Play Date

This is what it looked like down the street from my house in Granby the day after my mid-April birthday. There were wild crocuses on the trail last week. Marmots on the rocks. Pelicans in the pond.

Despite our location in the center of the continent, we have osprey. I was shocked, in March, to hear that the osprey had returned. This is bird of a different ilk than what lived behind my family's house on the Chesapeake Bay. Those shuttered at a mid-summer breeze. And more than once I saw an entire family of osprey babies blown away forever by an afternoon thunderstorm.

Today — only hours until May 1 — it is snowing. It has, in fact, been snowing for the past three days. They say that there is a lot of nitrogen in the spring snow here. It melts quickly, like a shot of red bull to the landscape. The ranchers love it. Overnight, the sagebrush blooms into a fragrant, misty green. (I adore the smell of sagebrush. In my days as a backcountry guide, I used to crush it and rub it all over my skin and clothes to improve the overall impression of one who has not showered in weeks.) The ponds fill with ducks and geese. The grass returns — never to the lush Kentucky green — but to desert green.

I don't know about the nitrogen theory, though it's something I may have to look into further, but I can testify that when we woke up on Thursday there were 8 inches of snow on Scott's car. Under that snow was a layer of red dirt. I am told that is dust carried by the storm from Utah, some 400 miles away.

I'm gonna kick your big "S"

In case you've never had the fortune to participate in a parent-teacher conference, let me tell you this: It feels like couple's counseling. Personality traits, parenting beliefs, personal interactions — everything that's going on in a marriage/family/household all somehow comes to light in a 30-minute session with — of all people — your child's teacher.

You may recall our conference last fall wasn't exactly uplifting. Spring brought new hope. Sawyer has made a huge turnaround at school these past few months. He's still only 3 years old, but he's a leader in the class, and hasn't had a timeout in nobody knows how long. He sends the teachers into stitches on a daily basis with his wit and random thoughts, and, we are told, his proper way of speaking (always: "Yes"; never: "Ya") instantly endears his every new acquaintance.

While drama, pretend and storytelling are his his strong suits, he's afraid of writing his own name, drawing and cutting with scissors for fear of being inexact. And, while he's incredibly verbal, he has some potential speech issues that we are going to have further evaluated.

He knows how to spell his own name out loud — S.A.W.Y.E.R. — and he's very interested in who else has a 'Big S' or 'Little S' in their names. He points out that Sylvia has a big S and Scott has a big S but Justin only has a little S, so he can't be on their team.

Tonight, rough-housing with Scott before bedtime, I overheard Sawyer say: "I'm going to kick your big ass." I whipped my head around the corner, startled, and found Scott in hysterics.

"I'm going to kick that Big S right out of you! I got your Big S, see? I got your Big S right here in my hands."

Justin at the North Cone, 12,060 feet

"Man, the altitude is kicking my butt."

Note: This isn't as easy as it looks. He had to hike up from the top of Panoramic Lift and board down through crusty powder.

High Five Dad

While Scott continues to job hunt on a daily basis, he is enjoying (most days) the opportunity to stay at home with Arden and, on Fridays, with Sawyer as well. (Interesting note: For many years Granby has run on a four-day school week to allow kids the opportunity to ski, travel for sports, take extracurriculars on Fridays.)

After three months as a SAHD, Scott has his routine all worked out. There are five libraries here in Grand County (and only 12,000 people) and each library has two preschool story times each week, so he makes the daily circuit and has determined which story hours are the best. But, hitting four story hours a week can get a little redundant, so this month we've signed the kids up for a couple of classes.


Gymbor-wee



On Wednesdays, Scott is taking Arden to a romper room gym class at the new Fraser recreation center that just opened a month ago (wait 'til you see the kids pool!) The rec center has a full competition-level gym. Gymnastics is, oddly, one of the most popular sports in the area. The program was run out of a warehouse in Tabernash for years. The woman who coaches the competitive team also offers classes for toddlers and preschoolers during the day. Arden's getting her start with a little bouncing and tumbling. I love in this video that the moment Arden learns, 'It's a race,' she takes off and blows away the other kid. It's a bargain at $35 for 4 weeks.


"We were far far far away"



On Fridays, Scott is taking both kids to Nordic ski class, another bargain at $20 for 10 weeks, including rentals, passes, lessons and hot cocoa. The first week of ski class, temperatures were as cold as they've been here, registering negative 18 at 9 am. It was so cold, my car battery finally kicked the bucket after five years. Unfazed, we bundled everyone up and Scott headed off to the Nordic center with the kids, only to discover class had been canceled. Too cold. (I didn't think it was EVER too cold in Granby.)

After six days of temperatures below zero, we bundled everyone up as much as possible yesterday for week two of ski school. Even though temperatures weren't above 20 degrees, it was about 40 degrees warmer than it had been all week and the kids apparently thought we'd moved to Florida. So, first of all, in this video, you can see Arden stripping down to her skivvies. I also love that Arden is not the type to follow the beaten path. (You can see her off to the right in the video. Sawyer is the painfully overdressed kid in the green coat and black hat. ) And, I love that Scott is the only parent who hung around to help the instructors, and that he magically knows the kid's names. Must be all those story hours.

At the end of the video Scott interviews Sawyer who states that the best part of the whole thing, was making it back. And, now he wants some food.

Mommy, not me
Last week, a mom-friend we've gotten to know through Sawyer's school (who's also on the library/gym class circuit) invited Scott to join the Mommy and Me group in Granby on Mondays. Thinking this might be a nice addition to the routine, he went . . . and, promptly decided it wasn't for him.

The revolution of snow

Today we woke up to a revolution of snow,

its white flag waving over everything,

the landscape vanished,

not a single mouse to punctuate the blankness,

and beyond these windows

the government buildings smothered,

schools and libraries buried, the post office lost

under the noiseless drift,

the paths of trains softly blocked,

the world fallen under this falling.

In a while, I will put on some boots

and step out like someone walking in water,

and the dog will porpoise through the drifts,

and I will shake a laden branch

sending a cold shower down on us both.

But for now I am a willing prisoner in this house,

a sympathizer with the anarchic cause of snow.

- from "Snow Day" by Billy Collins

Ham

Sawyer has always been the hide-behind-my-leg kinda kid when we walk into a room. You'll also remember that he was the angel that cried at last year's Christmas Pageant. When we walked into his preschool today, I noticed that they had built a small stage and apparently had been playing "actor" all week. The teachers read aloud books and the children act out the parts and even say some lines. So, guess who their number one actor is? Really. Can you guess? I was FLOORED when Miss Molly told me that OUR Sawyer is the first one with his hand up desperately waving in the air "ooooh-oooooh-oooooh pick me pick me" and that he not only says a few words like the other kids do he recites entire lines, sonnets even. Then, again, I look at his genes (you know who you are people) and I wonder why this should surprise me. I guess I wouldn't be shocked if this kind of behavior was occurring within the confines of our home. But, this is public, people. PUBLIC.

What happens when it's too quiet

Lately my kids have found a knack for getting "into stuff" so quickly and so completely that it makes my head spin. A lot of it has to do with the move. When I was packing up the old house, Sawyer got into a stack of board games in Justin's room that hadn't quite found their way into a box yet. In a matter of minutes he had Justin's entire floor carpeted with a mismatch of Trivial Pursuit, Taboo and Pictionary game cards. It took three adults an hour to sort the mess back into proper piles. On this end of the move, in the time it took me to go upstairs to grab my hat and scarf, the kids tore apart an old 3-inch floppy disk they found in an open box and Sawyer came screaming and crying to me with a small metal spring from the disk somehow punctured into his finger. I didn't even know those things had springs. The other day, as I was coming down with the stomach bug and everyone else was recovering, I needed like five minutes of alone time. While the kids were engrossed in a movie, I crept upstairs to my room to lie down on the bed, and things were actually quiet downstairs for about three minutes. All the sudden, Arden, who I had overheard saying something about needing milk, appeared next to me with an entire 3/4-full gallon jug in her hands that she had somehow heaved up a flight of 15 stairs. I got up and headed downstairs to find her a cup and discovered this in the kitchen:



It makes me laugh how people baby-proof for 3-month-olds. It should be called kid-proofing. The apple was in the fridge in the vegetable drawer and the straws were up on the counter (not near the edge mind you), It was the first thing the kid had eaten in two days, so I had to cut him a break. Besides, his preschool teachers would be very proud. This puts potato clocks to shame.

Swindled

We all bounced back quickly from the weekend's stomach bug, but now I'm in a total tizzy over the Swine Flu situation. I've NEVER bought into hype, but after covering this story, I'm pretty freaked. Maybe not so much that my kids are going to die, which — let's face it — they could, but that if somebody caught it tomorrow I could be home with sick kids and my sick self and still paying for daycare for THREE weeks! I mean, let's get practical people. I can't afford Swine Flu. So, I'm seriously considering getting the shots when they are "released" next week. They are being carefully "released" by the state government, which makes me highly suspect . . . again, I'm not a big conspiracy theorist, but why dole the stuff out like trick-or-treat candy when 60 kids in a 200 kid school are out with the flu this week alone? By the time they finish distributing the stuff mid-January, most of us will either have already survived it or died of it.

Typical

There are no photos to describe what the past 24 hours have been like for me. So you will just have to use your imagination. The photo here is from a hike two weeks ago with our friend Mary, who visited from the Northern Neck the weekend we arrived.

A very old and dear friend from Salida came to visit me in Granby Friday night. I have seen her only a handful of times since moving away from Colorado and this was to be the first time she would meet my children. Since she doesn't have children of her own and isn't the world's biggest fan of little kids, I was hoping my children would win her over with their charm, wit and utter cuteness. Or at least not be brats.

Five minutes before she arrived, Sawyer said he wasn't hungry, his tummy hurt and he couldn't wait for my friend anymore, it was time to go to bed. (It was almost 6 p.m). I should have seen the warning signs. I should have bolted the door. I should have known.

My friend walked through the door, said hello and set her bags down, and Sawyer promptly welcomed her by exploding from both ends all over the upstairs bathroom. Arden, terrified that I was leaving her with yet another stranger, clung to me screaming while I tried to keep her a safe distance from the contamination. My poor friend sat downstairs, made us some dinner and probably texted her husband several times requesting a rescue mission.

Sawyer was up about every hour for the rest of the night, alternating between vomiting and crying for water, which kept both me and Arden awake. Arden, who was bunking with me due to the puke-o-rama next door, ran around the bedroom munching on Ritz Crackers and drinking milk at 2 a.m. while I desperately tried to sleep a for even two minutes. Meanwhile, something I had eaten was churning in my stomach, and I was trying to imagine how I was going to do this sick and alone.

Eight loads of laundry later, sometime around 4:30 am, I still hadn't slept. Sawyer was finally holding down water but Arden was now too punchy to sleep. She was wailing at the top of her lungs — absolutely and uncontrollably hysterical in a way I have NEVER seen her — and I was facing one of those deep abysses of parenthood. Nothing I did helped. I was completely exhausted and concerned about my poor friend who had sequestered herself in my room, not to mention the neighbors who could probably hear the racket through the walls.

I carried Arden downstairs, bundled her up and did something I've never done in 3 years of parenting. I put her in the car and drove around the neighborhood. Twice. I just crossed my fingers that Sawyer wouldn't wake up. It worked like magic and I got her back to my room. Put her down in my bed and then crashed on her crib mattress in Sawyer's room. An hour-and-a-half later, everybody was up again and for good.

Sawyer seemed to have made a big recovery and was chatting with my friend downstairs, but Arden was still miserable, crying and clingy. I got the kids to sit down on the couch and watch a movie long enough to allow me a shower. That wonderful, refreshing shower lasted for about five minutes before Arden puked all over me and the bathroom.

My brave friend stuck it out, despite my suggestion that she should feel free to leave us with our own misery. She went for a run and, when the kids seemed somewhat stable, I decided we needed a long drive to conquer this day. We headed to Rocky Mountain National Park. Both kids cried and fussed through the whole thing, but we did manage a short walk. Everyone cat napped on and off in the car, and by the time we got home I was exhausted. The three of us passed out together on the couch while my friend was in the shower.

I woke up several hours later, somewhat refreshed, drank coffee, put my on game face. Only then did I realize that my friend had left . . . hightailed it back to saner places. The kids, of course, were now perky and jovial and playing nicely. They took a mellow bath and went to sleep promptly at 7 pm without the slightest sound. Of course, my friend will never believe me.

All I can do is laugh. No wonder there are about a million sayings for it. Murphy's Law. Par for the course. Typical. Really, I should have known that I was setting myself up. Of course I would have the worst night in three years of parenting on the same night it mattered to me the most that my kids were good and wonderful. What's that saying: If you want to hear God laugh, announce your plans.

I talked to the friend later on the phone and she swears she's coming back soon. We'll see about that, but I'm sure I pretty much drove that last nail in the coffin for her as far as having kids is concerned. Honestly, at this point, I'm kinda wondering about it myself.

UPDATE: Sunday night. The universe is laughing at me. I thought I was going to escape this one. Ha. That wouldn't be enough of a challenge. Moving across the country with the kids alone, starting a new job and new schools and then dealing with sickness all weekend, no sleep. Cakewalk. Let's see how I handle it all when I'm puking too. Tried to get the kids to bed before it started. They, of course, would have nothing to do with it. Wish me luck. It's gonna be another long night.

The other half

While we are having these GRAND COUNTY adventures, Scott is still in Pierce-ville dealing with cleaning the house, packing up the last of the stuff and taking care of a rather long 'honey-do' list on the house before the renters move in Oct. 10. He's feeling left behind (stranded in Pierce-ville as he writes) and is bummed to be missing all the firsts - first hike, first snow, first sight of Colorado peaks. But, he shouldn't be too bummed to be missing first night of High Altitude Insomnia or the second night, or the third. Nor should he feel too bummed to be missing out on Arden's first week sleeping on a mattress on the floor (a.k.a. trampoline). Or Sawyer's long stream (excuse the pun) of potty accidents this week. I'm sure it's not fun place to be, left behind to scrape the sticky stuff off the refrigerator shelves. There's no glory in hauling trash and bagging up empty hangers off the closet rods. I have to give him props too, because he's already made one haul across country to rent the house and move all our stuff in so that when we arrived last Saturday we could pretty much just lay down our heads. (And his reward for getting all that crap done will be the opportunity to make a second haul across country with a truck that has 180,000 miles pulling a trailer!) We are routing for him to get it all done this week and to sell those last few anchors weighing him down in order to get on the road! He has mountains to conquer in the process, both literal and metaphorical, but it will be well worth it in the end. Here's a little cheer from the stands. Go Daddy Go!



ps - Mimi's birthday is in January and Pop Pop's is in August. So go figure.

SAHM - day three of four

I'm getting a taste of this SAHM thing, and I need some Scope. I signed Sawyer up for the "Little Red School" Monday and, lucky me, the following night was parent's night. I had to make a ceramic mug for Sawyer to use on special occasions. It'll be a miracle if the thing holds water. Everyone else had goblets with dinosaur designs and I basically made him a test tube with his name scratched into it, only the rim wasn't straight so it'll be a challenge not to pour water all over himself. One woman I met invited me to join a mom's group, which meets within sight of my house.

The kids and I headed over this morning and we met a whole bunch of young-ins Sawyer's and Arden's ages. But it was basically a business meeting. They were filling their calendar for the month of October and it was like: Monday we'll go on a hike and Tuesday we'll make Indian headbands and Wednesday - should we go to the pool or the park? hmmmm . . . and who's interested in making soup together next Friday? I was all: Sign me up for wine night! But, I'll probably never be able to do any of the other stuff. This whole Stay At Home Mom thing is a bizarre deal if you ask me . . . no offense to all you all out there who choose to do it and do it well. I just feel like the chick in a business suit at a Dead Show sitting around these intense parents with their crafts boxes and binders full of . . . WHAT? exactly.

Now, the mom I want to meet is the one that asked to bring a 13-year-old blind wolf in to school for her kid's show-and-tell. I'd could have a glass of wine with her!

Along with my not-so-great parenting shtick, Arden rolled off the back of the couch this afternoon and landed on a wood box. No, I did not have my eyes glued like a hawk on the kids, who were supposed to be watching a movie while I put some boxes in the basement. And, no, I did not have a ready supply of frozen peas in the freezer or ibuprofen in the medicine cabinet. So, after a quick head to toe assessment, and determining that her lip, once again, was the mass casualty of the day, we raced to the store, where I discovered that there was a widespread power outage (that would explain the dark freezer at my house). We bought Popsicles and Advil and raced back home. Arden had three pops, which I hope will deplete the swelling. But, once again, my girl looks like the Million Dollar Baby:



ps - that little 'emergency' officially broke my no driving to the store streak.

SAHM - day one of four.

One of the little perks of this move is that I get to be a SAHM for one week. Actually, four days, if you don't count Sunday. It's Monday, and this SAHM thing has already kicked my ass. I am wholly exhausted and it's not even 9 p.m. We visited three schools today (one twice), and Sawyer walked away from one stating: That's my school. (I agreed but, sadly Arden can't go there for another year.) It was, of course, the most expensive school and it follows the regular school year calendar (i.e. inconvienant). But, it's in a little red schoolhouse for Heaven's sake. After the school tours, we went to look for horses because Sawyer decided when he woke up this morning that his mission was to talk to a horse. We didn't see any close up but I did find him some in a field, which he yelled at. We explored YET ANOTHER awesome playground, ate lunch at Dairy King (which kicks Dairy Queens ass by the way) and then played in the driveway for the remainder of the day. And, I still managed to get a P.O. Box, which was my number one mission. I had to drag the kids inside (one kicking and screaming) and into the bath, and I haven't looked but I'm sure there's a filthy ring around the tub dirty as they were. I spent almost an hour on the phone talking to red schoolhouse teacher tonight, and now I'm going to collapse. But before I do, here's a photo I took from the driveway:

First Day

After a less than perfect night of sleep (compliments of Arden) the kids and I stretched our cold Colorado bones slowly this morning, taking in the better part of a Disney movie nestled under blankets on the couch before walking back to the store for coffee and a few more essentials. Now that I live within walking distance of City Market, I'm going to see how long I can go without actually driving to the grocery store. Then the kids and I headed to town (a whopping five minute drive) and started the day's adventures with a stop at the Granby Train Depot. It's just a little platform, but it was bustling this morning. An Amish? family was getting off the train, making me feel like I'd stepped back in time. The conductor was pulling suitcases out of the luggage car, and the kids and I sat, watched and waved to the engineer, who honked his horn, rang his bell, and flashed his lights at us, pretty much making Sawyer's life complete. Then we went to explore the playground and discovered three within walking distance. We tested out at each one before I managed to trick the kids into loading back up in the car to go see Mary - Arden's teacher and my friend from Kilmarnock - who happened to be in Denver this weekend visiting friends. Everybody happily took a short nap in the car before Mary arrived. We headed to Fraser for a hike in the Experimental Forest. Sawyer was an amazing hiker. Not one complaint. Went the whole way talking and singing to himself. Arden walked some, but melted down at the end when she took a digger in the dirt. We ended the day with Mexican food. Seriously. The only way that day would have been better is if I'd had a margarita with dinner. Everybody else took lots of photos on the hike, so I guess I'll have to wait to post them. Baths and bed by 6:45. I put the kids down in the same bedroom again on two crib mattresses side by side on the floor, but was having a difficult time getting Arden to stay put without a crib. After 30 minutes of Arden wailing and me struggling to get her to lie down, Sawyer said: "I don't want to live here anymore." I was heartbroken until the next moment when he said: "I want a different bed." I honestly couldn't blame him. I moved him into the queen bed I was saving for Justin and guests, at least temporarily. Everybody calmed down and went to sleep. Ahhh. . . . Now – Boxes.

Home.

The kids were troopers all day, especially Sawyer who wheeled his own luggage through three airports without complaint and not only braved the airplane without a tear, but a train, elevator (had to drag him) and parking shuttle bus (kicking and screaming). Sawyer took the whole thing like a little man and chatted up the lady next to him on the bus about how we were going to our new house and the bus was taking us to mommy's car. I was really impressed with his grasp of the situation. The kids and I had just enough time to walk over to City Market, appreciate the selection, come home and hit the hay. I convinced Sawyer to sleep in Arden's room at least temporarily. We'll see whether it works long term. As I was trying to get everyone to quiet down Sawyer said: Excuse me, Mommy. Can you do me a favor? Can you tell me . . . um . . . What are we doing here?

Here is a totally unedited 4-minute video of us arriving at our new house today. There's something I have to explain before you watch it. Sawyer is terrified of vacuums. Climb up on the couch and scream terrified. My Kirby 2000, which I bought for more than I will ever admit from a couple of door-to-door salesmen when I was single and living in Leadville, is guaranteed to be with us for the next 50 years, longer than I'll have the wherewithal to lift it. I considered getting rid of it before the move but decided it held too much sentimental value (not to mention that I may still be paying it off on my credit card). Anyway, Sawyer apparently shared that sentimental feeling about the old Kirbster as you are about to see.