particular outing still resonates in my mind. We’d gone to Bethlehem and had toured the Church of the Nativity and other related sites. From there, it was onto Shepherd’s Field where I witnessed for the first time what the true meaning of Christmas was all about….

“I am sitting here at Shepherd’s Field, enjoying the view of Jerusalem today. Call me crazy, but whenever I’ve thought of ‘fields,’ I’ve always thought of green grass and rolling hills! The area we’re in forms kind of a valley, with rocks at every footstep. There is a scattering of small trees that appear to be scratching their fingernails on an ebony sky. This is the only form of life in this desolate, harsh terrain.

Shepherd’s Field. How many hours did the shepherds spend with their flocks here, just enjoying its quiet beauty? What a simple yet fulfilling life they must have lived. Yet they must have been such righteous men, so in control of their own world. What an honor to be witnesses of both angels on high, and then, the Messiah. What an incredible place this must have been to come back to! A place of divine manifestation, a choice place where the Son of God would begin his mortal existence. There is so much that has happened in this Holy Land. The ministering of angels, the footprints of the prophets, the touch of the Christ.

It’s 7:40 p.m. and the Muslim’s Call to Prayer echoes throughout the valley. It’s as if it is coming from two separate sides of Jerusalem and I am the central focal point where they both shall meet. In the moonlight, it appears as if everything around me is moving in slow motion. A subtle, heady perfume is in the night air. The darkened sky is pure, cluttered only by an eternity of stars.

I rarely recognize significant moments when they occur. Momentous things seem to happen without the clash of cymbals or the beating of drums. Usually they occur in the most innocuous and mundane moments, and we understand the impact only when we view it from the summit of the future. But tonight, I recognize. And appreciate. And will never forget….”

-Jerusalem Study Abroad
July 31, 1997
Merry Christmas to all!

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

A song on the radio about skating on a river by 2-year-old Haddie’s favorite artist, Barry Manilow, brought back great memories of Christmas in the Motherland. Truth be told, I’m always homesick when I can’t go home to Calgary because it truly is a winter wonderland with the Christmas Nazis, a.k.a. my family. Never have I seen more presents or hoopla.

Case in point: The first year I even dared to suggest that we draw names instead of buying for everyone (due to our newlywed budget) I was nearly burned at the stake, with brother Jeek screaming, “I got a stinkin’ part-time job JUST so I can pay for Christmas.” Now you can see what I’m up against.

Anyhew, my Canuckian Christmas Top 10 List

10. The Left-Right Game on Christmas Eve. A time when it is confirmed we would never win any I.Q. contests as we struggle to tell the difference between our left and right hand.

9. Tobogganing and giving ourselves icy enemas as we shoot down the steep gully near our house. Followed by hot chocolate in front of a REAL wood-burning fireplace.

8. The year my brother Patrick and I snuck out to open our Grease 8-track and played it 100X before anyone even got out of bed. Oh, and the nifty shag carpet and lime-green wallpaper in all our pictures.

7. Cross-country skiing in sub-zero temperatures on the golf course across the street. Nothing like snorting frozen nose hairs for the holidays.

6. Playing the bells on Christmas Eve. A confirmation that not only are we not musically inclined but we somehow seem to get worse every year.

5. Conservative and shy Dad performing the Polish 12 Days of Christmas. Hilarious even if you’re not numbered among the chosen Pollocks of this world.

4. Ice skating for miles along the “Bow Liver” (as mispronounced by Dad’s good Chinese friend).

3. Spending THE ONLY two Christmases with your honey in Canada praying to the porcelain gods as you vehemently puke up Mom’s cooking that you had craved all year. Thanks, Norwalk Virus.

2. Playing the piano for Dad as we sing carols and belt out all 18 verses of Good King Wenceslas. It’s as if tone-deaf meets off-key for the first time, and what a delightful duet it is. I still can’t figure out why no one else wants to join in.

1. Christmas Eve’s gift exchange game. A brutal competition as we all fight over the coolest farting book of the year. If you think that’s bad, I won’t even get to the lowest of lows when “Bum Darts” somehow made it into the schedule of events one year….

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

The Sound of Music is my all-time favorite movie and I simply must watch it whenever it comes on television. Last night was no exception. And even though I’ve watched it a hundred times and used to make poor Stacey Benson listen to my Sound of Music record while I belted out my off-key rendition of “My Favorite Things,” the story and the music never grow old for me. And YES, I did do The Sound of Music tour whilst in Salzburg a few years back.

And so as I sat there in my pregnant, hormonal state with my Kleenex box in hand throughout the entire movie (you know you’ve got it bad when you’re weeping during the children’s “So Long, Farewell”) I pondered how offended I would have been if, during my wedding, they had sung “How do you solve a problem like Am-ber.”

But my absolute favorite scene is after Maria comes back and Captain Von Trapp goes to her and professes his love as they sing “I Must Have Done Something Good.” That beautiful setting is water-work city for me, pregnant or not. And so with great anticipation, I waited, with my Sweetie by my side. Touched that he chose me over some stupid football game. Ready and eager to sing along with my song of redeeming love to him.

Until he stood up. Right as it began. Shocked, I looked at him and blurted out, “Where are you going?”

“I’ll come back when they start killing the Nazis.”

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

Jamie was a star over the weekend. Well, actually a luminescent shepherd at a local nativity pageant. On Saturday and Sunday, he braved the near sub-zero temperatures amidst snow and blizzards to seek out the baby Jesus, who was found wrapped in swaddling down and frozen in a manger (this is the Colorado version of the story).

The head organizer (or should I say “Herod” organizer) was rather tyrannical and would not let the “actors” wear gloves or hats. Allegedly, frozen fingers were also a part of the original Christmas story. But despite these trying times, my beloved James survived and claims he received the most stage time of anyone, even Mary, Joseph and Jesus. What a swell shepherd, albeit a cocky one.

Haddie and I had vowed to support him during all his performances…until it got cold. And then Jamie’s fair-weather fans only made it to one. The pageant had all the regular makings: Mary still had immaculate labor, birthing Jesus in mere seconds. And those blasted wise men still took eons to arrive. Sure, they came from the east. But I thought Easterners were waaaay faster than that.

But really the highlight of the evening was the performance from the audience. As soon as Haddie spotted Jamie, it was allllll over. For in the cold, silent night, a resounding “Daaaaa Daaaaa” peppered the entire performance. She waved, she called out, she blew kisses. She just couldn’t figure out why Daddy, with his candy-cane stick and silly hat, did not respond. It was then that Shepherd Jamie proved his acting abilities by stifling his laughter. And proved that before we take Hurricane Hadley to another performance ever again, she is Gettin’ a Muzzle for Christmas.

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

It was rather shocking for all the babies and moms at Haddie’s Christmas Playgroup Bash when the highlight of the party was NOT:

The gingerbread house destruction…errr…construction
The Secret Santa’s non-secret gifts
The tasty cookie exchange wherein everyone consumed a week’s worth of calories in one sitting
The chocolate sucker tree that sucked (at least when we had to give them away, according to Haddie)
The bell-playing baby symphony wherein the 1 years olds surpassed my own family’s musical efforts of the past 20 years

But that the true showstopper was when Nolan (the sole boy in attendance), whilst surrounded by his harem of girls, broke out his Playboy Bunny Ears and offered to play “Santa”….

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

Christmas Baking Week is upon me. I approach it each year with great alacrity, as Christmas Baking Week = Christmas Eating Week. OK fine. Jamie spoiled my fun when he read this entry: “Why use ‘alacrity’ (eagerness) when no one knows what it means?” My response: “Because I speak in one-word commands to a 1-year-old ALL DAY LONG! GIVE ME SOMETHING TO BE ALACRITIC ABOUT. Or however you’d say it.

Anyhew, on Le Menu this year are egg nog snickerdoodles, cream cheese cutout cookies, homemade chocolate suckers, caramel toffee squares, sugar ‘n spice cookies, vanilla fudge and of course, my $1,000 Almond Rocha. Not familiar with the latter item? Let me take you back, back, back five years to a journal entry describing when it all began.

December 2001–
“Since Labor Day, I have pumped more than $1,000 into a certain tooth of mine (editor’s note: this would be the same tooth that is still causing me problems five years later). First, the root canal. Then the crown. Then the painful abscess. Then the retreatment surgery. Then the filling to repair the retreatment. I had my final appointment just last month. Or so I thought. And then I started my Christmas baking and made Almond Rocha last night. My first mistake.

My second mistake was thinking I could actually eat it. Innocently, I chomped down. The candy was harder, crunchier than I remembered. Now, I usually don’t make a habit of spitting out my food but something was REALLY wrong and so I regurgitated the particularly crunchy portion of my treat. And there was my tooth. Not my crown, but the actual, veritable tooth. I reacted as would be expected–I let out a blood-curdling scream. My roommates came running and offered their horror and sympathy. And then they stayed and ate my $1,000 Almond Rocha, with all their teeth in tact. I’m not bitter, really.

And so this holiday season, just skip out on your baking all together. That song, “All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth” brings painful and poignant meaning. For my sake, make sure to boycott Christmas carols as well….”

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