Family | Life Elevated Mom

What movies scared you as a child?

October 27, 2008 by Amber

We unintentionally traumatized our daughter last week.

Close Encounters of the Third Kind was on television. I have never seen it so my husband announced we would have family movie night. We thought nothing of it. Hadley (4) and Bode (2) have played in the room when we’ve watched movies plenty of times before. The difference? Hadley decided to watch with us.

My kids are pretty sheltered, only watching shows like Dora the Explorer and the occasional episode of Ugly Betty. But Swiper the Fox and villainous Willamina Slater don’t have anything on UFOs and aliens.

Who knew?

The children watched the first 45 minutes with us and then we put them to bed. A few minutes later, Hadley was back, professing she was scared.

I have to admit, we kind of blew her off. I mean, the kid doesn’t usually get scared and would give Boo of Monsters Inc. a run for her money. We gave her a soothing hug and a kiss and told her to go back upstairs.

We didn’t hear another peep out of her but then we found out why. After the movie, I rounded the corner from our TV room and there was poor sweet Hadley, passed out on the floor. She had been too freaked out to go to her room by herself and had fallen asleep.

Remorse enveloped me and we carried her to her bed. That’s when the screaming started. Jamie soothed her for a while and finally brought her in our bedroom. “I have a plan,” he announced. He placed her beside me in bed and walked out of the room. Some plan.

Once she fell asleep, he miraculously came back and put her in her own bed but she kept waking up and she eventually came to sleep in our bed.

At least one of us slept that night.

Good wife that I am, I blame my husband. I should have seen him planting the early seeds of trauma. Back when Haddie was 2, she was watching Chevy Chase’s Vacation with him and I overheard the following conversation:

“Wow, Daddy. What are they doing?”

“Just looking for a place to dispose of the body, Sweetie.”

Filed Under: Family, Hadley, Humor

To Yellowstone…and Beyond!

August 14, 2008 by Amber

In honor of my Western movie lovin’ Grandpa Wilde, I shall dedicate this post about our vacation unto one of his favorite films: The Good, the Bad and the Ugly.

The Good: Staying at our brother-in-law’s cabin in Island Park on the Snake River. Paddling the children to get huckleberry ice cream at Henry’s Fork Landing in our inflatable kayaks.

The Bad: The 7-mile hike to Fairy Falls in Yellowstone pushing the children in the Chariot (which performed marvelously as opposed to our Canadian travails). Then carrying the Chariot over the marsh. Then lugging the children…and the Chariot those final miles.

The Ugly: The revelation that your husband bears an unsettling resemblance to a buffalo in Jackson, WY.

The Good: Watching the kids marvel at Old Faithful, finding a hole-in-the-wall BBQ joint and a fantastic playmill theatre in West Yellowstone.

The Bad: Wandering around West Yellowstone searching for stye medicine.

The Ugly: Finishing Breaking Dawn, only to accuse Hunky Hubby of no longer giving me the kind of vampire love that Edward gives Bella. This spurred his amorous attack that resulted in a bloody and swollen lip. Evidently, human love bites.

The Good: Visiting one of my dearest friends, Jason in Rexburg and reminiscing about the good ol’ days. Chuckling at the fruits of his bachelorhood, which consisted of five dirt bikes in his garage.

The Bad: Hadley getting a scratch on her foot and becoming inconsolable for the rest of the visit.

The Ugly: Attempting to take this picture.

The Good: Hiking mind-numbingly beautiful Jenny Lake outside of Jackson. Without the Chariot but with Sherpa Uncle Chris.

The Bad: This conversation whilst driving through Island Park–

Jamie: Better keep your eye out for some Monopolies going across the road!
Me: Huh?
Jamie: That sign. It said “Game Crossing.”

The Ugly: Missing the pinnacle event of the whole trip while I was back at the cabin with napping Bode. My MIL Linda walked across the dock and she lost her balance. And then time was suspended as this woman–the very epitome of class and grace–landed face-first, spread eagle in the river. Her humiliation was rewarded by her insolent children who were on the ground in hysterics.

I only wish I had been there to show this great matriarch of our family the respect that she deserved.

You know. By taking pictures.

Filed Under: Family, Family travel, Humor, outdoors, travel

To Utah…and Beyond!

August 12, 2008 by Amber

I have officially overdosed on travel. Well, at least until the next trip (which fortunately for me is at least five days away).

Truth be told, I was tired of traveling after my back-to-back Canada and San Francisco fiascoes, only to have to hop in the car a week later and take a huge chunk out of the Western United States.

So, how was it? Exhausting and fun, with an emphasis on the former. And how did the children do after 35+ hours in the car? Amazingly well. Rest assured, the majority of tantrums were thrown by me.

Leg 1 of the trip was a stop in Utah a few days early with the kids and my MIL. I have not been back to Salt Lake City for a few years and I was overwhelmed with love for this great city and my many wonderful memories.

The itinerary? Played in Seven Canyons Fountain with Lori and Co.

Solo hiked Albian Basin at dawn, hung out at Snowbird’s Cliff Spa with former roommmate Kristy (a.k.a. She Who Inspired Me to Start a Blog) and took in the resort’s Rock and Blues Festival.

Admired the crimson sunsets over the Great Salt Lake every night.

Splashed around in Parley’s Creek at Sugar House Park, my old haunting ground.

And last but certainly not least: gorged on The Dodo’s turkey sandwich with secret BBQ sauce (I am a recovering addict) and Cafe Rio’s chicken taco salad. Is The Love of a Salad a good enough reason to move back? Because if it is, I am there.

We stayed with Jamie’s uncle who is the publisher of the city’s newspaper. He and his wife were gracious hosts but picking up after my freeloadin’ children in their museum-of-a-mansion was more upkeep than I am used to in a ~~day~~ year.

But something was unsettling to me. I knew their rug was strangely familiar.

And I just couldn’t place where I had seen something similar….

Until I arrived home.

Join me next time for To Yellowstone…and Beyond and additional confirmation that I am a true blonde.

Filed Under: Family, Family travel, Humor, travel

When you are not instintively maternal

August 4, 2008 by Amber

I have a good friend at boot camp, Linette. She is in her late-30s and is funny, sweet and successful. She also chose not to have children.

Now, for some women this is not puzzling to me because they are just not “kid people.” But Linette is a Court Appointed Special Advocate (CASA) and selflessly helps children in need.

I finally asked her about it one day and she responded, “Even though I love kids, I just never felt that maternal instinct to have my own and I thought that was an important part of the process.”

I could relate. Ten years ago, having children was the last thing on my mind. And being Mormon where most women seem to be born breeders, I was an anomaly. I wanted a career. I wanted to travel. I did not want to be tied down. I find it ironic that the thing I spent the entirety of my 20s running away from is that which has brought me the most joy in my 30s.

But I have never been that woman to coo and paw over other people’s babies. Newborns in particular freaked me out and I have always felt more comfortable with older children. When Hurricane Hadley was born, Jamie and I anxiously gazed at her and simultaneously queried, “What now?” To make matters worse, she was a tough, colicky baby and though I loved her, I never really felt bonded to her for the longest time.

Jamie and I felt strongly we are supposed to have three children so when it came time to get pregnant, I did it without much enthusiasm (as opposed to Jamie who has always been gung-ho over the baby-making process. 🙂 The next 40 weeks were filled with some excitement yet mostly apprehension that I would give birth to another Hurricane who would level me as Hadley had.

But the moment Bode was born and they placed him in my arms, I felt it. That moment so many mothers talk about – when they instantly fall in love with their new baby and feel that bond. I remember thinking, “So this is what it is all about.”

We are on the precipice of getting pregnant again. Last week at church, I grabbed someone’s infant to play with him – something I rarely do. And as I gazed down at that slobbering face, those burgeoning cheeks and sumo arms, I felt it: that maternal instinct. For the first time, I felt absolutely overwhelmed that I wanted a final child.

As Jamie and I snuggled in bed that night, I relayed my experience to him.

“Well, congratulations Amber. It sounds like your maternal instinct is finally kicking in.”

“Yeah, and it only me took four years and two kids to get it!”

Filed Under: Family, issues

Sanford & Son (& Daughter) Do White Trash!

April 21, 2008 by Amber

Every neighborhood has ‘em.

You know: the one white-trash family that just oozes with socially unacceptable behavior such as loud music, big engines, cold beer and jacked-up trucks.

I just didn’t know “they” were “us.”

It all started out innocently when I took the kids for an early-morning run at this time last year. Since the temperatures were still brisk, I opted against getting them dressed and kept them bundled up in their fleece PJs.

Now, something you should know about me is that even though I’m lucky if I get a brush through my hair, I am pretty anal about ensuring my kids are properly groomed. But I figured this was a worthy exception to get an early start to the day. You know. To beat those sweltering 60-degree temperatures that would soon descend upon us.

Something else you should also know is that it was garbage day, certainly not the best of times to be running due to the surrounding stench. I was the last 1/4-mile into my run up the big stinky hill to our house when I spotted It: that which led my great downfall to white trashdom (and coincidentally, it was white…and trash). Someone had left a wicker chest out by their garbage.

I stopped. It would be perfect in our basement for my children’s toys. I investigated. It was in great shape, too. Or at least it was before my attempts to transport it.

There was a problem, though. It was really big, which made our progress really slow. Oh yeah, and did I mention the hill? My little charges were patient in the beginning but after about 15 minutes of dragging it, fussiness ensued. I decided I needed another plan. I could take the kids out of the jogging stroller, put the trunk inside and let them walk. Well, at least the big one. My main concern was that Hadley was still in her pajamas and what would the neighbors think?

I did it anyway.

And so there we were on our leisurely Monday Morning Dumpster Diving Stroll around the neighborhood. Haddie in her soiled PJs, Bode with his frumpy hair.

Then Haddie started limping. “I have cereal at the bottom of my PJs,” she whined.

I looked down and sure enough she had lumpy feet. But at this point, the only way to get the cereal out of her one-piece pajamas would have involved stripping her down completely. And if PJs by Day were white trash, having her wander down the street with her sagging pull-up diaper was veritable trailer status. And at that, I drew the line.

“I have an idea! Just stomp really hard and it will turn your cereal into little crumbs. And then we’ll just follow them home like Hansel and Gretel!” I have always been a master of resolution.

She looked dubiously at me, made a meager attempt and then limped the rest of the way. It was memorable to say the least but we survived and the kids acquired a new toy box. A new toy box that I have never used and has remained hidden underneath a pile of junk in our garage.

Would I do it again? Sure. Only next time, I’ll just need to remember to bring my shopping cart along….

Filed Under: Bode, Family, Favorite Posts, Hadley, Humor

Confessions of a Ski School Dropout at SolVista Basin

February 4, 2008 by Amber

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….

Filed Under: Family, Family travel, Hadley, Humor, outdoors, skiing, travel

Get Found, Kid

November 10, 2007 by Amber

Years ago, I read an article by Robert Fulghum in The Reader’s Digest that I have never forgotten. Now I know why.

He spoke of a neighborhood hide-and-seek game. As children scattered, he noted there was always that one kid who hid so well, nobody could find him. After a while they would give up on him and leave him to rot wherever he was.

Sooner or later he would show up, all mad because they didn’t keep looking for him. In turn, the “seekers”would get mad back because he wasn’t playing the game the way it was supposed to be played. There’s hiding and there’s finding. But sure enough the next time around, he would hide too well again.

As Fulghum reflected upon his childhood merriment, he spotted a kid hiding under a pile of leaves. He walked over and shouted, “GET FOUND, KID,” scaring the life out of him and probably sending him home for shock treatment.

My mom was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis 25 years ago. She was that person: a successful business owner whose domestic prowess was renowned throughout the city. She was the life of the party, the one even my friends came to visit.

The disease crept in slowly like a predator stalking its prey. We could never talk about it. We lived for years with a monster hiding under the covers. Maybe if it was just not discussed, it would go away.

It never did.

A grown-up game of hide-and-seek. Wounded and hiding. Prideful and worried about being pitied. Desperately wanting to be found. But all play and suffering were done alone.

There were times she just wanted to die. And I wanted her to die. Not because I could bear the thought of losing her but because when you see someone you love suffer so much you want the ultimate healing – even if that means death.

Today, she is the shell of the woman she once was. Time is slowing eroding her battle. She has good and bad days but I feel grateful she held out. That my husband and children have come to know even a small piece of my incredible mother.

I just wish she would let us in.

Forget hide-and-seek. Fulghum asserted that we should be sardine players. If you are it, you are the one who hides and everyone comes looking for you. When you are found, everyone piles in. Before long, someone usually giggles and your cover is blown – together.

Life as a game of sardines.

Ready or not, here I come….

Filed Under: Family, Health, issues

Tasting Colorado

September 2, 2007 by Amber

Happy Labor Day weekend!

Or at least it will be after I have thrown my final party for the ward tomorrow: a Labor Day breakfast. Yes, friends. The heavens didst shine upon me yesterday and I have been released as the Party Princess Extraordinaire. I will now be playing the piano for the Primary a.k.a. Youngins, which I will gladly do so long as it does not involve eggs. Of any variety.

On Saturday, we attended a huge party in downtown Denver: A Taste of Colorado. We toured around the hundreds of overpriced booths, gorged ourselves in sub-par BBQ, danced on the tables and got the children sauced.

We also had a grand ol’ time rocking out to a live band, Night Ranger. I couldn’t tell you even one hit song they had back in the 80s but Jamie seemed determined to relive his youth. I indulged him by enthusiastically nodding every time he exclaimed, “They’re tight, they’re still tight after all these years.”

This is Jamie’s way of thinking he sounds like some cool music aficionado.

I debated showing my support by throwing my bra onstage but I just didn’t think my nursing bra I should have retired ages ago would have done the trick. Then again, has-beens breed has-beens.

Bubby got into it by inventing moves we didn’t know he had. Moves that entailed the flailing of just one arm. I called it The I’m Drowning to the Beat of the Music dance.

We kept vowing to leave unless we heard a song we actually recognized. It didn’t happen and so when there was a delay between sets we started walking out. But then they started playing again.

“Hey wait, Jamie. I recognize this song!”

“That’s became they just played it.”

Apparently the kids weren’t the only ones.

Filed Under: Bode, Colorado, Family, Hadley, Humor

BlogHer Colorado!

August 19, 2007 by Amber

Since returning from vacation, I have had a dose of reality. Actually, I have ODed on it with planning our ward’s Labor Day breakfast and my latest assignment–volleyball coach–which will eat up the next couple of months of my life. Oh, and did I mention Mile High Mamas is launching next month?

My friend also recruited me to help write the script for our upcoming roadshow. If you don’t have a clue what I am talking about, just combine Mormons and Broadway. Only the acting and singing suck. Oh, and we can’t do anything fun naughty onstage.

And did I mention my folks arrived yesterday from the Motherland after giving me only two days advanced notice? Retirement does funny things to people along the lines of being unable to commit even after your daughter badgers you for a month to set a date. Lucky for them they had the misfortune privilege of raising me so I’m indebted to them for, welp, eternity.

On Friday, I had a fun blogging lunch at The Cheesecake Factory with (from left) Annie of Anniethology, Aubrey of Anniepall, Me, Michelle of Carrot Jello (intentionally hiding), Melissa The Smiling Infidel (intentionally hiding her), Angel of Sodak Angel and Claudia of No Cool Story (she who wishes to remain anonymous).

Aubrey, Angel and I hung out together while we waited for Annie to pickup the others from the airport. And waited and waited. First, there was delayed luggage and then there was their detour and subsequent disorientation through downtown Denver. Not to be forgotten is when one directionally-challenged airhead (me) attempted to guide another (Annie) over the phone.

They were an hour and a half late.

This span of time was just enough for sweet Aubrey, spunky Angel and I to have an in-depth discussion about bikini waxes and boob jobs. And those are only topics I can discuss.

When the others arrived, it was like a high school reunion. Only I actually liked these people.

I sat across from Carrot and Melissa who delighted me as they creatively chewed their food in front of the mirror behind my head. They had me chuckling with their quick wit and jovial personalities. And superb mastication skills.

Claudia sat on the opposite end of the table and we shouted pleasantries back and forth. I have been a fan of Claudia’s since she designed these stellar buttons around the same time the awards craze was hitting. It then came time for the gift exchange. The funny thing was I did not receive the memo that it is blogging etiquette to butter up your new friends. Carrot bought us each huge pens, Elastic had personalized bubble pen necklaces and some cute gifts for Haddie. Claudia brought some tasty jam and chocolate while Angel made each of us personalized plaques. Mine said: ” Crazy is a relative term in my family.”

Who knew?

Evidently everyone on the Internet.

Filed Under: Family, Humor

Love and Lessons in Mexico

August 15, 2007 by Amber

We have returned from our Mexican vacation! All the Amber “Murphy” elements were potentially there: 60% chance of rain everyday, long flights and two small children in the same hotel room. Oh yeah, and the probability of getting sick, which is what I do on every stinkin’ vacation.

But shockingly, the entire trip went smoothly. We had only one brief brush with rain, the kids were fantastic in flight and were even better sleepers at night. It was pretty darn idyllic. Well, notwithstanding the stye that blossomed in my eye and that one ‘lil night when I almost didn’t make it to the bathroom in time, both minor on the Amber Richter Scale of Catastrophes.

We stayed at El Cid Castillo Beach Hotel in Mazatlan. After slugging through the heat and humidity, we were greeted with a fantastic corner room at garden level with quick access to both the pool and beach.

Stellar views aside, the highlight of the room was that blessed, blessed blast of frigid air when we entered. I squealed with delight but watched with dismay as the children’s little fingers quickly formed icicles. Now, there are times in a parent’s life when the best interest of their children is of the utmost importance.

This was not one of those times.

And so I did what any heat-challenged mother would do: I kept that air ‘a blasting, bundled up their little ice cube hands and made a mental note to bring their snowsuits next time.

They are just now dethawing.

Our sole purpose of this trip was to expose the kids to the water. Unlike our usual adventure-travel itinerary, we did not attempt any excursions. We just ate, swam and slept. And then ate some more.

Even in my sand-repugnant state, I envisioned burying Jamie in it, building sand castles and searching for sea shells. All of this would have happened had it not been for The Pool–touted as the largest in Mexico. The same hallowed structure that, with its waterfalls, waterslides and caves, became The Hurricane’s obsession. Any mention of the beach brought about tedious tantrums; not so much because it was the beach but because IT WAS NOT THE POOL.

In her defense, she learned how to swim in that pool and could go for several yards underwater. I should know. She yelled at me to watch her a minimum of 3,602 times.

While Bubby loved the water, he enjoyed being the Don Juan de Mexico even more. It was rare for us to pass even one Senorita who did not coo and paw at him. He would always recoil in shyness and clutch me tightly, which would endear him to his admirers even more. They would approach him, smash their bosoms into his face and a devious little smile would finally emerge. The kid had a system.

So did I, only mine involved tapping into my airheaded Polish roots (which, incidentally are naturally blond so I really don’t stand a chance in this life). When packing to go home, I painstakingly ziplocked all our liquids and carefully placed them in our main luggage. And then took our Mexican vanilla gifts and absentmindedly placed them between a stack of diapers…in our carry-on.

I just hope the mean men in Dallas’ airport security are baking nice cakes right now.

And then there was The Camera. I won’t expound upon the amount of digital cameras I have destroyed this year. Nor how at the last minute we had to take one with film, something I haven’t used in seven years. This would explain why I foolishly opened the #$#* camera before it had rewound. Rumor has it that film does not like to be opened prematurely and rebels worse than a toddler on the beach.

But airport security and film aside, the most important thing I learned was this:

If you don’t like sand in your bed, don’t go to bed sandy.

Don’t say you haven’t been warned by this blond Pollack-Canadian airhead….

Filed Under: Bode, Family, Family travel, Hadley, Humor