A Utah Family Travel Writer's Adventures with Altitude
I have been doubled over in an inordinate amount of pain the past several days. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat and it hurts to talk (note: I did not say “can’t” on the latter point; gotta make an exception somewhere).
The culprit? A canker.
Evidently I do not have high pain tolerance.
In my defence, that Mother of All Cankers is the offspring of the three hours I spent in the dentist’s chair last week as she prepped my decaying mouth for a major overhaul. Some of you may remember my first dental appointment after birthing Hadley–that same rendez-vous that revealed my nine-month pukefest had done irreparable damage to my teeth.
Just as we were making attempts to fix it, I found out I was pregnant with Bode and so we had to hold off.
Well, I was on-hold for about eighteen months: nine for the pregnancy, another nine mustering up the nerve to go back in. During that time, simple cavities and fillings blossomed into a veritable rock rot garden of crowns and root canals.
Who knew?
Tomorrow is my first of many follow-up visits wherein I pour my life savings into my mouth. My dentist referred me to an endodentist for Phase I. Not familiar with endos? This is a medical term for Chinese Torture.
Or a Pollack Mercenary. Sadly, I know all about that, too.
Welp, maybe Alaska is another place but I think the H2O might be on the chilly side.
‘Twas a busy weekend at play with the clan. On Friday, we hit Bellview Park, a fantastic venue that consisted of Bode’s first face plant stream wading, a petting zoo and a train ride. OK, maybe the train ride didn’t exactly happen. I guess I am not the only thing that cannot endure the heat–the woosy train tracks were “compromised” because of it. Evidently they imported them from Canada.
Saturday, we hit the high country and hiked to St. Mary’s Glacier, a definite must-see if you are ever in Colorado. The kids were fantastic and the views breathtaking. As we trekked along, Haddie sang and Bode happily babbled away in one of those moments where everything just seemed right.
Until Hadley rummaged through the pink dog puke on the side of the trail. Because evidently everyone needs a reality check. Too bad we get those checks all day long, every day.
That night, we hit Lower Downtown “LoDo”, the place where Denver’s hippest and most happening people hang out.
And then there was us.
We went to dinner at a cool Mongolian BBQ restaurant and then hit the streets for La Piazza ‘dell Art in our annual attempt to expose our kids to culture.
I have always wanted to attend this festival to see all the artists transform Larimer Square into a beautiful street museum of colorful chalk images. And I really wanted to see if they could duplicate the artistic rendering I do of hopscotch on our driveway.
They came close.
But didn’t even touch Jamie’s masterpiece he created last summer entitled “Traumatizing the neighborhood, one kid at a time”….
A couple of years ago, a friend invited me to join her playgroup at Belmar Park. It was a glorious sunny day, the kind you relish as you watch your 1-year-old test out her wobbly legs like a baby bird taking flight.
As the mothers talked freely, the children played. They splashed in the stream, giggled on the train, squealed at the animals in the petting zoo and rolled in the grass. It was one of those times when everything just seemed right.
Until I met Daniel. Actually, it was my sweet daughter Hadley who instigated the introduction. She had wobbled over to a corner of the park about 30 feet away from our perch and had innocently plopped down beside this little boy. He was tow-headed, bespectacled and I will never forget his bottomless smiles. I will also not forget his accompanying oxygen tank.
I am unsure if he was with his mother or a caregiver but we started talking. Daniel was just a couple months older than Hadley but half her size and severely handicapped. But this child emanated a light like I have never seen. A light that spilled over as he eagerly watched the children play around him.
In those brief moments that we spoke, I had such a strong connection with this woman as she longingly looked over at our exclusive circle of friends. A voice screamed inside of me, “INVITE THEM OVER! She is in desperate need of companionship!”
But I did not.
I had my reasons, albeit superficial ones. After all, I did not know this woman, she did not know me. And besides, this was not my playgroup; I was already crashing it. How would it appear if I invited a complete stranger over?
That woman has probably long forgotten that day.
I have not.
It made me do some serious self-examination regarding how as women we can be the most amazingly supportive, thoughtful and loving yet also host a darker side of judgement, fear and cattiness. Why do we even have the ridiculous “Mommy Wars?” How is it we cannot just put aside our differences and relish in all those commonalities that bond us together?
It was a much-needed lesson. And I am slowly learning to listen to that voice and watch for those in need. And the toughest step of all: to look outside myself and take action.
I just wish I had listened the first time around because the image of Daniel is one that this mom will never forget.
I find it somewhat ironic that the depression rates skyrocket in the wintertime. Why? Because I am the complete opposite. I wouldn’t call it depression exactly but as soon as those temps start rising, my moody-barometer does as well.
Yesterday was a mind-numbing mind-melting 97 degrees. I wish I liked the hot weather, really I do. Growing up in Calgary, this was never an issue. Our house didn’t have air-conditioning. We didn’t need it. Summers were a moderate 70 degrees, which almost made up for those bone-chilling winters. Too bad summer only lasted two weeks. 🙂
Since moving to the U.S., my body has been in heat-apeptic shock. People said I would adjust. I have not. I can’t walk in it, I can’t workout in it without my body breaking out into a big ol’ heat rash. I have to do all outdoor activities before 10 a.m. because it is just that bad.
When I was living in Utah before I had kids, it wasn’t a problem. I’d just head for higher ground or pull an air-conditioned quarantine.
But my little ones love to be outside and so I find myself half-nekked (in the most unflattering visual imaginable) pretending to be that enthusiastic mom who embraces summer. Of course, a solution is head to the pool but 1) I can’t manage both little ones by myself and 2) I really am not a water person and loathe getting my face wet.
Another solution would be to hide out in the shade in our backyard but guess what: our newly-planted tree emits approximately two square feet of shade. One of the glories of building a new home.
I even bought this snazzy new necklace. Because I am just that pathetic.
Don’t laugh. Once upon a time, I did a study abroad in Israel, Jordan and Egypt. In the summer. When it is HAWT. And I brought along a little portable fan. I was mocked and cajoled as the woosy Canuck. But that day when temperatures hit 127 degrees in Jericho? No one was laughing as they lined up behind me for a gasp of air.
So this summer? I’ll be one whining and complaining about the fiery-furnace that-is-the-outdoors whilst dousing my body with the hose (being careful to not get my face wet, of course).
And then sticking my head in the sand like an ostrich. Oh wait. Blast my aversion to sand as well….
I’ve had loads of inquiries regarding my Denver Post project. For the latest updates and the lowdown on our great writers, click here.
It started out as a regular Sunday. I woke up at the crack of dawn, showered, tended to the kids, made Jamie’s favorite breakfast (gingerbread pancakes with fresh apple marmalade and whipped cream), followed by a backrub.
OK, so the fact that it was Father’s Day probably had something to do with it.
When we finally arrived at church, I noticed on the program that the Primary kids were singing a couple of songs dedicated unto the dads in the congregation. Hadley is in what is called Nursery; kind of the preschool to the Big Primary Kahuna and will move up in January. The problem is all her little buddies are a bit older and have already made the transition.
So, on the program I noted the Primary was singing her favorite song: “I’m so glad when Daddy comes home,” a little ditty she’s been singing since she could barely talk. I hesitated, wondering if my little social butterfly would be ill-at-ease performing a song she’d never practiced in front of huge congregation. So I simply asked if she’d like to sing it with the big Primary kids. The response?
Ohhhhh yeah!
In fact, she could barely sit still leading up to her debut performance. I even tried to do a practice run as a refresher but she got mad, saying she wasn’t going to sing it now. Silly me.
When it came time, she practically skipped to the front of the chapel and plopped herself front and center. And as if expecting all eyes should naturally fall upon her, she prepared herself to perform.
The only problem was that I failed to tell her they were singing two songs, the first of which she did not know.
The music started and for a moment, Hadley faltered. She cautiously looked around as if thinking, “This was NOT in my contract.” But while the other young children either looked bored out of their minds or like a deer in headlights, the Hurricane took a different approach.
“She is…she is…she is….” Jamie laughingly faltered.
“What? What is she doing?”
“She is lip-syncing the words!” he finally spewed out.
Sure enough, my little Hurricane was faking it, evidently so as not to disappoint her publics.
But the best reaction of all was when the second song came on, her song. She immediately perked up, SHOUTED the words, and acted out the actions such as “put my arms around his neck, hug him tight like this.” The kid gave an Oscar-worthy performance.
When it came time to “give him a great, big kiss,” Jamie and I were about ready to pee our pants as she dramatically swept out her arm and blew him a smoocher.
She was so proud of herself and had no idea that she, the youngest kid up there, had left the entire ward in stitches. And had made the biggest, funniest, cutest fool of herself imaginable.
And as for me? I was the proud mama all day. After all, it is sometimes nice to know the apple does not fall far from the tree. 🙂
Jamie is obsessed with getting a HDTV. So obsessed that he is the first to run to the get the paper on Sunday (go Jamie, here boy!) to checkout the latest ads.
He recently reconfigured our budget so we could buy one.
“What do you think of this?” he queried, showing me an ad.
“It’s nice but expensive.”
“As part of the deal, Netflix has a special offer of $5 a month.”
“When do we ever have time to watch movies?”
“Oh, this will give us time.”
“How will getting a HDTV make more time for us? Besides, statistics show that people who have a TV in their bedroom have significantly less less sex than those who don’t.” (Gotta hit him where it hurts.)
“But not if we institute NAKED MOVIE NIGHT!”
Gee, why didn’t I think of that?
I somehow survived the big BBQ. Well, except for the lovely hiccups of realizing the huge thermoses I rented from McDonald’s didn’t have a little thing called a spout. Or when the other gal in charge forgot to bring minor things like utensils and napkins. Who needs manners anyway?
Despite the behind-the-scenes chaos, everything went well. We had food, fun, softball, volleyball and races. Oh, did we race. The true capture of the evening was this gem: competition-obsessed Jamie entering Bode in his first three-legged race. (Click picture for full effect.)
You are going to the bathroom on a particularly sweltering day. While seated on your royal throne, the air-conditioning kicks on and you notice there is a vent directly adjacent that blasts the most glorious cold air on your butt.
And you stay in that bathroom, on that toilet, for at least another 15 minutes.
