Utah Mom Blog & Mommy Blogger | Life Elevated Mom

High on a Mountain Top Part I

July 15, 2007 by Amber

Greetings from my mountain paradise!

I have decided the Frisco/ Breckenridge area is the location of our future vacation home for the following reasons:

Gorgeous mountains: check
Nearby lake: check
Close proximity to Denver: check
Extensive network of hiking trails and paved bikepaths: check
Cool resort town: check

I excitedly shared my list with Jamie and elucidated that everything is in place. Until my bubble was burst:

“Sure, Amber. Everything except for the financing.”

Oh yeah, that little detail. Undeterred, I will keep dreaming and am grateful for our generous neighbors who loaned us their condo overlooking Lake Dillon for the weekend. Jamie had to work until late Friday so I had the brilliant plan to go up early with the kids. Exactly 28.5 hours early (but who is counting?) Well, I definitely would have if it had been a disaster but my gamble miraculously paid off.

The kids were positively jubilant as we arrived at the condo and strolled along the lake at sunset. On Friday, we had planned to bike to Keystone resort in what would have been a 20-mile roundtrip trek. You know, the day before my BIG RIDE with Jamie. It took only a few miles on the trail for me to rescind my plan because I just didn’t want the poor kids to be stuck in the bike trailer for too long. Oh yeah, and because I was dog tired hauling them.

The roller-coaster lakeside trail was breathtaking and upon arriving in the charming hamlet of Dillon, we stumbled upon a farmer’s market adjacent to the marina. I ardently declared, “This is the place” and unloaded my charges.

It did not take long for us to become swept away in it all: the live band, the vibrant marketplace, the scrumptious fare, the pulsating playground and the dock that became the surreal focal point for rock-throwing, fishing and cloud watching.

I called Jamie at work. You know, to rub it in just a little bit. He listened enviously as I described our backdrop until my reverie was punctured by:

“HADLEY, GET OUT OF THERE!!”

She had waded waist-deep into the reservoir.

Jamie chuckled, all envy gone, as he was reminded of his glorious gift of peace; 28.5 hours of it to be exact.

So much for rubbing it in….

In Part II of High on a Mountain Top: loads of pictures and the sordid details of The Big Ride.

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

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

The 4th of July Lady

July 8, 2007 by Amber

What a craaaazy week full of water, hikes and fun in the sun! For the 4th, I convinced still-sore Jamie to bike across town to a pancake breakfast and even threw in the clause that I would haul the children in the trailer. Because evidently all this heat has made my brain go to mush. Did I mention it was uphill? Both ways.

We spent the rest of our afternoon making ice cream and smoking ribs. We live in a fantastic neighborhood: on a hill overlooking where they shoot off the fireworks. Our development came alive as we closed off our street and had a huge block party complete with a water slide, volleyball and food. Lots and lots of food.

The kids had a grand time viewing the fireworks that night. Truth be told, I had an even grander time watching Bode (who has been walking for a couple of weeks) attempt to wobble down the small hill upon which we were perched. The kid surely has a future in gymnastics. And no, I didn’t feel badly for chuckling at his misadventures. I even gave that last roll/face plant a 10. Because I am supportive like that.

We were only bereft of our beloved neighbors, Mike and Lisa, who recently moved away. In addition to being great backcountry buddies, they were also our posse. Lisa is a complete sweetheart but if you were to meet Mike, you might be wary. With his muscular build, goatee, tattoos and beefed-up truck, he looks like someone you would avoid. Until you get to know him and he is the biggest softy who adored our kids.

A couple of years ago after the fireworks, we wandered back to our house and were shocked/bewildered/ticked off that someone had parked in our driveway. I mean, our street was littered with cars on the road but who would have the nerve to park in a person’s driveway?

Welp, we were understandably torked off. Mike noticed and he pulled his buddies into our inner strategy sanctum. Big buff guys like Mike who were enraged on our behalf. “Don’t worry about anything,” they told us. “We’ll take care of these guys for you” one of them professed as he cracked his knuckles. I think he freelances as a hitman.

“Let’s slash their tires,” one of them suggested. Now, call me crazy but doesn’t slashing someone’s tires kinda defeat the purpose of getting rid of them?

They finally agreed they would park one of their monster trucks behind the car to block it in. And then they would confront them. It sounded like a good idea but I did not want anything to do with the showdown. I suggested to Jamie that we take a picture of the culprit’s license plate in case they try to bolt across our lawn. He agreed.

I went inside to get the camera. By the time I started taking pictures, I, too had become a raging lunatic about the whole situation. As I was recording the evidence, I was interrupted by a small voice that queried, “What is this truck doing here? How are we supposed to get out?” Finally, the culprits.

I snapped. “WELL, MAYBE YOU SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT OF THIS BEFORE YOU PARKED ON SOMEONE’S PRIVATE PROPERTY AND AND AND….” then I turned. There, in front of me, was sweet little 9-year-old Rachel, the daughter of our cruise buddies Ivan and Karla. Her family had decided to catch the fireworks at the last minute but had arrived after we departed.

“Well, helloooooooooo, Rachel.”

There was no retracting my rant. And since that time, she has referred to me as “The 4th of July Lady.”

I guess that is better than “Psycho, Irrational Wench Who Unleashes Upon Innocent Children.”

Though I answer to both.

Filed Under: Uncategorized

I Would Like to Thank the Academy

July 6, 2007 by Amber

I am alive but it has just been a busy week with a compendium of activities. I shall give the full report when I can carve out more than a few minutes. For now, I am currently throwing everything together to go to the beach with the kids today. Yes, you heard correctly: I shall immerse myself in sun, sand and water a.k.a. the three plagues of Amber.

However, I would be remiss if I did not thank you, dear friends, for your generosity. First, for nominating me for a Rockin’ Girl Blogger award.

I would like to return the favor to Loralee, Wendy, Kristy, Stie, and Aubrey.

I am also a finalist for “Most Athletic” in the 2007 Bloggy Hoss Elections. On behalf of moms everywhere who wear sweatpants to scale tall mountains because they can’t yet fit back into their sassy little hiking pants, I graciously accept this nomination. Why else should you vote for me?

I climbed to the top of the stairs today…without losing my breath.
I did leg lunges for an hour yesterday whilst cleaning out the fridge after a 5-gallon container of fruit punch magically combusted. And I am not sore.

The funny thing is I didn’t even know I was in the running. Get it? Most Athletic? Running.

I am still shocked I wasn’t nominated for Class Clown….

Filed Under: Uncategorized

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

Climbing Colorado’s Rooftop

July 1, 2007 by Amber

Cue Mr. Manilow….

Looks Like We Made It!

Barely.

The sordid details upon our return. Oh, and when we can finally move again.

Filed Under: Uncategorized

Phase I: The Mommy Blogger at War

June 28, 2007 by Amber

I am not proud of my behavior, really I’m not. But what do you expect when the person with whom you spend the most amount of time is an irascible 3 year old? Something’s gotta break.

Here’s your CLUE. My little break[down] was–

1) Location: at the endodentist’s

2) Who: with the dental assistant

3) Weapon: a drill

You see, before the masked man made his appearance, the assistant sat me down in the big ugly chair. You you know: the one that dangles you upside down like a Cirque du Soleil trick gone awry.

“I am going to test your tooth to determine its sensitivity.”

I looked at her dubiously and jokingly retorted, “What you’re saying is you’re going to inflict pain upon me.”

She didn’t get it. Or maybe she did and she was just mad I was the first sucker to call her on it.

She didn’t respond and sternly commanded me to “open.” I think she even got some pleasure out of her torture techniques and was snippy to me the rest of the time.

Note to self: do not get on the bad side of the dental assistant. You may live to regret it.

I was in there for a few hours due to nerve problems and the complaints over the location of the tooth (forgive me for also having teeth at the back of my mouth). In my own sick, competitive mind, a part of me was proud my stubborn tooth did not give up without a good fight.

Such complications required an inordinate amount of X-Rays by my friend. Lest you had forgotten, did I mention I HAVE A CANKER RIGHT BELOW THE SITE OF THE ROOT CANAL? This made sticking The X-Ray Thingamajig the Size of Colorado into my mouth just a wee bit painful.

It did not help that my friend would spend about five minutes to line up the stupid machine and equally as long to take the picture. I think she even snagged a drink of water and had the nerve to accuse me of moving by the time she finally wandered back.

A bigger person would have just blown all this off but welp, this is me. And this was The Passive-Aggressive Showdown of my life and I could not back down.

I sensed early on that she was a bit obsessive compulsive over certain things, including the location of my spit catcher bib (the official name, I am sure). If it was not perfectly flat against my chest, she would promptly move it back into place.

My act of rebellion? I shifted it when she wasn’t looking, which drove her nuts. Pretty wild, eh??

Evidently I did not sow my wild oats during my teen-aged years.

In the end, my canal got rooted, she was relegated to sucking my saliva with the spit catcher and I now have a killer toothache and an exacerbated canker.

It is tough to say who won the battle. Certainly, I lost that war.

*****

This weekend is D-Day. You know: De Day all our ~~rigorous training~~ thoughts about rigorous training are put to the test as we attempt to climb the big mountain. Heaven help us. Wait. Not that that I want to return there anytime soon.

Oh, and if you don’t hear from me have a HAPPY CANADA DAY on Sunday! Make sure to smooch a token Canuck for me. Oh wait. Kisses are reserved for the Irish. A simple pat on the butt should do….

Filed Under: Humor

Goody Goody Good Mail!

June 27, 2007 by Amber

I got me some Good Mail today! For those not familiar with Good Mail, I have recently signed up with two different bloggers to send and receive little packages and notes to/from a whole lot of fun gals.

Oh, and did I mention I receive things? Cute things? Because it is not enough to obsess over the comments left on my blog. Now I have another outlet for my obsession that involves running to the mailbox every day. I have received some darling packages and I am remiss I have not posted about them. And so let this be my penance.

Diedra, a cute newlywed in Utah, was my assigned swap partner and nailed my package on the head. Admittedly, I was a wee bit worried when I pulled out her “Scrapbook in a Box” because many of you know that scrapbooking ain’t my forte. But then I noticed the layouts were already finished and all I have to do is add my finishing touches.

Now that is a girl who gets me.

She also sent a great recipe book for spring/summer dishes, her husband’s CD (that I can’t wait to hear) and GoLean Crunch, a favorite that will go into our trail mix this weekend.

And so any of you who are vacillating upon whether or not to send me Good Mail, hesitate not.

And NO, Mr. Wells Fargo Mortgage Man, “Good Mail” does not include you.

Filed Under: Uncategorized