My [Not So] Funny Valentine

February 11, 2008 By

During my single years, the road was rocky as I attempted to find a man who would one day be legally required to be my Valentine.

Some people call it marriage.

My most memorable S.A.D. (Single Awareness Day) was my junior year of college. I had been casually dating a guy for a month. When I say casually, I mean casually. Even though we spent an inordinate amount of time together, he had shown no romantic inclinations towards me.

He was a bit of an anomaly: drop-dead gorgeous and absolutely clueless. Women fawned over him but he was immune to their charms. He was on the fast-track in business school but was also dirt poor and worked as an on-campus janitor at 4 a.m. One gal who lived in his apartment complex offered to drive him every morning. At 3:30 a.m. “Oh, she is just being nice,” he rationalized. “Besides, she drops me off on the way to the track.” The track that did not open until 5 a.m.

I decided that if he did not make his move on Valentine’s Day that he never would. My parents had even sent him $20 to take me to dinner. But the big day approached and nothing happened. No invitation, no flowers, nothing. He finally called me the night before.

“Hey, do you have plans tomorrow?”
“Well, not exactly,” I replied coyly. “What do you have in mind?”
“I have a film I need to see for my biology class.”

Surely he was kidding. It was a cover for a romantic evening when he would finally profess his undying love for me.

“Sounds like fun!” I would play along.

When he arrived at my doorstep the next evening, he was exuberant. “Hey, thank your parents for the money they sent me!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t have to donate plasma this week and was able to put it to good use.”

Good use that evidently did not include taking me to dinner.

I still had not lost hope. Until he took me to the theatre in the biology building on campus. As dread infiltrated my very being, I realized this was all there was. I was simply a buddy he was dragging along to fulfill his class credit. Just when I thought it could not get worse, it did.

The film de choix?

Fetal Development: A Nine-Month Journey.

That was the last I ever saw of him.

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

Am I Overreacting?

February 8, 2008 By

Every week, I eagerly turn to the Police Beat in our local paper to find out the latest and not-so greatest of our community. Yesterday, I rolled my eyes at the 16-year-old kid who was busted with marijuana and wrote a letter defending his use of weed by quoting the Bible. How utterly religious of him.

I looked at my two young children and thought “How glad I am I don’t have to worry about this yet.” But then I kept reading.

The next story was about cocaine found at a preschool. I was initially upset but then became enraged when I realized it wasn’t just any preschool: it was at the playground at my daughter’s preschool.

The school administration somehow thought it was not important to relay the information to parents that illegal drugs had been found on the premises during school hours. These same officials who somehow deem it necessary to print off hundreds of fliers detailing banal “issues” such as the dangers of letting children use the handicapped door opener.

I addressed the issue at school that morning. The director was stupefied over it all. She said she called the police to investigate and her supervisor advised her to not go public with the information. She defended herself: “We did not know it would get printed in the paper.”

Obviously.

Do I blame the school? Definitely not. They likely had nothing to do with the cocaine being there.

Do I blame how they handled it? Definitely. I firmly believe that anything illegal on school property should be made known. Parents have the right to be informed so they can reinforce safeguards to their children if they see something out of place.

Their lack of responsiveness to the situation demonstrates a serious lapse of judgment and even after I addressed the issue, there was a foreboding lack of accountability.

The director assured me it will likely be an isolated incident, to which I respond, “Doesn’t every chain of incidents begin with just one?”

But I certainly hope she is right.

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

Just when you thought you had heard everything….

February 8, 2008 By

It is the husband’s version of “The dog ate my homework.”

“But honey, I am so late because there was a 40-foot sinkhole in the middle of the road.”

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

Dancing Queen

February 7, 2008 By

As per Monday’s post, Jamie and I hit the slopes with Haddie for the first time on Saturday. To avoid waking up at 5 a.m. to beat the ski traffic, we opted to stay at the Beaver Lodge a few miles from the resort. Picture low-end and then go down a few notches.

Hadley loved the windy, fun house-esque stairwell and bought into our “camping” adventure story when we stuck her on the floor with a sleeping pad. Our evil plan would have gone well had she not rolled over, only to wakeup at 5 a.m. (you know: the hour we were trying to avoid). She screached, “I am stuck under the bed!” which still resonates in my mind today as her father did not even flinch. And yes, that is real wood panelling in the picture.

Our experience at SolVista was unquestionably the best ski day I have had since I moved to Colorado. The resort hooked Hadley up with ski lessons and even appointed a luminous mountain hostess to ski with Jamie and I. Kelly reminded me so much of myself during my jet-setting single years. Only she was exponentially cooler.

As we lunched in the lodge, talk turned to outdoor pursuits. Jamie and I expounded upon a backpacking trip we did in Canyonlands last Spring. Brazenly, Jamie queried,

“So, Kelly. Do you do any hiking?”

[Nonchalantly] Oh sure. I once spent 2.5 months backpacking the Pacific Crest Trail.”

End of that conversation.

Saturday night, Jamie, Haddie and I went to dinner and then played outside at the resort’s carnival. They had a dance competition for kids and Hadley delved right into the land of strobe and lights.

Now, something you should know about The Hurricane is the kid can’t dance. At all. She is even enrolled in a dance class in an attempt to counteract my non-dancing genes. But after watching her fumble around in class a few months ago, I called Jamie and confided that “We. Are. Wasting. Our. Money.”

But maybe being a good dancer ain’t all it is cracked up to be. During the dance contest, she flapped, she flailed, she spun and (brace yourselves for this) she won. Of course, they never actually divulged why she won but she was certainly the most entertaining kid out there.

Her prize was an ugly stuffed lizard and they immediately became inseparable. And extremely annoying. The kid even woke us up at 6 a.m. the next morning in our gorgeous two-bedroom slope-side condo (note: no wood panelling present) to inform us that “lizard was hot.” And yes, that would be twice in one weekend we were awoken before dawn.

It was then that Jamie and I debated the possibilities of sending hot lizard back to the desert where it belongs.

Or just get it bronzed as this will likely be the only dance competition the dear girl ever wins….

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

STOP THE MOM BLOG PRESSES!

February 5, 2008 By

This post is about the kid. You know – the one who will be FOUR in May – actually pooped in the potty tonight. For those new to this blog, let it be known this is equal unto the pearly gates opening, saving me from the very gates of hell.

We had a looooong laundry list of incentives for when the deed was finally done, including a night out to see Mr. Chuck E. Cheese. The Hurricane was thrilled to dance with the overstuffed mouse and never before has a parent cried out of sheer relief to see The Master Motivator.

I do not know if this was just a fluke and if she will return to her old habits tomorrow. But for now, BROWN cannot do anything for me except find its way to the toilet (thank you very much, ridiculous UPS campaign).

On another note, I jumped on the bandwagon and recently participated in The Great Interview Experiment. I loved the idea of interviewing and being interviewed by someone new. I have yet to hear back from my interviewee (and will post it here) but was interviewed by the lovely Fabricated Goddess, a beautiful, entertaining, crafty Canuck. And by crafty, I mean Maker of Crafts, not wily. Like other [Crazy Bloggin'] Canucks you may know.

Anyhew, come on over and checkout her interview with me. She unearthed a lot of good dirt, including the sordid details of my speedy courtship, Jamie’s laundry list of health problems, my brother’s memorable gift to him for our first Christmas and my life’s mantra.

And it has nothing to do with poop.

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

Confessions of a Ski School Dropout at SolVista Basin

February 4, 2008 By

I love skiing and even made a living promoting its virtues at a popular Utah ski resort. But I terminated my love affair with the slopes when I had children. Or rather, it fired me. There were a number of different reasons: cost, breastfeeding, babysitter hassles, I-70’s gridlocks and those $400 ski boots that no longer fit because pregnancy had inflated my feet an entire size [insert sob here].

Oh, and my snow pants are too small. But that is a different issue entirely.

After a few years of darkness, I could finally see the light at the end of the tunnel: my firstborn is old enough to learn to ski! So when I heard about SolVista Basin’s fourth annual Kids’ Totally Insane Winter Blast at SolVista Basin at Granby Ranch, I jumped at the opportunity. I figured I could swallow my pride long enough to rent some Big-Foot appropriate gear.

I resolved shortly after our arrival that SolVista would be where our children learn to ski because the resort is devoid of crowds, has a slew of family-friendly events, a tubing hill and a ski school that is renowned for its innovative Direct Parallel teaching program. The newly-renovated Base Camp Lodge is located at the bottom of a natural bowl that features mostly green and blue runs – perfect for young families but so different from the more challenging terrain to which I had grown accustomed. You know, back in the days when I could squeeze into my ski pants.

Upon arrival, Jamie and I dumped dropped off three-year-old Hadley at ski school and jumped on the chairlift. We spotted a few alien deer tepidly making their way across the giant sweeps of snow that covered the earth like a moonscape. The slopes were nearly empty as we made first tracks on groomed runs, powder playgrounds and bruising bumps terrain.

We then watched the pitiable ski instructors round up the multitude of jabbering and whining preschoolers. I figured they had to be nuts. Or masochists.

Keeping track of them all was a challenge and Hadley sometimes got left in the dust. Not wanting to be one of those parents, we simply cheered or pushed her along whenever we got the chance.

“Hadley, you have the biggest audience,” her teacher wryly commented.

This is ski instructor speak for “Overprotective Parents, GET. OUT. OF. HERE!!!!!”

And so we did, dining at the delectable Seven Trails Grille. That afternoon, the weather took a turn for the worse. We skied a few more runs before heading in to retrieve Hadley. I was greeted by a frenzied staff member.

“Oh, we have been trying to reach you on your cell phone and posted messages all over the resort! Hadley had an accident.”

Now, I’m sure most parents would have panicked. But as the mother of a potty-training-challenged kid who was enrolled in a ski school where it is required, I just groaned. While the rest of the kids skied that afternoon, she pooped in her ski pants and passed out on the bench. Because evidently defecation is draining.

After Operation Cleanup, Jamie and I took her out for a few runs where she finally started catching on. There was the glory of victory.

And the agony of defeat.

And the promise of many more outings to SolVista’s ski school. If our little Potty Training Dropout is ever readmitted, that is….

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