Humor | Life Elevated Mom

Reader Beware: Painful Potty Trainathon in Progress

July 25, 2007 by Amber

We are in the ~~throes~~ woes of potty training the Hurricane. One would question our timing with Jamie’s recent business trip to Kansas on Monday and mine to Chicago tomorrow. But with Mexico and preschool next month, we knew we had to make a move. Again.

As many of you know, this is not our first attempt. In fact, she was almost trained about five months ago until she woke up one day and announced she was retiring from the potty business. She assured me there was surely a better way to spend her time than wasting it on the porcelain throne (with a major emphasis on waste).

And she has not used it ever since. No amount of rewards, pressure or bribery have worked so I am in need of ideas. Fast. Many people have consoled me that she just turned three and “to just give it time.”

It is time. Supernanny time. [Cue music and the sound of weeping parents.]

Jamie and I were lying in bed flipping through the channels on his new HDTV a few weeks ago (a battle I clearly lost) when we came across that British vixen. Her latest conquest was a family in Hawaii who had a 3-year-old boy. Cute little Nathan enjoyed locking his brother in the stove, causing chaos at bedtime and defecating his diaper. Cute little Nathan needed a makeover.

Supernanny started by completely ditching the diapers except for at bedtime and presented him with full-time underwear. Cold turkey. And shockingly, Nathan rose to the occasion.

We perked up. If this little delinquent could do it, so could our bright Haddie. Err…right?

Wrooooooong! We are one week into full-time Dora panties and Hadley still will not go unless we ~~encourage coax~~ harass her. She has also peed everywhere except for the potty.

And then there is poop. The girl has yet to do it anywhere except for her underwear or diaper. In fact, it has become a game for her to see how long she can hold out. She gets this ability from me. Some of you may remember when, on a backpacking trip, my friend Dave christened me The Camel of the Pee World for my ability to hold out for an incredibly long time.

That was before I had children. I now live in The Pee Like a Racehorse World.

The other night just before bed, we changed Hadley into a diaper and within moments she pooped. Triumphantly, she squealed over her “victory” and gave us a look that said, “I WON BY HOLDING IT IN ALL DAY, YOU UNGRATEFUL PARENTS WHO NO LONGER WANT TO WIPE MY BUTT.”

Rest assured, this will be the inscription on her tombstone:

I should know. Because if this keeps up, we’ll probably be the ones who send her there.

Filed Under: Hadley, Humor, issues

Birthday Boy

July 23, 2007 by Amber

Bode’s first birthday was a smashing success, mostly because for once in my life I kept it stress-free. Go figure. I never even knew this kind of world existed.

In the morning, we hit the local pool. The kids are in the midst of two straight weeks of swim lessons in the great outdoors. I am more shocked than anyone that this has been one of the highlights of my summer. Me. Water. Sun. Enjoyment? Go figure again.

Hadley has overcome her aversion to getting her face wet, one of the many stellar attributes she has inherited from me (your welcome, Sweetie). Bode is a veritable fish and loves to be dunked, though he can’t grasp the minor detail of closing his mouth. Or maybe chlorine is just his beverage de choix.

I miraculously timed their lessons to coincide with some of Denver’s most sweltering temperatures. And this Canuck has subsequently not complained even once about the heat. I know, the biggest shocker of all.

We then had a little pool party luncheon at our place with some neighborhood friends and that night, Jamie’s family came over for a BBQ.

Bode did splendidly in the demented ritual of inhaling his cake. He hesitated for a moment before diving in, relishing the feeling of cool icing slithering through his fingers. He took the occasional bite but then did something that shocked us all. Something we are still trying to figure out who taught him this.

I believe it is called the ritual of sharing food.

Or rather, smashing it.

Oh, and of course there were presents that included a Learning Home, clothes, pirate ship, Spiderman doll and a dump truck. This photo was taken after Jamie socked Bode in the head with his present.

I guess I shouldn’t talk. I failed to mention that during our little pool party, I turned on the new pool’s sprinkler with Bode sitting adjacent. I thought a light trickle would ooze out.

I was wrong.

Think Enema of the Face.

Happy Birthday, Son.

Filed Under: Bode, Humor

Why Bart and Home are NOT on PBS Kid’s Club

July 22, 2007 by Amber

Upon returning home from an afternoon with Grandma, I was eager to spend time with Hadley. Unfortunately, Jamie had other ideas. Y’see, before we were married, he was addicted to a little show the nation loves called The Simpson’s. I am not among the populace of adoring fans and make myself scarce whenever he watches it on occasion.

So when Haddie walked in the door, Jamie was glued to Bart and Homer. She barely took one look at me as she rushed past my adoring arms and plopped herself down on her Spongebob couch to watch with Jamie. Before long, that same glazed expression that overcomes her father when he watches The History Channel came onto her face.

“No, no, no!” I objected. “It’s bad enough YOU have to watch it but to expose our innocent child to this spawn-of-the-devil show?”

“Honey,” Jamie reasoned. “Studies have shown that children can actually learn more by watching The Simpson’s than Barney. Of course, the backlash of this study is the things they subsequently learned are morally wrong.”

Filed Under: Humor, Jamie

BlogHer or Bust!

July 20, 2007 by Amber

As many of you know, I will be attending BlogHer in Chicago next week. This will be my first time without Hunky Hubby and the children. Be prepared for my personal edition of Mommy Blogger Gone Wild. If I can manage to stay up past 9:30 p.m., that is.

The lovely Mocha Momma is sponsoring a getting-to-know-you in 10 seconds or less for attendees. Little does she know of my talent in this area. Once upon a time, I gave a talk in church that ran oh, say 20 minutes over. I was so hassled and teased that the next time I spoke, I clocked myself at a clean 5 minutes. Someone came up to me afterwards and shaking her head, said, “Congratulations. You just crammed a 30-minute talk into 5 minutes.

Talent, people. Talent

And so me, in 10 seconds or less:

Bred and born in Calgary, Canada. Went to college in the U.S., and was the queen of study abroads. First semester: Natural Science Field Expedition where we backpacked all around the country. Final semester: the Middle East. No backpacking involved for fear of getting blown up by terrorists.

And I wondered why it only took me five and a half years to finish my degree in broadcast journalism.

Worked for a number of years as a travel writer and as a publicist and radio personality for Utah’s ski and outdoor industry. Know how to say “skiing is cool” in 100 different ways.

Moved to Denver and married the love of my life in 2003. Have two great kids whom we drag on our many biking and hiking expeditions.

Will be launching Mile High Mamas for The Denver Post at the end of August. Life goals are to someday rule the world and to get more than six hours of sleep doing it.

Filed Under: Humor Tagged With: BlogHer

Happy Birthday, Bubby!

July 18, 2007 by Amber

Dearest Bode,

From the moment you were born, you have held a special place in my heart. I don’t know if it is because we are both second children or that you are a joyful, sweet and cuddly little guy who has your father’s good-natured personality whilst your spitfire sister has mine. Pray for her, Bode.

Unlike your gregarious sister, you are shy and cautious but you light up whenever Mommy enters the room and when you play with balls. Your first and only word is “Mama.” Actually, it is more along the lines of “MAMAMAMAMAMAMA.”

Mommy is still trying to teach you to stop at two syllables because by the 10th repetition, it constitutes whining. And no one likes a Mama’s Boy. Welp, except for Mama.

Your obsession and aptitude for throwing balls began at seven months when you came to life as Daddy tossed that first piece of synthetic leather your way. Instinctively, you clutched it lovingly and with an arm befitting of Joe Montana, you chucked it back. Hard. Your father’s eyes lit up with do$$ar signs because his 401K is kind of lacking and he has great hopes you will someday support us through professional sports.

For the first few months of your life, we doubted you had eyes because all you did was sleep. But then remember when you were three months old and decided for the next five months you should pull back-to-back all-nighters? That sure was fun. I strongly suspect your insomniac sister had something to do with it. I am sure she will make the same case for promoting general toddler deviance when you get a bit older.

You are in the 50th percentile for height and weight and are right on target with your development. You sat up at five months, waved at seven, crawled at eight and walked at ten. During your six-month checkup with the pediatrician, she looked into your little ears and after struggling for several minutes she announced you had the hairiest ears she had ever seen. Imagine that! Being at the top of the charts for ear hair growth! I could not have been more proud.

When you were in my womb, there was something sharp that frequently jabbed me. I thought it was a foot but I was mistaken. You see, my dear son, some children are born with a silver spoon but you were born with a remote control in hand. I have never seen a person (besides your father) light up from the moment that power button is pressed.

One of my favorite TV memories of you is when we first put you in your walker. Your wobbly legs were sluggish until one day you were in the kitchen and I turned on Dora the Explorer in the next room. A light bulb turned on and son, you sprinted to that television. It was a modern-day miracle. I attribute Dora to helping you learn to walk so soon. That, and trying to keep up with/run away from your sister.

Until recently, my favorite memory of you was when you, Daddy and I stayed at the Ritz Carlton and we hung out together at Half Moon Bay. But that experience has been trumped.

Just last week, sweet Haddie spent the day at Grandma’s so you and I hit the trail. You obediently fell asleep a few minutes into the hike and awoke just before we summited. I took you out of the pack and we snuggled and snacked. For the first time, you figured out how to drink from the tube on Mommy’s CamelBak. And so there we sat: laughing, playing in the dirt, swapping spit and grunting.

It could not have been better if I had been a guy. Thank you for being my little one.

Love,

MAMAMAMAMAMAMA

Filed Under: Bode, Family travel, Humor, outdoors

High on a Mountain Top Part II

July 17, 2007 by Amber

Just tuning in? Be sure to first read High On a Mountain Top Part I that details one of my best days ever in the mountains.

When waxing ambitious with something that is physically challenging, it is best to confirm the facts. I.e. Is the bike ride from Frisco to Breckenridge really 20 miles? Just how steep is it? What did those kids eat for dinner that made them each add 10 pounds to the load?

We did not do our homework, nor did we put Haddie and Bode on a crash diet. To be honest, I was not worried because for once, I was thrilled to not be the one hauling them in the bike trailer (loving, empathetic wife that I am).

Something we did not calculate into our ride was the distance from the condo to the trailhead: a meager 2 miles. Now, 2 miles X 2 (round-trip) may not seem like a big deal. But tack those 4 miles onto 20 miles and guess what?

It is.

To be honest, I had an easy time on the moderate ascent. But when pulling that 65-pound trailer, no terrain is moderate. Poor Jamie toughed it out but by the time we arrived in Breckenridge 1.5 hours later, his knees were writhing in pain.

We dumped the bikes and strolled around Breck, playing with the kids at Riverside Park and coveting the sweet gourmet aromas of surrounding restaurants. We ultimately grabbed some food from a little deli and settled down beside the Blue River, listening to the sweet melodies of the Colorado Symphony as they practiced in the adjacent tent. With the fresh air, bubbling waters and the granite cliffs that stood sentry over us, everything just seemed right.

Until our descent.

Now, by the very connotation of the word, one would think this would be an effortless process of simply coasting down the mountainside with the wind at our backs. The problem was, there was wind but it was at our backs, our fronts, our sides, everywhere, turning that 65-pound trailer into a veritable parachute.

Again, I was rather unaffected but I took one look at Jamie after a few miles and knew he had reached his limit.

“Do you need to switch?”

“Yeah,” he said, wincing in pain.

“No problem, I feel strong!”

Famous last words, ones will probably be on my tombstone.

Jamie did not want the cumbersome task of switching the trailer over to my bike so presented me with his. Now, I don’t know if you have ever seen the height difference between the two of us but the man has about nine inches on me. And he had conveniently forgotten his tools to lower the seat.

I won’t expound upon the visual of me teetering on my tiptoes as I hyper-extended my legs, nearly canning myself on the frame with every rotation. Oh wait. I guess I just did. After about 15 minutes of this, my legs (and other undisclosed body parts) were in pain. I announced we had to switch the trailer so I could pull it on my bike. Fine.

Problem was I made the annunciation at the base of a monster hill, just the kind of place where you would want to gain some momentum prior to tackling it. If you were lacking in ambition, that is.

The kids and I set out on the climb cold turkey. Within a few minutes, Jamie’s knees gave out and he resorted to walking his bike up the hill. He was several yards ahead as my little engine slooooowly chugged along. I joked that he would probably still beat me.

He did.

And it did not get better. Bottom line, we survived but won’t be tackling 24-mile trips with the kids ~~anytime soon~~ in this lifetime.

Unless, that is, I feel strong. And you know where that mantra will get me.

P.S. Happy 40th Birthday birthday to my friend Tina! Oh, and that tombstone? No correlation whatsoever….
XOXXOX
-CBC

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

Bloggy Hoss Biker Babe

July 12, 2007 by Amber

As if our ridiculous goal to scale Mt. Elbert wasn’t enough, Jamie and I are going to make our second attempt at biking a gorgeous 20-mile trail through the mountains near Breckenridge with kids in tow this weekend.

The first time we tried, we barely made it to the trailhead after a series of mishaps including when my bike repeatedly fell off the very expensive Yakima rack on my Jeep and I ended up clutching the stupid bike during the whole drive. For clarification, I did this whilst in the passenger’s seat, not on top of the rack (though I’m sure the thought did cross Jamie’s mind).

Once we arrived, we could not get Jamie’s bike off the stupid rack (you know: the same rack we couldn’t get the other bike to stay on). Moody and irascible, we loaded Hadley up in the Chariot trailer and forced ourselves to hit the trail. We went down the large slope, relishing in the simplicity, the ease, the freedom of flight, and thinking it was all so worth it.

And also not realizing there was a 30-mile-per-hour tail wind.

We turned around about halfway due to some threatening storm clouds. My ascent was fairly easy. After all, I was not hauling the 40-pound bike trailer. Jamie grunted and sweated the traverse and I realized for the first time in my life, I WAS BEATING HIM. And all he needed was a 40-pound handicap.

And then it started raining.

I won’t go into the sordid details but just know that it has been two years since we have even touched our bikes. Of course, a little thing called pregnancy, having Bode and then not wanting to sit on That-Place-Where-I-Had-Just-Birthed-A-Watermelon also had something to do with it.

We finally dusted off our bikes and got them tuned up a couple of months ago for a whopping $120 (the going rate in the rip-off-that-is Denver). For our first outing, we hooked up the Chariot and loaded the children.

I was the lucky party who hauled them this time; about 60 pounds is my best calculation. We cruised around the neighborhood and down to a beautifully preserved open space park as expressive clouds followed our every move. With the wind billowing at my back, I breathed with a clarity of spirit I have not known for months and squealed to Jamie,

“This feels incredible to be back on the bike. That Chariot is so amazingly smooth that I can barely feel that I am pulling the kids!”

But then I went uphill.

And felt every single one of those 60 pounds. Plus, the extra post-pregnancy 20 I’m still hauling around. I needed encouragement.

“Help Mommy go up this hill! Cheer for me, Haddie!”

“Daddy is going faster. You are going slow!”

A simple “Go Mommy” would have worked just dandy.

I miraculously made it up the hill without dismounting while Jamie circled around me like a smug piranha. Yeah, he remembered the pain-that-was-Breckenridge. And in a few short hours, so it begins. Again.

P.S. Stop the mom blog presses! I just found out I won “Most Athletic” in the Bloggy Hoss Elections. Thank you for all who voted for me. And did I say I crawled up that hill on the bike? I meant to say cruised. Really….

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

Wordless Wednesday–On Being Model Neighbors

July 10, 2007 by Amber

Generous souls that we are, we recently threw a party for our neighbor because he is fortunate enough to share his birthday with that of The Motherland. We also got him a gift: a wheelbarrow that we even tried to wrap!

Never mind that we borrowed it from him sometime last year….

Filed Under: Humor

Double Dating, Crazy Canuck Style

July 10, 2007 by Amber

On Saturday, I had the brilliant idea to invite our neighbors to bike down to a chic little bistro that just opened up in Olde Town. We loaded up the kids in their respective bike trailers and followed our local river trail to the restaurant.

Dinner was lovely. Well, only if you consider having absolutely no kid food and portions the size of Bode’s fist. Call me crazy but if I am going to drop $40, I want to come out feeling like I just had some semblance of a meal.

As we juggled the kids during dinner, we were dismayed to see dark clouds creeping in. By the time we loaded everyone up, there was a veritable storm brewing. A storm with a strong tail wind, thunder, and lightning that jolted the sky right above our heads. And somehow Meredith and I were the lucky ones who were hauling the kids.

The husbands were smart enough to stay with us knowing that taking off would be far worse than any bolt of lightning. Though I could have dealt without Master Electrician Andy’s words of advice:

“Whatever you do, do not touch anything that is metal.”

I looked down at the metal bar-ends attached to my handlebars. You know: the ones that I was clinging to for dear life. Oh yeah, not to mention my metal bike frame.”

“Gee, thanks for the pep talk, Andy.

We made it home just as the rain started to dump, with no major repercussions. Though I must say that Jamie’s hair was looking rather suspect….

Filed Under: Colorado, Family, Humor, outdoors

Mt. Elbert or Bust Busted on Mt. Elbert

July 3, 2007 by Amber

I am proud to say we bagged Mt. Elbert–Colorado’s highest peak and the second highest in the lower 48. I enjoy saying that because it sounds impressive. Not so impressive is my next confessional: I have hiked much steeper and more difficult mountains than Elbert.

Don’t get me wrong: scaling 4,700 vertical feet was no stroll in the park but I was pleasantly surprised this mountain did not send me to my grave. Well, at least not completely (though admittedly one foot did make its entrance).

Prior to setting out on our trek, we realized Jamie had misplaced two key items: the map and an altimeter. We managed to fudge our way without the former but were hatin’ it without the latter. You see, ascertaining your elevation with an altimeter helps you avoid something agonizing called false summits: thinking you reached the top, only to find the real summit taunting you in the distance.

For further clarification: Baby keeps you up for first six months of her life. Finally sleeps through the night. Parent thinks HOLY CRAP, BABY SLEPT THROUGH THE NIGHT. I HAVE ARRIVED! Next night: Baby wakes up every hour. False summit.

Feel my pain?

When climbing 14,000-foot peaks (14ers) it is critical to be off the summit by noon due to dangerous weather patterns that blow through the Rocky Mountains. We stayed at a nearby B&B and were on the trail at the crack of dawn. It did not take long for the pitch to become fevered. Jamie and I have very different hiking styles. He is more of a sprint-and-stop kind of guy while I am slow and steady.

Despite the commanding views at the top, I am not partial to 14ers for their beauty. Part of the reason is you are doing the brunt of the climb above treeline. And call me crazy but there is little innate beauty about rocks, particularly when that is all you see for hours on end.

But this hike was different. We ascended through whispering aspen groves, boreal forests, glacier-scoured valleys nestled between craggy peaks and through profusions of wildflowers in full bloom. In the distance, the silence was punctured by the howl of coyotes and the call of an elk. Oh, and the cussing of a Canuck. Did I mention just how steep it was?

We kept pace with one another until about 1/2-mile from the top when Jamie got summit fever and picked up his pace from a slow crawl to only a semi-slow one.

“What are you doing?”
“Summit Fever, Amber. Summit Fever.”

And then I gave him that look. You know, that one that says you had better slow down right now if you want to create our final child and also spend the rest of our lives practicing. That look.

He stopped in his tracks.

I am proud to be a role model for supporting a husband’s aspirations and dreams.

Reaching the summit is like an elite club of folks whose altitude sickness has made them forget the misery of the climb. And that is what keeps them coming back again and again. The group is always eclectic, always friendly, and always has a story. Like this young buck who set the goal to juggle atop all of Colorado’s 14ers.

Huh?

I felt strong the first few miles of the descent but the intensity of the hike kicked in the last 1.5 miles and our knees screamed out in protest.
Jamie’s knee was still bothering him when we arrived home so I graciously unloaded his luggage. And you’ll never guess what I discovered.

“Hey Jamie. I just found the maps.”
“Oh, where?”
“In your backpack.”
“Oh yeah. I put them in there so I wouldn’t forget them on the climb.”

Filed Under: Colorado, hiking, Humor, outdoors Tagged With: 14er, hiking