Breckenridge or Bust Part I

This will be one of my memorable two-part series. One might assume it is due to the length and the inordinate amount of pictures, which would be true. But the real reason is I accidentally deleted the rest of the #$&#*& post and will have to rewrite it tomorrow.

Our weekend in Breckenridge was whimsical, relaxing and fun. The cabin Jamie rented was absolutely gorgeous and cost us the equivalent of a trip to Hawaii. Well, without the airfare.

We lazed around all Friday afternoon gazing out the vaulted windows at the Ten Mile Range. He later cooked me a gourmet meal and we indulged in Crepes a la Cart in Breck for dessert. Oh, and did I mention it was a pumpkin crepe? Evidently, I have issues.

The next morning, we snuggled in bed watching a movie. This was not just any movie. This was the movie of my youth – Stealing Home starring Jodie Foster and Mark Harmon. Never heard of it? Nobody has so I was shocked/thrilled when I discovered it in the cabin’s collection.

It took me back to when my three best friends and I repeatedly watched it in high school, falling deeper and deeper in love with William McNamara (one of the stars) every time. And how Rachel, the evil wench, sent away for an autographed picture of Billy Boy. She then proceeded to frame and lust over it on her bed stand while I had to slog through life with my woosy Ralph Macchio poster.

When we eventually detached ourselves from the cabin and Billy Boy (just don’t tell Jamie), we hiked Baker Tank Trail in the snow and 4X4ed Boreas Pass. It was such a throwback to my former life except the views are that much more rewarding when trailing my hubby from behind. 🙂

Day two, Jamie’s family arrived with the kids. I had painstakingly packed The Kitchen Sink for them. Unfortunately, Grandma only brought the drain because she somehow forgot all their winter clothes.

Because why would we need boots in a winter wonderland

Oh, and did I mention it snowed 10 inches Saturday night?

To be continued tomorrow….

A Sneak Peak at Our Revolutionary Best-Selling Parenting Book

I never fancied myself to be a ballerina, which is particularly ironic since I’m walking on my tiptoes a lot these days. And also on egg shells.

My daughter Hurricane Hadley has become a tyrant. When I offer suggestions for a snack, I brace myself for the unleashing of how dare I even suggest something so unthinkable as apples. When I pretend to turn her into a princess with my magic wand, I am sent to the dungeons because I held the wand at the wrong angle. Anything sets her off, which makes me wonder if she has some kind of chemical imbalance.

Or if it’s the fact that she’s turning three years old this month.

I had heard from some that the 3s were worse than the 2s. Doubting Thomas that I am, I didn’t buy in. And now here I am: sold out.

We recently had a good day with what I would consider to be a reasonable amount of T.O.N. (Tantrums Over Nothing). We were sitting on our leather sofa watching out the window for my husband Jamie to come home. I looked down at how precious she was being and decided she needed some positive reinforcement.

“You know, Mommy is so happy with how sweet you’ve been today. Thank you for being so nice to your brother Bode and me.”

Within seconds, seconds people, she started acting up and it did not stop the rest of the night.

As we were eating dinner, she miraculously downed most of the curry chicken phyllos I made and I decided again: positive reinforcement.

“Haddie, what a great eater you’re being tonight!”

Within milliseconds, milliseconds people, she choked out her food and spewed it all over the floor. Jamie looked at me dubiously.

“Hey Amber. Here’s a new parenting strategy for you. How about ditch this positive reinforcement crap and STOP WITH THE COMPLIMENTS.”

We’ll begin our book tour next month.

A Love Letter to the Rockies

Our romantic getaway weekend was fantastic and I will provide the details and pictures (well, most of them anyway 🙂 on my next post.

For now, it’s Rockies Central ’round here. If you are not in “the know,” the Colorado Rockies have made history and are in the World Series for the first time. They play the Red Sox on Wednesday and the earth will allegedly stop turning on its axis that night. At least this is what I am told.

Even though I’m not much of a baseball fan, I have been caught up in the excitement and would love for them to win. However, my life will not ever be put on hold for any sport. Well, except for if Nekkid Bowling ever graces the airwaves.

I clearly state my case today at Mile High Mamas. So sports lovers or haters, come visit and see why I will surely become the most hated woman in Colorado.

Hear me roar:

This letter is actually on behalf of my husband, Jamie. He has been a devout follower since your amazing winning streak (I believe the correct term for him is “fair-weather fan.”) Regardless, he is committed to your cause and can be seen wandering around with bloodshot eyes after particularly late nights out on the town with you.

I admittedly am not much of a baseball connoisseur (due to the inordinate amount of pucks I took to the face whilst growing up in Canada) but I would love nothing better than for you to win the World Series. I have even been to a few of your games. Of course, I was usually lucky enough to be in a suite with oodles of food, Internet access and television so I can’t really confirm if you were even playing.

There was also the time we were given seats directly behind home plate and indulged in the gourmet fare at the secret restaurant in the secret tunnel. When we returned to watch the game, we were presented with an extensive menu and informed we could order anything off of it…for free. I can’t remember but I think you won. I know I did.

These experiences have confirmed that I could grow to love baseball. Well, except for the time a couple of years ago when we took our 1-year-old daughter to have her first taste of your Great American Pastime. Unfortunately, the only taste she got that night was when she proceeded to lick all the garbage cans in the lobby.

Fond memories aside, my reason for writing today is to thank you for your clean 4-0 sweep of the Arizona Diamondbacks. You see, Jamie and I had big plans on those Tuesday and Friday nights. As you know, these would have been potential game days had you not come out as the winners you are.

Last Tuesday, I had signed up weeks ago for a free parenting seminar at The Children’s Hospital entitled “Oh Poo.” You see, we have a daughter who is an underachiever as it relates to her bathroom habits. Desperate times call for desperate measures – times that evidently include attending a class with “Poo” in the title.

Dearest Rockies: if you had not won, my poor husband would have still been dragged along to the seminar because I urgently needed his support. Please, please, please don’t think I’m sacrilege; I appreciate the historic nature of your bid for the World Series. But unless Todd Helton is prepared to come wipe my 3-year-old’s butt, it does not have much bearing on me.

As for Friday, Jamie had planned a getaway to Breckenridge. In a 4,000-square-foot cabin. With a hot tub and roaring fire. WITHOUT CHILDREN. When he threatened me that our romantic retreat may also include watching you, well, let’s just say he may not have gotten laid it is a good thing you had already played.

Sincerely,

A Grateful Rockies Widow

P.S. Even though I am the only person in Colorado who does not bleed purple and will probably be burned at the stake bat for this letter, I wish you the best of luck at the World Series. We will be watching! Just make sure you win before November 5th because I have something planned that night, too. 🙂

A Behind-the-Scene Peek at the Insanity

The following is a true account of the email stream that occured after I asked our Mile High Mama bloggers to volunteer for an assignment. Reader beware: this is a disturbing confirmation of what occurs when “Mama” leaves the children alone.

Amber: Who has Rockies fever? Is anyone in your family totally gung-ho? What are you teaching your children about this big event? Anyone sporting Rockies paraphernalia? Personally, I’m not a huge fan but am getting swept away in it all!

Is anyone interested in writing a fun post about the Rockies from a “Mama’s” perspective? It will publish on the first day of the World Series.

Aimee: Well, I have a small one up right now… and I am not all that into it like yourself but I can definitely do it if no one else really wants to. Let me know!

Julie: Likewise, I can do it if no one is a HUGE fan. I fear that my credibility is flimsy though, as a transplant and a former Mets fan and Reds fan (I do stick with the National League though, if that helps).

Mitch: This sounds like man’s work ladies….I don’t want to read about how many touchdowns Matt Holliday hit. Let me know if you want me to help out on this.

Julie: oooooohh…them’s fightin’ words!!

(seriously, LMAO!)

Gretchen: We’ve caught it. The kids are thrilled the Rockies are going to the World Series, but with their limited perspective have no clue what it really means. I think they feel our excitement and make it their own.

When Mommy and Daddy are excited, good things happen. Like Pizza Hut at the door, late bedtimes, the promise of new t-shirts.

I can put something together, unless someone else has already written something or has a very itchy, must-write-it idea.

Catherine: So glad ya’ll got this one covered. I think I got Rockies Fever once, but it involved headaches and nausea…. probably something different altogether.

Amber: Wow, I leave for a few hours and look what I missed! Let’s have Gretchen cover this one and Mitch is welcome to write a Rockies post as well (mom vs. dad perspective). I will ignore his little comment, though admittedly the only reason I watch baseball is for the Tight Ends….

Desperately Seeking Sanity, Sleep and Food (not necessarily in that order)

I am still alive. I know my posting and commenting have been patchy at best and I really appreciate y’all still coming around to visit and confirm that I am still crazy. Now I’m just crazy busy!

Last Saturday about did me in. I had just ended my Fruit Flush Diet from Hell and was a hypoglycemic insomniac. Around 1 a.m. I also developed a cough so took some of The Good Medicine, which usually conks me out. There is vicodin in this cough syrup and as luck would have it, my body had the adverse reaction. I was bouncing off the walls the rest of the night and did not get even one lick of sleep. Note to self: hypoglycemia + vicodin = speed.

The bad news is the next day was jam-packed. It started with the final volleyball tournament for my girls. I reasoned that if we lost the first round, I could go home and sleep. But wouldn’t you know it: we won. And kept winning. And won the entire frickin’ stake tournament. With no sleep whatsoever. And yes, I am still bitter because I am a model coach like that.

That pretty much summarized my week. This is why I am ecstatic Jamie is whisking me away for a romantic getaway weekend. It was supposed to be a surprise and he swore his family to secrecy.

Screw-up #1: His mom slipped and told me she was coming to watch the kids.

Screw-up #2: A few days later, Jamie unthinkingly informed me of his workout regimen in preparation for “the cabin.”

Screw-up #3: The final blow was when Jamie’s mom pondered if there would be snow when we went to Breckenridge.

So, Jamie rented us a cabin. In Breckenridge. Without kids.

Just call me Amber P.I.

P.S. The 4,000-square-foot cabin. Hate me yet? 🙂

History in the Making

If you have a husband who weighs less than he did in high school.

Who has never needed to diet a day in his life, except for the experimental ones he does “for fun.”

Who has something called a metabolism.

And self-control i.e. he has a jar of his favorite treat (Jelly Bellies) on his office desk and only eats a few of them a day.

A man who consumed the exact same food you did on your honeymoon and managed to lose three pounds while you gained two. OK, four.

That same man who “offered” to do a 3-day Torturous Starvation Fruit Flush Diet with you last week. You reluctantly agreed, knowing he would kick your weight-loss butt.

The man who, for the first time in his life, quit 32 hours into it but still lost 3 lbs.

The woman who, for the first time in her life, suffered through the 72 hours of misery and WAS THE WEIGHT-LOSS WINNER… OR RATHER LOSER WITH 6.5 lbs.

That’s one small step for a man, one giant leap for womankind

The Great Pumpkin Contest

My family’s dinner conversations have gone from how to eradicate war and famine to the intricacies of growing the biggest pumpkin. (Though I am sure my obsessed husband Jamie would somehow argue the latter is the solution to world peace).

It started out innocently last spring when he planted the first pumpkin seed. (See Jamie’s blog for the full account). Over the summer, he and Hadley religiously watered and watched it grow from a molehill to a mountain.

Unfortunately, so did his competitive drive.

Pictures of your BOOOOOS Needed!

One month ago today, The Denver Post did a soft launch for Mile High Mamas. Since that time, we have had thousands of page views, 37 blog posts and 469 comments. Thank you thank you thank you for helping us building our community!

Now, help us build our Cute Kid Pics! Download your favorite Halloween photos of your children, past or present. The best kid pic will win a copy

Read On

The Great Return

OK, so maybe there is nothing great about it as I struggle to recover. The days in Canada were swamped, the nights long. Bode had a cold and was also teething. This meant he demanded that I hold him day and night. I appeased him to avoid the fall-out but I am subsequently under the weather. Just once, could I not be over it?

But overall, we had a blast! My niece’s wedding was held in my parent’s picturesque backyard and the reception at the church across the street. Her mother (my sister-in-law) comes from a family of ten. Add that to my crazy clan and it amounts to an inordinate amount of chaos. And food. Did I mention just how much food there was?

The Cake

My Aunt Sue and I offered to pickup the wedding cake. When I told Jamie, he snorted over the wisdom of the assignment. I will spare you the sordid details of when she and I went to Europe together and spent our entire time lost, dazed or confused.

As for the damage we wreaked upon Said Cake, I blame the speed-bumps.

Oh, and that hairpin turn I did not spot until the last minute.
No worries: it was nothing that some nice little flowers and a big ol’ ribbon couldn’t cover.

And blinders.

The Circle of Trust

Or rather, the heart. My big contribution to the wedding (besides smashing the cake) was raking a huge heart on my parent’s lawn. Just call me stupid cupid.


The Golf Cart ‘O Looooove

My mom and sister-in-law decorated our golf cart for the newlyweds to drive across the street to the reception. It was my idea to attach the cans as a part of our decorations. Because doesn’t every new bride want to be whisked away in her white, clunky chariot?

The Children’s Drug of Choice

Sugar. Lots and lots of sugar.
What Happened to Hadley’s Very Expensive Dress

Poop. Lots and lots of poop. All the way up her back. The damage incurred upon Said Expensive Dress was so extensive it had to stay behind to get dry-cleaned.

Evidently, what happens in Canada, stays in Canada.

Dr. Doolittle She is Not

We took my parent’s dogs, Mia and Shanta, out for daily walks to enjoy the fall colors. They are mild-mannered little creatures, except when constantly stalked by The Hurricane. The more docile of the two actually nipped Hadley in the nose. As she tearfully relayed the attack, I asked her what Shanty said when it happened.

“She said ‘Ruff ruff ruffffffff ruf ruuuuuuuf.'”

Evidently, stupid questions beget stupid answers. Even in Canada….

Parallel Lives

Nothing in life is stagnant and there is no greater testament of this than when I return to my childhood home. My parent’s backyard oasis is always lusher, their house more cluttered with “treasures,” and our home, once on the outskirts of town, is practically the inner-city. Well, minus the gangs (unless you count my band of brothers’ occasional visit).

There is only one thing I can count on: my mother’s driving ability. Or rather, the lack thereof.

Mother is a nightmare behind the wheel. Picture the worst driver in the world, throw in a few blinders and you’ve got dear ol’ Christine. I have not let her drive me for years and I strongly protested when she recently offered to take my daughter Haddie to the “treat store.” When she demanded an explanation, all I had to say was “Parallel Parking” and the bomb was diffused.

One day she was out with my sister-in-law, Jane. Mother (who loves to shop) saw a “cute” store in the middle of a shopping district that she just had to visit.

She spotted an open parking space, put on her blinker and proceeded to parallel park. This attempt in itself was very ambitious considering her abysmal driving record. As a bonus, the traffic light up ahead was red so Mom did not have to worry about cars careening past her.

And so she parked. Or at least tried to. She backed in and out, readjusting herself every few seconds as surrounding cars started blazing their horns. She, of course, ignored them. Horns and fingers are very common things that surface when she drives.

My sister-in-law was not paying attention up until this point. She finally looked ahead to the traffic light that had turned green and then back at my mom’s parking job.

She then realized the terrible truth: my mother had been mistakenly trying to parallel park between two moving vehicles that were merely stopped at the red light.