Ho Ho Home

I've never seen such dark circles under Sawyer's eyes until tonight. Both kids need about two days of really good sleep to recover.

The lack of sleep is a sure sign we were having good fun. Our gift this Christmas was a visit to DC. We got to spend nearly a week with my parents and my Aunt Bobby. The kids settled right in to their old routines. Sawyer watched Polar Express on the tv in "his room" about 14 times. I'm pretty sure that was the highlight of the entire vacation. Arden ate her way through the house. We played T-ball on the tennis courts across the street from the house. We shoveled two feet of snow out of the street, no wait, THE STREET! I never realized that the state doesn't plow my parents' street and we had to make room for cars to park for the 35th annual Armstrong Christmas Eve.

We seemed to spend a lot of time fighting traffic and going to the mall. Don't laugh, but IT WAS COLD! I took the kids sledding once across the street but we never made it to see friends or sightsee. Scott and I went to see a movie together, (2012. Avatar was sold out). But for the most part we just hunkered down and enjoyed some quiet time together with family. My mother spent the entire week doing dishes. Next year, I'm proposing she take a break and that they come visit us for a change.

The thing about traveling—it's hard to stop the fun for nap time. Trying to cram as much time in as possible, the kids stay up way past their bedtimes and sleep at odd hours during the day. One thing I discovered about myself after becoming a mother is that I believe in rigid sleep schedules. I've read only three parenting books: Healthiest Baby on the Block for dealing with newborns, 123 Magic for discipline and Heathy Sleep Habit Happy Child, which is basically my Bible for all things sleep. I'm pretty lax when it comes to everything else — food in the hair, kids balancing on tall objects, toys everywhere — but I'm a stickler about sleep. Theirs, not mine. I stay up WAY past my bedtime every night.

Traveling for Christmas when you have kids is hard in other ways too. Santa this year had to be very conservative in what he gave because it all had to be shipped twice. I look at pictures of other families with kids who have presents up to their ears, and I feel like we shorted our kids of the wide eyed thrill of abundance this year. But, fortunately they are young and the bar is low. There are many Christmases to come. I'm looking forward to spending next Christmas here with family from both coasts.

Looking forward to New Years with Sarah and Dara.

missing family

Xmas gifts

Okay, now, everybody look at mommy!

Everybody look at the horse like its trying to tell you something.













For this next picture, look like you are just pondering life . . .











Now just look at mommy, normally . . .

Devil's Thumb

We took the kids to Tommelfest at Devil's Thumb Ranch this weekend, an odd celebration of Nordic culture centered largely around eating meat, skiing and throwing heavy objects. We looked a little goofy out there in our heavy telemark gear and baggy clothes while everyone else flittered around on a new generation of skinny skis wearing bulletproof spandex. Sawyer didn't want to get on his skis. He was way too excited about the "car" we rented, which he kept asking to "go faster." Finally, running into a girlfriend from school (she's 5), he decided to strut his stuff, little Napoleon that he his. (That video is on Facebook). The wind in this video, as always, sounds worse than it really was. But, don't get me wrong. I wasn't stripping down to a bikini either. I figure the combined weight of the kids s about 60 pounds. We each took turns, pulling the kids about 3 km each. Today my whole body feels like Gumby.

All in all, it was the first weekend here that I really started to feel like more than just a visitor. I ran into several different people I know at Tommelfest. It's strange, when you are used to small towns, to go somewhere and not know anybody.

Saturday night we had our office party, potluck style, at the circulation coordinator/delivery driver's house. He had set up 3,000 lights up outside his house. The directions we got were: "turn left and look for the glow on the horizon." The publisher made lasagna and brought a cooler full of alcohol. We all brought the side dishes, appetizers and dessert. We did a white elephant gift exchange (I walked home with the best gift). Steve had a bonefide Man Cave in his basement with working 8-tracks, poker and Foosball, all of which were put to good use. With only eight full-time employees plus spouses (no kids), it was a small crowd and we had a blast. All due respect to my former colleagues, this was the best office Christmas party I've ever attended.

First Lesson

Somewhere, in some photo album back in Virginia, my mother has a picture of either my brother or me on these very same cross-country skis . Family legends were born out of our annual trips to New Germany State Park in Maryland. At some point over the years, we took most of our family's best friends along. The Vaughters. The Knights. The Grosses. Sarah Quainton. We always stayed at the Casselman Inn and — ooohmyGawd — the bread. The bread! I can still recall its sweet yeasty goodness. I also remember the time Joshua Gross ordered cow brains off the menu. Sweetbreads. Who wouldn't want that. Bletch. There was the time my brother got lost in a snow drift after rolling off a sled (remember when it used to snow back east?) Then there was the time he split his head open on a door jam and gushed blood all over everybody for about an entire day. And, there was me and Molly Knight bombing or way down 'Devil's Run.' This narrow, winding, forested trail plummeted down a mountainside, dropping at its terminus into a highway of skier traffic, requiring an airborne, 90-degree left turn at the finish and careful avoidance of beginner skiers. All this occurred on skis two times longer than our bodies. Those trips were all about hot chocolate and trail mix and cold fingers, and despite my parents' grumblings over our move to the mountains, they can lay full claim to instilling in me a love of the Great Outdoors. Between those annual cross-country ski trips, our white water canoe and rafting trips and weekend hiking and camping adventures, I was hooked. Maybe we only did those trips because my family was on a budget and we couldn't afford the annual Vail ski vacation, but I don't regret it, not now. Back then, sure, I was looking for every thrill possible, and cross-country skis seemed kinds geeky. It was the 80s. I wanted nothing more than to be a ski bunny in neon, with a headband holding up my big bangs. Problem was, I didn't know how cool I was. Now I'm a Free-Heeler, which is cooler than skiing and snowboarding combined. Ask anybody. Tomorrow, Sawyer goes out for his first ski, and he's going to be initiated the same way I was: Heels free. Poles tall. And, skis far too long for his body.

(If you want to see the video of Sawyer trying out his skis at home for the first time, you have to go to Facebook. Couldn't get it to load here for some reason.)

Breathless Blurt.

"I'm a good man and I don't hit people and when I get really really really tall I'm gong to drive daddy's truck." - Sawyer

Mirage?

Charlie Brown Christmas Tree *on steriods

It was a typical holiday debacle in Pierceville. We bought the $10 tag to go cut our own tree in the Sulphur Ranger District. Of course, the doors to the Arctic opened wide the other day and temperatures have been peaking in the single digits with a little negative sign in front of them whenever you calculate in the windchill factor (which as a kid I thought was the windshield factor). We bundled everyone up, and I was assured by our friendly rangers that we'd be able to jump out of the car and find a tree RIGHT THERE. We drove to the end of the maintained Forest Service road headed and down a snowy trail pulling the kids behind us in the plastic toboggan sled. Seven paces into the forest, I spotted a PERFECT tree far off to our right. But the man of the house said: Let's keep walking and see what else we can find. Another 5 minutes down the road I spotted several more, chest-high contenders. The man of the house said: This is supposed to be an adventure, let's keep going. An hour down the trail and twelve of my suggestions rejected, I realized that the tree selection was not mine to make. My back was breaking, the kids were crying that they are hungry and cold, and Scott had been out of sight for a good 20 minutes, frustrated with us all. Meanwhile, we kept passing families with their Chariots and tarps and gear sleds pulling out these beautiful, perfect trees with smiles on their faces. One family was on skis and the little girl is all: 'That was so awesome,' as they zoomed by with their fluffy little tree on a sled. Meanwhile my kids are rolling out of the toboggan into the snow, screaming for snacks that I don't have and freezing — and WE ARE TRUDGING DEEPER INTO THE WOODS. Here's the thing: In the forest, the perfect cone shaped, bushy tree simply doesn't exist. I was beginning to worry because, whatever we found, Scott was going to have to haul it out by manpower alone. We didn't have a rope, a gear sled or a tarp. Alas, I heard the call from through the woods. He had found two trees that met "The Criteria." Despite their daunting size — both were more than 16 feet tall — they qualified as perfect Charlie Brown Christmas trees. Unwilling to make a single negative comment about the height of the trees, I pointed at the bushier one and down it came. Scott heaved the base of the tree onto his shoulder and dragged it two miles back to the car without a single complaint while the kids screamed that their hands had frozen. Well, actually only Sawyer was screaming about his hands. Arden was complaining about her leg. After we got home I realized she had dropped a matchbox car down her snow bibs that had lodged itself near the top of her boot. We found the decorations AND the tree stand (which we spent 15 panicked minutes looking for wondering if it had gone in the yard sale). Sure, the thing has a few gaping holes and we had to lob it off at the top to make it fit in the house, but it's a Christmas Tree! And, like any Christmas tree, it brings light, joy, memories and magic into our house.

Alone, not lonely

We spent Thanksgiving dinner with some family friends that lived with us on the Navy base in Guam when I was Arden's age. They later lived in Virginia, and oddly enough they now live in Granby. Given that they are our only social friends in town at this point, we were incredibly grateful to be invited to spend the holiday with them. Scott and Justin took the medallions from work and spent the day skiing, which left the cooking to me . . . gasp! I made a green bean casserole straight off the box of french fried onions that won me many praises, I'm proud to report.


One of our Thanksgiving dinner companions was in a fairly advanced stage of Parkinson's disease. Three-year-olds tend to be pretty blunt about anything they perceive as unusual behavior. Earlier that day in the grocery store, I ignored Sawyer when he asked loudly about the man next to us in a wheelchair: "What is that man doing, Mommy?" But, there was no getting around it when he turned to his convulsing dinner companion in the middle of the meal and asked frankly: "Why are you doing that?" Preferring to avoid the painful awkwardness altogether, I was preparing to divert the conversation, but I think the man's wife appreciated Sawyer's directness and she offered her best preschool explanation. After learning that his new friend's uncontrolled movement was caused by medicine, Sawyer attempted to mimic it repeatedly for the rest of the meal, much to our dismay.


I have a theory that it takes three years to really find good friends in any new place. I'd love to fast track that this time around, but it's hard to meet people socially when I'm working full time and have kids at home. I'm excited to get out with the family on weekends for hikes and skis, but I have little energy right now for book groups, supper clubs or church. I'm pretty self-absorbed, enjoying my little family, our house and exploring the area right now.

That's not to say that we've been total loners. We have some dear friends living elsewhere in the state and we have spent several weekends out of town. Two weekends ago we visited my old Leadville roomie who now lives on a farm in Grand Junction. Arden and Sawyer had a blast checking out their cow and chickens and llama, and playing with her two kids who are 2 and 4.




The day after Thanksgiving my dear friend Dara and her entire family came to visit for a few days. We celebrated our 6th anniversary in style with her parents Saturday night while the kids stayed home with a sitter. They brought the kids a sled, which we made good use of on snowy road in Rocky Mountain National Park. Dara and Mike hauled my kids up and down the entire way.


The next day Scott had a better idea: