Just when you thought pumpkins ruled this roost

The entire Canuck clan is in the Outer Banks this week (18 family members = concentrated chaos).

The only member who was left behind was Remy a.k.a. Fat Kitty. The fat dude can survive if we leave him for a weekend by himself but an entire seven days?

Ugly.

We found this out when he stayed behind for 10 days as we journeyed to Utah.

“But Jamie was with him,” some may protest.

Let’s just say the Lord of the Gourds ain’t too willing to snuggle up to our somewhat needy fat kitty.

Remy is like most cats: he sleeps a lot. He hangs out around us in the morning and after dinner and disappears for several hours for his afternoon naps. But the evenings? Fat dude comes to life and desperately needs to cuddle up to someone in bed.

As he found out last week, that someone ain’t Jamie.

Poor fat cat was so stressed from the lack of affection that his hair started falling out in clumps.

And so I have brought in reinforcements while we are gone. I, the very woman who never even wanted a cat, have hired a cat sitter to stay with him. To snuggle him. Take him for walks in our backyard until he throws up from eating all the grass.

Oh wait. That’s only what happens when Jamie forgets to bring him inside.

Despite Jamie’s indifference to the cat that the rest of us adore, I was surprised to discover he named our production company after him.


Didn’t know we had a production company?

Neither did I.

But to tide you over ’til next week….

Enjoy this revealing video that demonstrates pumpkins probably do rule this roost.

P.S. Is it just me or does the Lord of the Gourds not even pronounce “pumpkin” correctly?

Evidence we know how to party

Last week, we celebrated Aunt Lisa’s birthday and per her request, we met at Pei Wei for dinner. She tried to be in good spirits despite having one foot closer to the grave. But she was understandably bummed because her television had died that day and she can’t afford to replace it.

To try to cheer her up, I gave her a pick of fortune cookies and told her the one she chose would be indicative of the year she was going to have. I have great faith in these little cookies of wisdom. Once upon a time when I was single, I was having a rough day, went to the store, bought an entire box of fortune cookies and ate them all.

I felt moderately ill afterward but was I ever bolstered up by all the well-wishes.

As I assured Lisa that this cookie was going to prophesy that this was going to be HER year, she opened it. The inspirational counsel? “Don’t be tempted to spend money.”

Her year is gonna suck.

We returned to our house where we stuffed her full of 12 mini-cheesecakes from glorious Cheesecake Therapy and presented her with her present from the entire family. So as not to give false expectations, I wrote on the card:

“THIS IS NOT A TV.”

But a pink camera is pretty darn cool.

Jamie had his own ideas for the celebration. He gave us his puppy-dog eyes and said we all needed to go to The Pumpkin Patch. Truth be told, I haven’t been there in a month. He is growing his pumpkins on our neighbor’s property and has to hop two fences to get there. And so we drove.

He is growing two Giants that he measures morning and night. He obviously cannot put them on a scale so he guesstimates their size by measuring their circumference. One of them has already exceeded his previous year’s 755-pound mark and he still has over 30 days of growing until the competition.

See those huge posts and hail netting? They took him weeks to build.


Some pictures defy words but this one?

It reveals that his pumpkin is indeed his second wife.

Bowling Mama I am NOT

I have a confession: I generally avoid activities at which I suck. I’m not sure if this is due to the fact that I hate losing or that I’m not having a good time if I’m not winning.

Oh wait. Is that the same thing?

Regardless, bowling is one such activity. So, when my friend Eva invited my kids and me to go bowing at Brunswick Zone in Wheat Ridge, I hesitated before deciding that socializing with friends in an air-conditioned building far outweighed any personal failures.

We had six moms juggling more than 20 kids so I did not have time to care about the game until I realized that out of the moms, I had come in dead last.

I’m pretty sure the toddlers in the bumper lanes beat me, too.

I laughed it off but have to admit, my fire was fueled just a bit. We went on to play another game and I fared a lot better, even knocking out a strike and a spare. I was still not invested until Eva announced she was one frame away from declaring victory.

Here’s the thing about Eva. On the surface, she appears laid-back but I’ve seen her competitive drive ignited when she talks about her son Rory’s Olympic gymnastics ambitions. I also feared for my life when I got caught in the crossfire as she and her husband Jon watched the United States lose in the World Cup.

The closet competition hounds are the ones you need to fear the most.

Eva may have been one frame away from winning but I noticed that victory was within my reach: she needed to choke and I needed a strike. And so I did what any overly-confident and incompetent bowler would do: I started smack-talking her.

In the end, she did not choke but got choked up just enough that there was a window of opportunity. As I deliberately did my approach, my sports psychology strategies of yesteryear came into play as I chanted, “Strike, strike, strike.”

And miraculously enough, that is exactly what I did. When I won the game, I waxed Biblical by prophesying, “The first shall be last and the last shall be first!”

My final score? A blistering 116.

It was a new lane record, I’m sure.

First Grade Before & After Shots: Evolution to a Hoodlum?

BEFORE

This was Haddie on the morning she started first grade. So excited. So clean-cut. So full of promise.

AFTER

This was the picture that was sent home commemorating her first day.


Should I be worried?

Back-to-school rejoicings and adjustments

I still can’t believe summer break is over. When the clock struck 5 p.m. last Friday, I started rejoicing.

“What’s going on?” Jamie asked.

“I officially survived summer!” I replied.

And I’d even say we thrived with non-stop travel, play, camps, activities, snuggles, reading, story-time, sprinklers, bike-riding and fun.

I know some moms who fall into a depression over their lack of purpose when their children go back to school. While I think a bit of mourning is normal, the depths that some of these women go is completely unhealthy. It makes me worried for them when the children graduate. Children should be a top priority but your entire world and identity should not revolve around them.

Remind me of this when my kids grow up and leave home, rendering me unable to drag myself out of bed.

As for my kiddos:

Bode

Bode began his second year of preschool. He is now The Big Man On (a little) Campus.

Hadley went back to school the day before him. As the two of us hung out together, I sensed an inconsolable sadness in him. Touched that he was missing his “Sissy” so much, I gathered him in my arms. With a few tears welling up, he explained “I’ve got something in my eye,” using Guys’ Oldest Line in the Book.

“It’s OK to miss your sister, Bode. She’ll be back later this afternoon.”
“Huh? I’m sad Super Mario on the Nintendo isn’t working.”

Hadley

Haddie started first grade and having her gone all day will be an adjustment. She is thrilled that art class is included in her curriculum but is “scared about the harder reading and math.”

Her first-day synopsis included eating lunch with Chloe and Taylor and playing at recess with Alex.

I’m sure hard-core academia will set in on Day 2.

Jamie, Bode and I escorted her to school that first morning. She excitedly lined up with her fellow classmates as I ecstatically watched her.

“At what point can I start celebrating?” I murmured to Jamie.

In a flash of serendipity, the school bell rang.

“Right about now!” he replied.”

Summer’s final scenes

It was one of our most amazing summers on record and I’m still a few weeks behind on documenting it all. But our final 72 hours were some of our sweetest yet as we:

Unearthed lost treasures in Ralston Creek.


Almost touched heaven in the trees.


Discovered our very own living room in Chautauqua’s wilderness on our date night, complete with flagstone chairs.

Kicked back with my favorite person in the world.

Dined in style at Aji’s Latin American Restaurant on Boulder’s famed Pearl Street.

Ethereal and murky as these pictures may be, they represent what are only memories of our whirlwind summer. Life has returned to normal. Jamie is working. The kids are starting school. The mountain of laundry has gotten higher.

When I start to get overwhelmed by it all, I think of the memory card full of pictures with stories yet to share.

And I can’t wait for next summer.

Minor the part about the heat. 🙂

Just how big is The Great Pumpkin?

Big enough to eat a small child, that’s how big.

We haven’t seen Bode since we took this picture.

Celebrating back-to-school “Me” day in Utah

It may come as a shock to anyone who knows me but I really, really like to be alone.

I also like to socialize, as my third grade teacher divulged on my report card when she said I had “verbal diarrhea.”

Though I truly love exploring with my children, the toughest adjustment to motherhood for me was lack of alone time. When I was single, I frequently traveled, hiked, biked and played by myself.

Since having kids, alone time is practically non-existent, especially during the summer.

Today marks the beginning of what I call freedom.

Others call it back-to-school.

For three glorious hours a day, four days a week, I will have a sliver of time to work, play and recharge before delving into our wonderfully frenzied life all over again.

A few weeks ago, my children and I traveled in a snazzy (and sadly, loaner) Lincoln MKT to Utah to visit beloved Grandma and Grandpa who unceremoniously abandoned us to move to Utah.

Truly, I have gotten over my bitterness.

Over the course of 10 days, we we visited The Museum of Ancient Life at Thanksgiving Point, which boasts the world’s largest display of mounted dinosaurs. We soared down the zipline, alpine coaster and slide at Park City Mountain Resort’s second-to-none base area, whisked above the treetops on the ferris wheel at Liberty Park, splashed at the family’s cabin at Scofield Reservoir State Park and hiked favorite haunts above Red Butte Gardens.

But admist the flurry of fun, I desperately longed for some alone time and my generous mother-in-law gave me just that when she offered to watch my kids.

Actually, I kinda begged her. Must have been my puppy-dog eyes and bulging I-need-a-break-NOW vein in my forehead.

The great thing about having a solo day on vacation is you are not tempted or guilted into staying home and tackling drugeries like cleaning.

Not that I ever do that anyway.

So, just how did I spent my glorious day?

*In-line skating the Bonneville Shoreline Trail up Provo Canyon to Bridal Veil Falls. When I lived in Utah, this was my Happy Place. It doesn’t take much imagination to figure out why.

*Driving the Alpine Loop Scenic Byway. This 20-mile drive winds through aspen groves and rugged alpine canyons of the Wasatch Mountains, passing Robert Redford’s famed resort, Sundance and the commanding 11,749-foot Mount Timpanogos.

*Buying darling clothes from Utah-based Down East Basics and inhaling a Pinata Colada Salad at Cafe Zupos. If either store were to grace Colorado with their presence, I would single-handedly keep them in business.

I finished off my day by visiting my friend Kristy who just had a darling baby girl. I stopped by Les Madeleines Patisserie and Café to buy us their signature indulgence: the Kouing-aman. This rich buttery pastry from Brittany is so addictive you’d swear it is “crack.”

Though it’s a heckuvalot more calories.

I like to think it’s this mama’s new version of bon bons.

Until later notice….

I am digging myself out of a frenzy of doctor’s appointments, work meetings, birthday parties, testing and back-to-school shopping.

And yes, I procrastinated it all until the very last week before school started.

After seeing our whirlwind summer, would you expect anything less?

I still have many vacation tales to share but for now, my thoughts return to our family vacation at Scofield Reservoir in Utah that included a lot of this….

With him.

Her.
Them.

And this motley crew.
Comments still closed due to Asian spammers. And yep, it’s on my procrastinated to-do list.

Liberty Park’s Fun in the Sun (but NOT Seven Canyons)

I have a long history with Liberty Park.

When I first moved to Salt Lake City after college in the fall of 1997, this second-largest urban park was only a few blocks from my condo. I spent innumerable hours strolling the 80 acres of paths, gardens, and aviary and sitting by the pond.

In an attempt to impress a boy, I took up running there after a four-year sabbatical.

I nearly passed out after jogging only a few hundred feet.

I didn’t say all my memories were good.

But last week, Haddie, Bode and I built some fantastic ones as we had a picnic with Jamie’s mom, sister Tammy and my edible twin nieces.

See? I told you: YUMMY.

We drove our stylin’ Lincoln MKT and grabbed a pina colada salad, Hawaiian BBQ chicken panini and mango-berry salad from new-to-me Cafe Zupas while the kids ate homemade peanut butter sandwiches.

I couldn’t waste such gastronome grandeur on their wavering taste buds.

Liberty Park has a few different play areas and we started with the all-access playground and splash park that was perfect for a warm summer day. The kids raced through the water, climbed the tree house, sifted through the sand, danced to the musical instruments and played on the playground.

Next, we hit the small amusement park and the kids begged me to ride The Wheel of Death. Here’s a secret confession: I’d rather ride a thousand suicidal roller-coasters before I’d enjoy doing a Ferris wheel. But see those darling faces?

Most days I have no problem saying “no.” That day was the exception. And I’m so glad I relented because the ride on the weather Ferris wheel was exhilarating. The area was ensconced by trees whose leaves were almost close enough to touch as we swooped forward, causing the kids to grab and squeal with glee.

As a total bonus, I didn’t even throw up.

But our most highly anticipated Liberty Park activity was Seven Canyons. I’ve been to plenty of water parks but this one is different. Patterned after the valley’s seven canyons, this feature has seven man-man streams flowing around secret nooks, trees, stairs and rocks.

I had heard it was closed for the season due to an oil spill but was delighted to discover the sign that claimed it would be opening at 3 p.m. that day. And so we grabbed some snow cones and waited.

And waited some more.

When 3 p.m. rolled around, there was Nada. An inquisitive mom went to the concession stand to ask and as it turns out, Seven Canyons was closed due to some destructive lightning.

Struck by a bolt of electricity around the exact time I would be there? What’re the odds that would happen to me?

On second thought, don’t answer that question.