Finally, a weekend breather

February 29, 2016 By

With three back-to-back weekends of travel and Jamie’s family visiting for a week during it all, I was ready for our crazed February schedule to calm down. I had some pretty daunting deadlines and the big ones were met: namely cranking out my article for The Broadmoor Magazine (details on my amazing birthday trip forthcoming).

It felt so wonderful to be in Denver last weekend and to actually have some semblance of a normal life (though the kids would somewhat disagree because some of that normalcy was dedicated unto cleaning the garage). I also attended an uplifting stake women’s conference at church, Jamie helped someone move, the boys went out to eat and watched BYU basketball while Hadley and I had a girl’s night to see Les Miserables performed at the local high school. Several kids from church were a part of it including Hadley’s bestie Alex and my hiking friend Dawn’s son was mind-blowingly good as Javert. In fact, the singing was so unbelievable I had to keep reminding myself it wasn’t a professional production. Go, high schoolers!

Both of the kids had sleepovers on Friday–Hadley’s friend Kasey came to us while Bode was at his buddy Nicky’s house–but they ended up at our elementary school’s annual 6th graders vs. teachers basketball game. I had no idea this was the social event of the season with not only basketball but a flash mob of “The Whip.” The girls made Go Students/Anti-Teacher signs to distribute at the game and I loved watching my kids ditch me (image that) to bond with their friends.

(Bode with his besties Kyler, Vinnie, Nicky, Mathias, Jacob, Andy, Angelo, Brody. Hadley and Kasey left to sit with their sixth grade friends after handing out the signs).

I seriously get teary-eyed when I think of the wonderful group of friends they have and how much they adore each other. For the first time, I deeply appreciated how blessed we are to have such an amazing community at our elementary school. Sometimes I get sad about them growing up too fast but I sure caught a glimpse of fun things to come as teens.

Filed Under: Bode, Hadley

Sew Wrong

February 23, 2016 By

Hadley has taken an interest in sewing and asked to bring my sewing machine out of the catacombs. I warned her “that’s fine but you’re on your own,” which is a subtle way of saying I don’t even remember how to thread that thing.

Fortunately, there is a glorious thing called YouTube for tutorials. And her friend Alex who stayed with us a couple of nights while her parents were in Mexico and the girls cranked out this cute skirt our of an old bed skirt.

It’s not that my mom and grandma didn’t try to develop my domestic prowess. When most kids are getting sent to their rooms for bad behavior, this tomboy was sent to the kitchen. Suffice it to say, I spent most of my childhood there. Sewing is out of the question. A wave of nausea still comes over me whenever I get within 20 feet of a fabric store.

The last time I had that sewing machine out was when Hadley was a baby and my friend Sue came for a visit. I knew I had to solicit her help. She has been sewing for more than 20 years and actually enjoys it. Imagine that! One of the few things that helped Haddie jump from 2 hours to a whopping 4-hour stretch of sleep was this little miracle blanket called a sleep sack. A friend gave it to me when Haddie was six months old and it did wonders. The only problem is no one sells this little fleece sleeping bag and Haddie already established there waw NO WAY she is giving up her blankie for some new kid who’s going to draw Grandma’s attentions away from her.

Enter, Sue. I innocently brought up the subject shortly after her arrival and she looked at me suspiciously, “You don’t want me to sew it, do you?” “Ohhhhh no!” I generously told her I just needed “guidance.” Yeah, right.

And so I brought the sewing machine out of the catacombs and plugged it in. And then she warily watched me as I searched for the power button. When I finally located it after about five minutes, I did a victory dance. It was then that she knew just how bad off we were. And how long the process would inevitably take with my pedal to the metal so she reluctantly volunteered. Victory!

But then came regret. That’s all it took? Displaying my utter and complete incompetence upfront?

If only I’d figured out this strategy years ago; it would’ve saved me countless hours of futile Domestic-Diva-in-Training sessions.

 

Filed Under: Humor

Potty Training, Jesus and Bathroom Habits

February 17, 2016 By

When we were potty training Hadley there were very few topics that were off-limits at our house. One of her favorite subjects was the potty. Or more specifically, everyone else’s bathroom habits.

H: “Grandma–poopy?”
Me: “Yes, Hadley.”
H: “Uncle Chris–poopy?”
Me: “Yes, Hadley.” And I then explain how they go in the big-boy and big-girl potty.

She was particularly fascinated by Jamie’s bathroom habits, primarily because he didn’t allow her in the bathroom while he did his business; he said he didn’t want to “confuse her.” Personally, I don’t think it’s fair that I was expected to share audience with her while he was able to blissfully lock himself up and pee in peace. There is something very unsettling about having a toddler observe and imitate your every move during your most ….errr..vulnerable moments.

On a related subject (and believe me, this does relate), one of my favorite stories in scripture is when Jesus lovingly washed the feet of his apostles during The Last Supper. This passage has so resonated with me over the years that when I did a study abroad in Jerusalem and spotted a beautiful olive-wood carving of this scene, I promptly bought it. I keep this little statue in our den and have treasured it over the years.

Hadley and I were playing in the den when she looked up the carving and delightfully exclaimed, “Jesus!” I was pleasantly surprised she recognized him from the rendering because I had never before pointed it out to her. Just as I was about ready to expound upon the doctrines of the passage befitting to a 2-year-old, Haddie said it all:

“Jesus–POOPING!”

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to view that statue in the same light again.

 

Filed Under: Uncategorized

Pacified

February 16, 2016 By

Call it what you want. Binky. Pacifer. Paci. Soother. I call it a little cut of hell.

Sure, I loved Hadley’s pacifier when it quelled her cries but it was so traumatic breaking her of her habit that I wouldn’t let a binky go anywhere near Bode’s mouth when he was born.

And it was a 12-step program to make her quit.

Day 1: Jamie did the “snip-snip.” No, this is not in reference to the procedure he underwent when our child-bearing years passed. But rather, he snipped the end off of Binky. We then left it out in an obvious place and waited with baited breath as she approached. Predictably, she jumped right on it, as she often does when she makes a non-sleepytime Binky discovery. But after a few sucks, she took it out to observe, and then tried to put it in her mouth in a few different positions (sideways, backwards, etc.) She then made the proclamation “Broke” and threw it on the ground. We thought that was the end of it. We were wrong.

When it came nap-time, that is where the true levels of her addiction were revealed. Not only did she lay hysterically in my arms for almost two hours, she was just like a heroin addict going into withdrawals. Her entire body shaking, she screeched, “Binky, binky, binky” over and over again. It took everything that was in me to not give in as I kept picturing them mocking her at her High School Graduation ceremonies if she was still sucking on that thing.

Day 2: Nightmarish Nap-time Part II. Haddie makes her first suicide attempt. I put her in her crib after a half hour of snuggles and comforting her, with the resolve to let her cry it out. This seemed to be working. Until I heard the loud BAM! in the next room. I rushed in there and yep, she had launched out of her crib for the first time with a big ol’ goose egg to show for it. She claimed in no uncertain terms that life was not worth living if she couldn’t have Binky. There were no naps that day, either.

Day 3: Same pattern: snuggles, cry it out (with the prayer she would not launch out of her crib), only this time she went to sleep. Well, for only 15 minutes mind you. She started crying and though I was tempted to let her fuss it out, maternal instinct took over and I went in. She was covered from head-to-toe in her own vomit. Possibly part of the withdrawal program as she puked up 18 month’s worth of plastic inhalation? I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening cleaning up her incessant puke and diarrhea fest. Seven loads of laundry later, I passed out at the end of the night.

Day 4: Grandma Day. THANKFULLY. I was a nervous wreck and after going for a hike (a.k.a. Pregnant Lady Waddle) to relieve my stress, I spent the afternoon sleeping.

Day 5: Went down with little fuss and only asked for Binky periodically throughout the day.

Day 6: Finally only spoke fondly of Binky, like he was a dear, dear friend from her distant past.

A friend once shared the story of taking the paci away from her toddler. After a week, I asked her how it was going? “Bad,” she moaned. Two weeks later: “Worse,” she commiserated. By three weeks of crying and sleepless nights, she gave the pacifier back but with one caveat: she tied it on a string to the crib so her daughter could only use it to self-sooth during naptime.

At least that was the intention until she spotted her daughter sneaking in and out of her bedroom all day long so she followed her in. And watched. She went straight for the binky, took a few urgent, frenzied sucks and then walked away after she got her “hit.”

That, my friends is addiction.

 

Filed Under: Uncategorized

Lucky #13

February 15, 2016 By

I was super competitive in sports growing up. I still remember crowding together with my teammates from Mr. Bortelin’s soccer team and grabbing jerseys with our very own number for the first time. The most popular went first: #1, #7 and before long, only a few numbers remained, including #13. I promptly snatched it up.

“Don’t wear #13,” one of my friends chastened me. “That’s an unlucky number.”

Never one to shy away from a challenge, I retorted, “Then I’ll be unlucky for the other team.”

And #13 stayed with me throughout my entire sporting career. Bonus: I never had to fight anyone for my number.

Today marks 13 years with this guy and I’m so grateful to be lucky in love.

Happy anniversary, Babe!

Filed Under: Jamie

Winter Adventures in Glenwood Springs, Colorado

February 9, 2016 By

One of my family’s goals is to ski all 25 of Colorado’s mountain resorts. We only have a handful left that include several of our state’s smaller ski areas which are perfect for families.

Last weekend, we played in Glenwood Springs, about three hours from Denver. I’ve been a longtime fan of this area in the summer–from incredible hiking to the World’s largest natural hot springs to Glenwood Caverns, an adventure park on top of a mountain with cave tours, thrill rides, alpine coasters, laser tag and much more.

Mile High Mamas has frequently touted Sunlight Mountain Resorts’ Ski, Swim and Stay package as Colorado’s most affordable family ski vacation (normal rates start at just $99 and kids 12 and under ski free). However, it wasn’t until last weekend that we could finally personally endorse this staycation.

Read my full article here at Mile High Mamas!

Two days before our trip, I was contacted by the resort’s PR rep Troy who asked if a camera crew could follow us around for a couple of days. They had been hired by Colorado Ski Country USA to capture family adventures at many of their resorts. Since we’re not exactly media-shy, we were game and I was delighted to learn Heidi was one of the producers, a spunky gal I’d worked with at 9News. Her partner in crime was Juliana Broste, a talented freelance video journalist whose life I should have lived during my single days.

Having your very own camera crew is a double-edged sword. How cool is it that we’ll have this trip professionally documented? But that came with a lot of patience as we waited for them to setup the scene, grab the right equipment and, on the rare occasion, redo a shot.

Of course, that do-over was racing side-by-side on our snowmobiles across Baylor Park’s powder-perfect playground so it wasn’t all bad!

Great love hath no man than when your snowmobling guide Ty offered to warm up Hadley’s cold fingers in his armpits.

Read all about our adventures at Mile High Mamas but something I didn’t go into to much depth about was The Crash. We truly had the most epic snowmobiling adventure ever and were traveling single-file back to our cars on the groomed terrain. Jamie and Bode had fallen a bit behind the group (a rarity because usually he was leaving us in his dust) and there were a couple of tight turns that, had I not been behind the guide, might have landed me in the dunk as well. When you have three feet of powder right off the trail, a misstep is easy and that’s what happened to the boys as they didn’t make a sharp turn and slid down a small slope. Jamie didn’t have enough time to hit the “kill” button, Bode slammed into him (momentarily blacking out) while the snowmobile hit a tree off the trail, throwing Jamie from the machine.

Miraculously, Bode was unhurt, Jamie banged up his lip, jaw and knee and the snowmobile had been wedged at just the right angle to not cause any damage. (Read Jamie’s infamous one-liner about it at Mile High Mamas).

Getting it out was another matter.

We had two guides, A.J. and Tyler. I was near the front with A.J. and when he saw the boys and Ty weren’t behind us, he halted our group and raced back. Minutes ticked by as my apprehension grew. I knew something happened to the boys because it was only them and Ty at the rear of the pack. About 20 minutes later, A.J. rode back, telling us they had crashed, they were fine, but they needed help getting the snowmobile out and grabbed Troy. We were so relieved when they finally emerged.  It was such a bummer ending to the perfect snowmobiling day but our guides handled everything like pros.

The real downer was when Jamie couldn’t ski with us at Sunlight Mountain Resort the next day and instead spent it soaking in Glenwood Hot Springs and getting a massage at their Spa (so don’t feel too badly for him). The kids and I fell in love with this 680-acre resort (where they even skied their first double-black diamond!) The weather was perfect, our camera crew was a blast and the terrain was so fun.

First double-black diamond

Hadley had a GoPro attached to her chest while all of us got to experiment skiing with a selfie stick. Tip: don’t look at the camera, look at where you’re going. Seems like a no-brainer until you’re brainless on the slopes holding a camera in front of your face.

We had originally planned to hit Glenwood Caverns that evening but decided it would be in Jamie’s best interest to have another soak. This time, we headed over to Glenwood Springs’ newest hot spot Iron Mountain Hot Springs.  With 16 mineral hot springs pools of various temperatures and a freshwater family pool overlooking the Colorado River, we were in heaven as the town’s annual fireworks display was shot from nearby Two Rivers Park in conjunction with the Sunlight Mountain 2015 Ski Spree.

Put this particular weekend on your calendar to visit Glenwood Springs next year. I know we’ll be there.

Filed Under: Colorado, Family travel, Jamie, skiing

Chicken in the Dominican Republic

February 5, 2016 By

Purging the house and my files has brought back so many wonderful memories. I was thrilled to find all my old columns when I was the Travel Editor at Sports Guide magazine, including the article I wrote on the Dominican Republic when I was invited on my very first “Media Familiarization Tour.” Basically, this is when publicists invite you to their destination, schmooze the heck out of ya and hope you do a good write-up on their venue. I know this process well because I did it both as a publicist (schmoozer) and as a journalist (schmoozee).

Welp this particular Fam Tour was hosted by the travel and tourism board of the Dominican Republic. Basically, there were about 10 of us on this adventure trek that took us all over the DR (read my story here). There was one other athletic journalist there who delved into the many activities with me but the rest were New Yorkers who didn’t have a clue. I was the youngest in the group and felt I was trying to set a credible reputation amongst all the other established journalists. Note: I said trying. Because it didn’t take me too long to fail.

We were traveling to the interior of the DR for a white-water rafting trip. The curvy mountain roads inspired much car sickness for the others so I sat alone on the back row of our van. Upon arriving at our destination, we ate lunch and then a few of us went back to the van to grab our swim suits. Because my gear was at the back of the van, I went first. I reached beneath my seat when something FLEW out, nearly attacking me. Instinct took over and in typical Amber fashion, I freaked out. And I mean freaked out by screaming, “It’s ALIVE!!!!!”

Now, I swear this is what I said. Witness accounts differ as they all attest I instead screached, “Run for your LIVES!” A miniscule difference in messaging, wouldn’t you agree? Regardless, I soon had the entire camp running from from some unforeseen beast that was going to devour us.

I should just end the story there and let you all think I was the hero and saved the day. But that would be a lie. When we crept back to the van, we found our van driver laughing hysterically, holding his pet chicken that he had stashed under my seat. Yes, a chicken. Unbelievable. I’m glad I didn’t speak Spanish because I figured out he wasn’t all too complimentary in his commentary.

So much for my “cred” among the other journalists. I’m just hoping that chicken we coincidentally had for dinner was in no way related….

Filed Under: Humor, travel

Happy Ambruary!

February 4, 2016 By

It’s the most wonderful month of the year: “Ambruary!” OK, more like our most stressful month juggling three trips (including  a family reunion next week with Jamie’s family), my birthday, our anniversary and Valentine’s Day. Money is super tight so we’ve already agreed not to buy gifts and really, nothing can compare to 2007 when Jamie surprised me with a car.

Lest you are blown away that Jamie bought me a car for my birthday, let me clarify something: we’d been in the market for a while. He had just received a promotion at the newspaper so we could finally afford an extra car payment.  Now, that car is almost as old as me and desperately needs to be replaced.

We also decided to go to a new snazzy restaurant. Our cruisin’ friend Ivan gave us a $50 gift certificate he and his fellow attorneys received for their grand opening. That should have been tip-off #1 that we’d have to mortgage our house to pay for the balance. Tip #2 was when there weren’t any menus…or prices listed anywhere. Tip #3 wasn’t until we received our bill and learned they charged us $20 for Haddie’s meal. You know: the food she picked off our plates that consisted of one green bean, three bites of meat and a roll.

I won’t divulge how much we ended up forking over for our fantastic dinner, even after the discount. Just know in that month, we blew our entertainment budget. For the entire year.

And then for the pick-me-up conversation with my mother I had that day:

“Yeah, I’m 35. Can you believe it? Doesn’t that make you feel kinda old, Mom?”

“It should make you feel old, Amber!”

Good to know the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree…

Baby Bode also had a birthday gift for me: he slept through the night and didn’t wake up until 5 a.m. Or so I thought. Until I realized that my poor rheumatism-ridden honey woke up with him.

Jamie: “You mean you didn’t hear him screaming bloody murder?”

What I said:

“I didn’t hear a peep! I’m so sorry you had to endure that!”

What I wanted to say:

“Thank you, NyQuil.”

Here’s for surviving another epic Ambruary.

Filed Under: Uncategorized