Utah Mom Blog & Mommy Blogger | Life Elevated Mom

In Training for the 2014 Olympics; Actual Event Yet To Be Determined

August 5, 2007 by Amber

I think every parent secretly has aspirations of athletic, musical or academic grandeur for their children. Even little achievements such as that first ~~face plant~~ step are met with pride as we vicariously live through them.

The Hurricane has been enrolled in gymnastics this summer and had her first big meet on Saturday. We made a big deal about it and invited The Grandparents who came to our house afterwards for a celebratory brunch.

During warm-up, another little girl showed up wearing Hadley’s exact same leotard. To make light of the situation, I pointed her out to Hadley and commented,”Oh, how fun. You match!”

Instead of delight, they regarded one another with disdain and walked past dismissively. Evidently cattiness starts at a young age. Like, how embarrassing.

Overall, Hadley performed like a champ, expertly navigating the balance beam, flipping on the bars and doing back somersaults on her floor routine. All was going well until the springboard. The kids were supposed to do “The Tigger” bounce through some hula hoops and then launch off the springboard onto a mat. Note: I said supposed to.

Now, to preface this scenario, I need to explain that Hadley has the DNA to jump. Believe it or not, she gets it from me (thought Jamie adamantly disputes this claim). Back in The Day, these short little legs of mine were long jumpers. I would train for hours on our trampoline and I even placed second in the long jump at Calgary’s city finals. Only Claudette Creary, a brawny black girl, could out-jump me. And out-run me. And out-everything me. I wonder if her photo is still on my dartboard back home.

Evidently, I am nothing if not a gracious loser.

So, back to the Hurricane. After breezing through her Tigger bounces, she bolted for the springboard. The problem is, the dear girl did not realize you are supposed to launch off it and not over it.

What followed was not pretty. The dear girl’s takeoff step was about a foot in front of the springboard as she then tried to clear it. For a moment, I swelled with pride as a marveled at my little Hurricane in flight.

But then came the landing.

Suffice it to say, it did not end well for dear little Hadley. Either time.

Maybe we’ll just stick to track-and-field in the future….

Filed Under: Hadley, Humor

Let’s Make Lots of Money

August 2, 2007 by Amber

We have enjoyed a glorious week of playgrounds, ponds, picnics and potty training. All right, so maybe the latter activity is significantly less than glorious and my patience ~~is beginning to wear thin~~ is positively anorexic.

Yesterday, I set the children loose at a fountain park. Or rather, I set the Hurricane loose.

Ever-cautious Bode analyzed these shooting streams of chlorine and calculated the associated risks. After a half hour, he hesitatingly made his approach, only to scurry back to me each time.

His downfall was not the actual fountain but rather, the brief interlude when it stopped spewing. If the kid had any sense about him, he would know that Old Faithful is just that: faithful. And those cool bubbles that formed in the interim turned very quickly into an onslaught of water.

That is where good parenting comes in.

Or at least, it should. Unless you’re out for a laugh.

It did not end well for little Bode.

While I was taking pictures of our outing, I was reminded of a hot topic at BlogHer regarding the monetization of blogs. This was highly controversial among the Mommy Bloggers in particular because critics say by having ads we are just using our children to make a buck.

And so in the light of exploitation, I am proud to announce Bode’s future with a certain sporting goods company:

And Hadley? Surely there must be some money in the en*ema market….

Filed Under: Bode, Colorado, Hadley, Humor

BlogHer Babes Part II

July 31, 2007 by Amber

Some of the best moments of my trip to BlogHer did not occur until Saturday—the day I decided to play hooky. It probably had a lot to do with my record-breaking 7.5 hours of sleep but that additional half hour of just lying in bed just may have been the highlight. Or maybe it was that I did not have even one kid using my face as a springboard.

It was tough getting out of bed but since my arrival, I had been salivating over the network of lakeside trails just adjacent to the W Lakeshore Hotel. I rented a mountain bike at The Navy Pier and headed north. My once deserted beaches and trails exploded with activity: sunbathers, swimmers, runners, cyclists and volleyball enthusiasts. Think Frogger on Wheels and you can pretty much imagine my motion.

After several miles, the crowds thinned and I reclaimed the pathway. I finally stopped at Foster Beach on a bluff called “Contemplation Point.” I kicked back for a few minutes, relishing the balm of fresh air, the army of rough waves and the sand, gradual and smooth. And, I welp, contemplated.

Really, the only downside was battling the swirling wind whose severity came as a surprise to me. Later, I had an epiphany as I shopped at the Navy Pier and observed the onslaught of souvenirs that boasted the mantra: Chicago—The Windy City.

Evidently I am not the first person to notice.

That afternoon, I met my roommates at the Imax to take in a very large, very 3-D Harry Potter.

(Me, Melina, Meg and Melissa)

We fully anticipate this will start a major fashion trend.

That night, it was off to BlogHer’s final extravaganza at The Children’s Museum. I was admittedly hesitant to attend. Though I have certainly never been characterized as shy (think Frogger on Sugar), interacting with such a large number of women was both exhausting and overwhelming.

I had a good number of both engaging and banal conversations and then stalked the conference’s closing speaker, Elizabeth Edwards. I would have approached her but 1) I had skipped her speech in order to watch the obtuse My Super Ex-Girlfriend on HBO and 2) This Canuck’s vote (or lack thereof) is useless to her. Besides, it was much more fun to play paparazzo.

I also reconnected with my favorite cohorts: Liz, the two Shannons, Lisa and Kristy. We chatted for a couple hours and experimented with how many Mommy Bloggers we would could cram into the photo booth (only four). Kristy was unfortunate to get behind The Big Haired Lady. Pictures will be forthcoming. Well, not of Kristy. Sorry, babe.

We grabbed a bite to eat (actually several bites but who was counting), and watched the fireworks on the pier. And then we grabbed more bites with my first official introduction to fried dough and wandered the pier marveling at the energy and pulse of that great city. And we ate. Or did I already mention that?

Photo: Lisa, Me, Dana, Shannon and Lovely Liz

The next day, I was welcomed home by a loving husband, eager children and a clean house. The latter element would have been accepted without suspicion if Jamie had refrained from announcing, “We kept it this clean all weekend. Really.”

And then he gave Hadley that knowing glance. The one that says, “Keep your mouth shut if you ever want to watch Dora the Explorer ever again.”

Evidently, What Happens in Denver, Stays in Denver.

Though the same could be said for Chicago….

Filed Under: Humor, outdoors, travel Tagged With: BlogHer

BlogHer Babes Part I

July 30, 2007 by Amber

My two and a half day estrogen overload a.k.a. BlogHer has finally come to an end. Well, it was actually three and a half days if you want to calculate the time spent in flight. Or rather, the time spent on the ground waiting for said flight that was canceled then rerouted through St. Louis. Did I mention I encountered extreme delays there as well?

Oh, and not to be forgotten is when I was handed what I thought was a harmless piece of paper as I was “selected” in the security line. I then underwent my own little private booth of puffer smoke and a veritable terrorist debriefing. Here’s a little hint for you: if you are selected in security it is not a good thing. Ever.

When I finally arrived in Chicago, my zany roommates Melina, Melissa, Meg and I hit the Whisky Skybar for a preliminary gathering that consisted of a small dark room, loud music and lots of women. Women who blatantly checked out each other’s ~~bosoms~~ name tags. I haven’t seen that much cleavage since…well, I guess if I was a man I could readily answer that question.

There was also blatant prostitution as women whored their business cards. “Hey, never heard of me? Likewise. Here, take this card and you will never look back.”[Insert seductive, come-hither-to-my-blog look]. I was unprepared for such debauchery and had naively printed off about 30 cards. Thirty cards that were gone within 30 seconds. I think my services would be labeled as a quickie.

I met scads of fantastic ~~whores~~ gals who included Lisa of Midwestern Mommy and Kristy of Slacker Moms R Us.

The next morning, I woke up at 5 a.m. (yes, that would be 4 a.m. Denver time) and went for a marvelous run along the lakeside trail. The air was dank and dark, the lake unsettled under a heady drizzling sky. I was alone for much of my trek, something I initially attributed to Chicagoans being late risers but after further retrospect decided it is because they are just a little bit smarter than I.

BlogHer was a whirlwind of swag (that I ultimately forgot in the hotel room), speed dating for chicks and classes. Lots and lots of classes. Some helpful and empowering, others notsomuch. What I was not prepared for was the rhythm and hierarchy of the blogging cliques; in some ways it was high school all over again as I was transported to the late 80s. I bemusedly sat back and observed as the band geeks accused the popular panel kids of excluding them. The only thing missing was my big bangs.

Sadly, the big hair still lives.

That night, the cocktail party was on the rooftop of the Grand Ballroom. I mingled with some fantastic gals: Jenny of Absolutely Bananas, Liz of This Full House and the two Shannons of Believer in Balance and PhatMommy.

We later wandered around lost in Chicago looking for a late-night dinner. Because getting lost is an inevitability when dealing with estrogen overload. Rest assured, we were able to ask directions due to the absence of testosterone. These events alone confirmed that I was making some bosom friends. And not the name tag kind.

Photo: Kristy and Jessica “comparing notes.”

Stay tuned for BlogHer Part II. Or rather, playing hooky from it….

Filed Under: Humor Tagged With: BlogHer

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