A Utah Family Travel Writer's Adventures with Altitude
In my Denver Post column today, I was given the assignment to write about how to balance short-term family needs with long-term retirement planning.
And then en route to discuss this with a financial planner, Jamie side-swiped another car.
You can’t make this stuff up, people.
The kids and I are spending the next few weeks in Canada with my family.
Something always cracks me up when I go into my parent’s bedroom. I first discovered it last summer when I was hanging out on their bed. From across the room on my dad’s dresser, I saw a picture of me with a guy. At first, I thought it was Jamie but quickly dismissed that when I saw his sandy-blonde hair. I did a mental checklist of my ex-boyfriends and tried to figure out who on earth I was with.
Upon close-up investigation, I laughed out loud when I realized it was not my beloved husband but rather, a picture of me with The Great One, Wayne Gretzky (whom I met–and insulted–when I was at the 2010 Vancouver Games for Microsoft Office).
Even Jamie says he can’t compete with that.
I usually look forward to the Fourth of July. The fireworks are shot right above our neighborhood so we shut our street down for a huge party. However, this year, our fellow partiers all went on vacation so I feared our celebrations would be a bust.
The Ice Cream
We decided to make our own fun, starting with a holiday tradition that would be an even better tradition if we remembered to do it every year: homemade ice cream. The night before the holiday, Hadley and I made the most unbelievable snickerdoodle ice cream but here’s a tip: the recipe only made 1.5 quarts.
If you want to keep your man happy, you will go back in the kitchen and make two more batches. Good thing we all benefited from it.
While the ice cream was churning, we had the best time playing on the front lawn and doing shadow puppet plays with the flashlight on the porch. Hadley and I went for a walk around our neighborhood in our PJs.
Because we’re those kind of neighbors. #SunglassesatNight
The Breakfast
We always start our July 4th by waking up early for our church’s stake pancake breakfast and patriotic program.
Gotta love the tongue in this one. Pancake-eating takes a lot of concentration.
The Day at the Museum
Then, because we had no plans, Jamie suggested we go to the Denver Museum of Nature and Science. Bode is obsessed with space so Jamie bought him a Living Social deal. Little dude was in his element and we were shocked that the normally cram-packed museum was nearly empty. We raced from exhibit to exhibit without any lines and delighted in the Planetarium’s Cosmic Journey: A Solar System Adventure. 
Our tickets included an IMAX. We really wanted to see Great White Shark 3D or Galapagos 3D but the show times didn’t work for us so we reluctantly settled upon Flight of the Butterflies 3D. It. Was. Unbelievable. IMAX always does a great job not only telling a story but sharing a journey and this one literally had me in tears…as I marveled over butterflies. Go see it; you won’t be disappointed.
The Party
Though 99 percent of the world bailed on us for our evening festivities, we had our good friends pull through. Bonus: they have six kids so that means it’s an instant party wherever they go. My friend Eva is an unbelievable cook so brought a full spread of food and we threw in our ice cream and made patriotic dessert pizzas (delish recipe here) for good measure. It turned out to be a fun night of great conversation, croquet and fireworks.
And the biggest announcement of all? We slept in the next morning, which rarely happens. I’m usually awake between 5:30-6 a.m. and crashed until 8:45 a.m., Hadley slept ’til 9:30 a.m. and Bode achieved a personal “high score” for sleeping: 10:24 a.m.
It was a winning holiday for all. Happy Independence Day, everyone!
I have tried to instill a love of nature in my kids–just last week we went hiking four times, my daughter recently returned from YMCA of the Rockies’ traditional overnight Camp Chief Ouray and at the end of July they’re both enrolled in Avid4Adventure’s Survival Skills Camp. We are an outdoor-loving family!
But my favorite childhood memories are of camping and that is one area in which we’ve fallen short with my own family. There is nothing like the sense of community at campgrounds, playing with new BFFs, eating tin foil dinners and s’mores, exploring and exploring some more, and telling stories around the campfire.
Here’s a recap of our camping trips since having kids.
Trip 1: Hadley had just turned 1 and was a horrible sleeper so she wailed all night long two nights in a row. Our campsite at Golden Gate Canyon State Park was on a slope. Hadley had just learned to walk so was falling over every few feet and when she wasn’t face-planting, she was trying to crawl into the fire pit. Our three-day weekend was cut a day short.
Trip 2: We took a few years off from camping to get pregnant and have our son Bode. When he was 2, we joined our good friends at Eleven Mile State Park. Never been? Keep it that way. I’d read about it in FamilyFun magazine and it was a huge, barren disappointment. In addition to camping, capsizing and crying, my baby had the most disgusting, explosive case of diarrhea and I spent hours at the camp laundromat cleaning out his car seat and clothes. (Ugly details here).
Trip 3: Waterton Lakes National Park, Canada. This is my favorite place on earth and I was ecstatic to introduce my kids to this wonderland that borders Glacier National Park. Sure there were minor hiccups (such as near-hurricane-strength winds) but it was our best camping trip to date.
Trip 4: Bear Lake State Park. Last year, Mile High Mamas partnered with Coleman for the Great American Campout. It had all the fixins for an amazing weekend with horseback riding, games, gourmet camp meals and kayaking. But do you remember that record-breaking 105-degree day last June? ‘Nuff said.
Trip 5: Camp Dick last weekend. This was going to be our year. The kids are 7 and 9 and the perfect ages for camping. Check-in wasn’t until 2 p.m. so we had a few hours to kill when we arrived at this campground set in a glacial valley just off the Peak to Peak Scenic Byway.
The kids caught butterflies and threw rocks in the adjacent Middle Saint Vrain Creek and we hiked a portion of the Buchanan Pass Trail.
We have been united with our fellow Coloradoans in praying for rain to defray the horrible wildfires…we just didn’t want the drought to end right then. All was going shockingly well until we felt our first raindrop. We’d waded through near hurricanes and diarrhea; a bit of rain wasn’t going to deter us.
Then it started down-pouring so we raced back to the car and ate lunch. Earlier, we’d spotted the remains of the previous night’s hail storm but miracles–the weather broke a half-hour later and we still had plenty of time to explore before we could set-up our tent.
Adventurous Hadley (who no longer falls every few feet and cries all night), discovered a faint trail on the other side of the creek so we bush-whacked our way to my children’s version of wonderland: a massive boulder field. We spent the next hour free-climbing these rock monsters and Hadley and my husband braved a steep slope to a cossetted cave. I hung back with my more-cautious Bode who called out encouragements such as “you know you can crack your head open and slide all the way down.”
Kid needs a lesson or two on pep talks.
Then all hell (or rather, hail) broke loose and it could not have come at a worse time. We were forging back through the forest when Bode slipped and hurt himself. Not even 5 seconds later, hail started pounding us and blinded, we lost the trail that was already barely there, forcing us to wade over a swamp land and practically toss now-hysterical Bode across the creek.
When we arrived at the road, we still had over a mile to where we’d parked our car at the trailhead but our soon-to-be acquired campsite was right around the corner. “I’ll run and get the car and you go to camp,” I bravely volunteered. Come hail or high-water, I would lead my family to safety!
I raced through the campground, hail pelting and drenching every inch of my body. It seemed like an eternity before I reached the car but I raced back to our campsite and saw my poor little family hunkered down under a tree trying to shield themselves from the frozen sheets of ice.
“We’ve taken a vote,” my husband announced.
“What is it?” I already knew the answer.
“We’re ready to go home.”
I looked at our campsite, the mud puddles thick from the previous night’s storm were now filled with snow. We could have toughed it out if we were staying in a camper but there was nowhere to setup our tent. And most importantly, the sky ‘s furry was just getting started.
We called it a day at 1:30 p.m., just 4.5 hours from the time we left our house.
Better luck next year.
I'm a Canadian-born mom of two, former Denver Post columnist, family travel writer, editor of MileHighMamas.com and 9News contributor. Expert on all things Utah, Denver, family and travel. Lover of laughter and life. Happily married to a man obsessed with growing The Great Pumpkin. Learn More