Marriage is Like a Tattoo

I just watched people get married in front of millions of people in times square so they could sign the forms later and be "the first couple of 2016". Papa and I have been watching Friends and we just got through the story arch that involves Rachel and Ross drunkenly getting married in Vegas.... and then divorced. In light of all the people getting crazy tonight, I want to talk about marriage and divorce.

I've been married and divorced. I have dated people who wanted to rush into marriage. I've dated people who didn't believe in marriage or, it turns out, monogamy. That's fine. I've seen a lot of polyamorous relationships end in a spectacular conflagration, but I've seen the same from monogamy. Fine. Pick your poison.

Anyway, I'm not the only person I know who has gone through/is going through a divorce. That's really comforting. Misery loves company, right? But, in this case, it's more about not feeling broken. Is there something wrong with me? Am I unlovable? Am I always going to be miserable? Is it my fault? How did this happen?

I didn't intend to end up divorced. No one does. I wasn't the sort of person who takes marriage lightly. You know those people who write facebook posts proclaiming that they will never give up on their marriage? They say they'll work everything out like adults because they're not quitters. Yeah. That was me.

Whenever you make proud assumptions like that about yourself, you might be setting yourself up for a lot of pain in the future. If you would never formula feed your babies, you will be destroyed if something prevents you from breastfeeding. If you'd never drop out of school, you'll be devastated if, for some reason, you have to. If you'd never get a divorce... it will eat you up inside if your partner is hurting you and you have to say goodbye.

But marriages are like tattoos, so it's going to be okay.

Tattoos are traditionally permanent and your parents tell you to wait because you don't want to do something you'll regret. But that's because, in their time, it was not as possible to undo.

These days, you can have a tattoo removed. Good thing, too, because people often get tattoos under... less-than-optimum circumstances and soon regret them. You can cover it up with another tattoo, or you can just have it laser removed and never get another one. You will never really be the same, but you don't have to live the rest of your life with a tattoo you hate.

Some people never get tattoos. Some people get lots of tattoos. People might judge you for your decisions about tattoos, but it's none of their business and, if it makes you happy, they can shut their stupid faces.

You can have tattoos that no one knows about. You can have tattoos specifically so people will see them. You can get tattoos because you think other people will think more of you if you have them. You can get tattoos because you want other people to leave you alone. For some people, tattoos are extremely meaningful and have incredible depth. For others, they're just for fun.

Some people get tattoos, are disappointed, but keep them anyway... but you don't have to. That's what's important.

You don't have to stay.

I don't advocate divorce. It's difficult, expensive, damaging... it seems to always hurt someone. Still, no matter how many people you know are saying they would never leave their spouse no matter what he/she did... even if you've told yourself that... you don't have to stay.

I still don't take marriage lightly. I still believe in working it out like adults. I am divorced. It was a painful and complicated decision and process, and it was absolutely the right decision. I am scarred and a part of me is still a little sad. I will never be the same. I am still learning not to kick myself for my past, but it gets better all the time.

If you never want to get divorced and you want to work it out like adults, good for you. If that works for you, I'm glad. That is how it should be. But remember that a marriage involves two people. One person is complicated. Two are doubly so. Marriage is complicated and difficult even when it's healthy. But when it's not... if you've tried to fix it... if it's dangerous... don't put it on yourself to make it right. You can get that tattoo removed.

I Failed

Remember that math test I was pretty sure I failed? I did, in fact, fail. What's weird is, I felt better, not worse, when I saw my grade. In fact, I felt a lot better. I felt relieved. I don't exactly know why, but I think it's something like this:

• I hadn't failed a test in my adult life previous to this, so now I've set a record... and a bar. It's okay to make mistakes. It's okay to fail. It happens sometimes. I know I've been pretty busy and had a lot of crazy stuff going on in my life lately, so I don't take this one too personally. And, so far, I've only failed this test, which came at a bad time for me and included a lot of difficult stuff and, it turns out, everyone else did surprisingly poorly as well. Which brings me to the next point.

• It was an anomaly. I got A's on my other two tests in that class. I've gotten perfect or near perfect grades on the homework. It wasn't a surprise, because I went into the test knowing that I wasn't really prepared. Still, it was an exception, not part of a trend.

• No one was upset with me. Some people expressed some sympathy (or empathy, since anyone who has ever tried to get a college degree has probably failed a test), but no one was disappointed. That includes my professor. She recognized that this was unusual for me and the rest of the class and is offering us an opportunity to get some extra credit by reworking the problems we missed and turning the test back in on the day of the final.

I will still probably get a B. Like I said, I did really well on the previous two test and all of the homework and I'm not too worried about the final. I just need to study this weekend.

I failed a test and it was okay. It means I'm trying something new and difficult.

So, here's what I learned about parenting, and this is an important topic that a lot of people seem to be talking about lately: It's important to teach your kids that failing is... not only okay, but essential. If you are pushing yourself, trying something new, expanding your boundaries, you are going to fail sometimes. It's important to see that failure for what it is and learn from it. You don't have to feel bad about it. Feeling bad about it is a waste of your time and emotional energy. Besides, there's really nothing to feel bad about since everyone fails sometimes.

I think I expected disappointment. I expected to be disappointed in myself, but I also expected everyone I told to be disappointed. I don't want to disappoint people I care about, so I had an uncomfortable lump of fear. When no one reacted the way I expected, I thought, "Well, of course. I'm not in compulsory school anymore. My failure or success is entirely my own and no one has the power or reason to berated me for my shortfall anymore."

But why does anyone berate anyone for their shortfalls? Why do we breed fear of failure in our kids? They get pressure from every different direction. Their siblings judge them for being less capable in some way or another. Their teachers pressure them by giving them definitive grades and expecting them to learn at the set pace of the classroom (this reminds me of a blog about the pressure of grades I wrote over a year ago). Their peers label them for struggling with a concept. They don't need more pressure to perform... it just becomes more fuel for fear of failure.

I want my kids to fail, because I want them to be trying. I want them to be changing and growing and pushing the limits. I want your kids to do the same. The kids who don't fear failure will be the future innovators who stand on the edge and say, "we can make this jump". Maybe they fall, but they can get back up, armed with new information and try something else. They will be the leaders who change everything because they're not afraid to try.

Ask your kids what they failed at today... and be proud of them. Talk about what they learned and be glad that they tried. Make it a friendly, comfortable topic. Destroy the fear.

Sometimes, I Hate Being a Mom

When I was pregnant with the twins, I frequented a mom forum. I was scared. I didn't know what to expect and I didn't know any other reasonable people in my generation to talk to about what I was going through. I felt like I belonged. These people didn't even judge me for being 19 or unmarried. It felt like a miracle. I trusted these women.

After I had the twins, I continued to mingle in those forums. circumstances forced me to move to a rural town in Kansas to live with my mom and I was bored and lonely. I still didn't have mommy friends. I didn't really have friends at all because I could hardly leave the house. I trusted these women.

Then, one day, I wanted to complain. I don't remember what my gripe was about, specifically. Since I had two, infant, premature, colicky daughters I had to share a room with and I was single, broke, and living in rural Kansas, I'm sure you can fill in the blanks.

The responses I got just made things worse. People I had been talking to and asking for advice for a year or more were arguing with me and each other. A few were defending my right, as a mom, to complain. Several were chastising me for ever speaking out against the joys of motherhood because there are women out there who would give anything just to be able to have a baby and it's not fair of me to complain since I'm so lucky.

It's like saying there are people out there who are jobless and would love to be able to work, so I shouldn't ever complain about the harsh and demanding realities of my minimum wage, no benefits, hyper-demanding work at the funeral home (yes, I used to work at one of those) because I'm so lucky to even have a job. Okay. Yes, I was lucky to have a job. I could have been jobless instead. But if I don't point out the flaws in my job, I feel like I'm leading others to believe that there's nothing wrong with it and it's a sparkly fairy tale. That's not right. I mean, I stepped into it with no information. I don't want that for others. Besides, if I don't complain, it might never improve because no one will know that I'm dissatisfied.

Sometimes I hate being a mom because:

• It ruined my body
• it routinely destroys my internal peace
• it complicates my career path
• it puts a lot of stress on my family and my marriage
• it means I have to own a much bigger (read: more expensive) house
• it means I can't justify living in the city
• it changes the places I can go out to eat
• it means I have to own a huge (gas greedy) car
• it keeps me up at night
• it makes me judge myself harshly... all... the... time
• it makes me question myself constantly
• it complicates my budget
• it's suddenly much more cost effective to drive for two days than to fly anywhere
• I never have time to study
• I barely even do my makeup anymore

No one of these things seems like much of a problem. Combined, though, they start to hurt. The hardest part is that I am now constantly at war with myself. I can't manage to pursue my dreams and provide theirs. I never feel like I'm doing enough, and no matter how much I do... they don't understand the significance and don't act like they appreciate many of the things I do. So, I'm keeping myself up at night thinking about how to be a better mom and produce better adults from these children I have created... and they are totally unaware and seem to not even care.

And that's all okay. It's okay for them to behave that way. They don't understand. But it's also okay to feel this way, as a parent. Those of us who do (and I'd venture to guess that all of us feel this way sometimes, even if we put forth an image that looks like a Betty Crocker advertisement), shouldn't have to suffer in silence. That's just perpetuating the problem. No one will throw you a life vest if they don't know you're sinking, and if you've just had to fight off the Kracken while struggling to keep it from pulling you under, I expect you to warn anyone who will listen not to swim in the same waters unless they're feeling exceptionally brave. 

I just took my kids to a member's-only pre-grand-reopening event at the Children's Museum of Denver. They made all these amazing renovations. We had a completely fantastic time. I got Cub up from nap today and he asked me about lightning. I told him about static electricity... but he's convinced that thunder is the sound of Power Rangers kicking the lightning so it will go away. I love them and they make me smile and laugh and feel validated in my constant struggles... but they also make me scream into my pillow and self-loath and cry sometimes. This is being a mother. 

It's Okay to Cry

(I wrote this on Wednesday)

I'm pretty sure I failed a math test today. I could give you a lot of reasons why. I feel like I need the reasons because I did so well on all of the previous math tests this semester. I don't think the content was more difficult. I think I'm just wearing myself out.

I'm not getting quality sleep lately. My nose gets stuffy when I lie down... but only in the winter I guess. So I'm tossing and turning and waking up and stress dreaming. Plus, I started (or tried to start) this gym routine that has me getting up at 5:30 on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Needless to say, it has been very sporadic. It seems like my gym buddy or I have some reason we can't at least once a week. Still, we try.

My math teacher put together a review for us and we worked through some of it in class, together, on Monday... but I was too tired to understand what she was explaining. In fact, when I was driving to campus that morning, I had repeated feelings of being in a dream instead of actually driving. Apparently, that's called depersonalization and is a form of anxiety attack. Sleep loss increases anxiety, my good friends. Fun times.

So, I studied. I put it all on myself. "I must have just forgotten the stuff we went over several weeks ago." It was logarithms and completing the square. It's not simple stuff, and it had been a while since we talked about it. Review would surely help.

Last night, while the girls were with Daddy, I sat with Papa and reviewed the stuff I couldn't remember. But what he was explaining to me often didn't make sense and I'd have to ask him to start over. This stuff I learned several weeks ago was not coming back to me. It was like I was learning it for the first time... again. I cried a bit and got a little angry... as I am known to do when I come up against a wall I don't know how to climb.

We didn't have nearly enough time to go over everything I was struggling with, but we worked on every problem in the review, one by one, until I understood how and why we did each step... until we had to give up and go to bed.

Then, this morning, I skipped the gym so I could hopefully sleep a little more... but I had tossed and turned all night and spent hours lying awake, panicking about all of the school-related obligations creeping up on me. So, I left the house a little earlier than usual, planning to get to class earlier so I could jog my memory by studying the problems we had done last night.

When I opened my notebook and looked at the study guide... none of it made sense... again.

Then came the test. There were whole problems I couldn't even begin to work. There were problems for which I could find a solution using my calculator, but couldn't show my work because I didn't know the first thing about how to manually solve them. I wrote a note to my teacher on the scratch paper she provided. I explained how embarrassed I was by this test and that I studied but I couldn't understand or retain a lot of it for some reason.

After the test, I cried. I called Papa. I vented about how difficult it is to study, how tired I am, that I'm doubting my motivation and resolve to even get this degree. Why am I doing this?! Why am I making myself so miserable and stretching myself so thin? I want to show my kids that college and a career are viable options... I don't want to teach them that torture is how you get there.

Papa says I don't have to go full-time. I don't have to graduate in as few semesters as possible. But I don't want this crap to be a part of my life for any longer than it absolutely has to be. It was just one test, but it broke me.

Having calmed down, I know I am more than a sum of my failures. It's okay to fail sometimes. I've obviously over-extended myself. I was tired, and I have been for weeks. I am over-burdened and have been for a while now. I'm okay. I just need a break. Good thing Thanksgiving vacation is coming.

Getting Old But Not Being Old

How many other wives out there get to (or have to, depending on how you look at it) plan most of the date nights? I'm not a glass princess in a tower. I have things I want and I make them happen. I take Papa along for the fun and he usually has a good time. We call it a date because, if we didn't, we wouldn't be dating almost at all.

Tuesday, I took him to the theater to see Tribes. My ASL instructor mentioned that it was playing at the DCPA in class one day. I looked it up and decided I wanted to see it. I looked at ticket prices and seat availability and asked Papa if he wanted to go. We went.

The room was overwhelmingly full of grey hair. Why is that? I love theatre. I'm 28. Is there something wrong with that? I think people my age avoid anything with a stage. Papa and I have been to the symphony/orchestra twice in the last several months. Admittedly, there were plenty of young people at the Star Wars orchestra performance, but we might have been the only people under 50 at the Berlioz symphony.

Anyway, Tribes was incredible. The theater it was performed in was small enough to be intimate, and our seats were a few rows back and right in the middle. The characters were lively and believable. I'm no theatre critic. I was in a few plays as a kid, but nothing more than high school or community theatre. So, it impresses me when an actors can swear and argue and generally be abrasive, and also be called terrible names by his costars, without letting on that it's a little bit funny. That was especially important because there is a lot of shouting, arguing, name-calling and swearing in this play.

The set was beautiful. The presentation was amazing. The play itself is emotional and intense.

The play started at 6:30 and we had to pick up our tickets just before the show, so we didn't get to eat dinner until after. We didn't get home until about 10:30, at which time I had to cram all of my prep for the next morning in as quickly as possible. Because, earlier that day, I had committed myself to getting up at 5:30.

Let me explain.

I've been a bit stir crazy lately. I don't mean that I'm not getting out of the house enough. I'm out of the house quite a lot. It's my schedule I'm struggling with. I'm lacking spontaneity. I felt this way last fall, too. Fall semester doesn't have any breaks until the very end, right before finals, when we get a week off for Thanksgiving. So, somewhere between midterms and finals, I get tired of the grind.

I skipped a whole day of class because I just didn't want to go. I started thinking about just skipping my exit and driving to the mountains instead of to campus. I started having weird dreams with spontaneous (sometimes inappropriate or dangerous) themes. I decided I needed a change.

When I settled on an idea, I texted a friend I thought might want to join me. I wanted to start working out more. This plan has at least three benefits: 1.) I get to change my schedule 2.) I get to be healthier, which I was having trouble managing otherwise 3.) I get to hang out with someone who doesn't live in my house and who makes me laugh. This, I silently asserted, was going to get me through seasonal affective disorder this year.

We decided we'd meet at the campus gym and work out for an hour in the morning three days a week. I have class at 8 on Mondays and Wednesdays. I get up at 6:30 so I can leave the house by 7 and be on campus sometime between 7:30 and 7:45, depending on traffic. So, now, I get up at 5:30 so I can leave the house by 6 and be on campus at about 6:30... because traffic isn't an issue... because basically no one gets up that early.

It was great. 5:30 was fine. Working out was fun and woke me up for my 8am math class. I get to spend more time with one of my favorite people, and I feel better today that I normally do on school days. In all ways, this was a great plan. In every category, it was either exactly as enjoyable as I imagined or better. And I didn't have to buy a motorcycle or dye my hair to feel like I broke out of my box. Win!

Pumpkins and Halloween

Halloween is my favorite holiday. Why don't we get time off for Halloween? Thanksgiving is lame, political, at best based on a myth, and reinforced with lies. Thanksgiving, as a holiday, makes me sad. But I have a week off for Thanksgiving. So, I've learned to appreciate it as a time when I can visit family and not have to worry about school work. I do love visiting family.

But Halloween...

We buy/make costumes, we buy candy and toys. We pick out pumpkins and we carve them. We stuff little, cellophane bags with little toys and treats. We dress up and do makeup and hair. We decorate our yards and spend hours out wandering the neighborhood after dark (or at home, passing out those bags). Yet we don't get time off for this.

This year, it fell on a Saturday. I'd say that sounds like the best possible case.

We picked out our pumpkins at Nick's Garden Center, just like we did last year. We carved them the weekend before Halloween, which was maybe too early. Cub requested a transformer for his jack-o-lantern. It was a pretty huge hassle, but I managed to make something really cool. Then, a squirrel ate it.

We finally made it to Boo at the Zoo this year. We went the day of Halloween, and since that was a Saturday, it was pretty busy. Of course, like most events of this type, it was heavily sponsored by corporations. That didn't really bother the kids, though. They got a couple of pieces of logo-emblazoned garbage, but they also picked up a lot of candy. Interestingly, S was particularly excited about a pack of band-aids she got from a booth set up by in insurance provider. She got a blister on her toe, and used two of her band-aids that same day. Maybe she learned something about preparedness.

M didn't want to wear her costume because, as a zombie, her dress had a huge patch of fake blood... which was a little sticky. So, she skipped the costume for Boo at the Zoo, but wore it over regular clothes for our night-time, neighborhood trick-or-treat run. I think she was excited to be able to avoid the stickiness and the crazy makeup we used for zombie crawl.

This was the first Halloween for which the girls' daddy was in attendance. He dressed as a mad scientist. Papa dressed as grandma wolf (the wolf dressed up as grandma) and I was red riding hood. We had about 45 trick-or-treaters stop by our house. More than last year! Since we had toddlers, we came home a while before other kids were turning in for the night. So, the girls got to hand out treat bags (to their great excitement). I'm pretty sure we were the only house in the neighborhood who put treat bags together instead of just doling out candy from a bowl (or even straight from the bag).

I love Halloween.

Zombie Crawl

The news is out. This year's Zombie Crawl in Denver broke the record yet again with 45,000+ attendees. They collected hundreds of pounds of food for the local food bank. I'm proud to say that my family was there.

We were all dressed up as gross, grey zombies. I found this awesome tutorial on instructables for applying some fancy zombie makeup with normal household stuff. I will admit that I had to buy some colors of eye shadow that I don't normally own. Then, I found this helpful list of ways to make fake blood. We used the first recipe. Cub thought it was delicious.

We tore up our clothes and glued stuff to our faces and put eye shadow in places I'd normally never allow. That is, except for Cub. He did not want makeup on him at all. The whole process was unusual and loads of fun.

We got the clothes from the thrift store and the pile of stuff were were already going to throw out. So the kids got to go crazy, stomping things into the mud and cutting/ripping holes in things. The twins got to do some of their own makeup. We looked amazing, especially as a family.

The night before the crawl, I asked Cub what he wanted to wear. He specifically asked for a dress. So, Papa and I picked up a fluffy dress for him at the thrift store... something that would tear nicely. But, when we got it home, he fell in love with it and didn't want to ruin it. He wanted to wear it to bed. So, we picked a dress that had been retired to the play clothes box for him to soil instead.

When Papa took the twins to gymnastics the next day, some other parents were talking about the Zombie Crawl, saying they wish they could have gone. Papa said we went... and we took our kids. The other parents, a bit surprised, said they would definitely not take their kids. It would be too scary.

Our kids didn't enjoy that event, but not because it was scary. The costumes were fun and interesting. The problem was the lack of entertainment for them. 45,000+ people were there. We felt like we were being trampled more than half of the time. One end of the even was flooded with loud music and people, with nothing else of interest to be seen. We never made it to the other end of the event because of the crowd-induced chaos.

I emailed the even coordinators before we even floated the idea of attending. I asked if they thought that this would be the sort of event that kids would enjoy. Their website said there would be games, but wasn't clear about what that actually meant. I was assured that kids would love the Zombie Crawl, but probably not the "Organ Trail" scavenger hunt scheduled for earlier in the day.

We loved getting dressed up, getting dirty, getting messy, and putting crazy makeup on. The event itself was a huge flop for us. The kids only really enjoyed when we found a place to sit quietly and eat, away from the crowd. Cub probably had the least trouble with the crowd, because he was in a stroller and has no social fear. M, who tends to be much more shy, was overwhelmed but well-behaved. The twins just didn't have any fun because they couldn't go anywhere, do anything, or even see anything.

So, regardless of whether or not monster fear is an issue for your kids, I really wouldn't recommend the Zombie Crawl for children. Keep in mind that mind are 8 (S), 8 (C), 6 (M), and 2 (Cub). I saw several other kids there. Most of the kids I saw having any fun at all were probably at least 12.

A Difficult Six

We celebrated M's birthday the weekend before she actually turned six. Her birthday was on a Wednesday, and Papa and I are both gone all day on Wednesdays. We both leave the house at 7am. I drive to school and he goes to work. Then, we don't get home until after 5pm. Normally, birthdays that fall on weekdays get moved to the weekend after, that way we don't miss any cards or gifts that our far away relatives might have mailed. This year, though we had plans for the weekend after M's birthday: zombie crawl. Besides, we were having family visit for the weekend before her birthday. We like to share birthdays with family.

We don't make a big social event out of birthday parties. We don't send out invites or plan to have tons of guests. We have four kids - three birthdays - all in the fall/winter. We don't have that kind of budget. On a couple of occasions, though, birthdays have fallen near times when people were planning to visit for other reasons. So, we throw the party in while our guests are here.

Sometimes I ask what theme they want for the party. For M, I already knew. She checked out a book about sharks from the library and renewed it the maximum number of times, keeping it for 9 weeks. We read it multiple times. She learned (and actually retained) a lot of weird facts about sharks. Did you know that the outer layer of shark skin is made of tiny, tooth-like things called dermal denticles? Skin teeth. Seems like sharks are basically made of teeth. She was sad to see the book go.

So, M had a shark party.

I spend days making cakes and other baked goods for birthdays. I think I'm hoping that my kids will remember that when they're older. My mom says they'll remember that and think, "no way. I'm not baking cakes." That's okay. I just want them to remember how much I cared about their birthdays. Plus, I love baking.

Decorating is rewarding but stressful. Fondant is... torture that sometimes produces desirable results. But baking is relaxing. With three birthdays every year for the last 8.5 years, I've found some great cake and frosting recipes. I get better at decorating every time I try it, but... it's a slow process.

This year, I made cookies with royal icing t
o go with M's cake. I had never made or used royal icing before. The recipe I used didn't turn out quite as smooth as I would have liked. The cookies took an entire day to make and decorate from start to finish. They tasted okay. They were honestly kind of unremarkable, but they were worth making because now I can try again and do things a little differently until I get it right. You have to start somewhere.

We went to the fall festival before coming home for cake and cookies. She played in a giant hamster ball and a bounce house and ate festival food. I didn't take a lot of pictures of that. She had a great time and everyone was a bit sad when we had to go home. There were so many other things they wanted to do at the festival, but we didn't have time.

This year, Daddy got to be at her party. For a few years, he lived more than a thousand miles away, in Florida. Now, he lives five minutes away, in an apartment complex with a pool. They see him several times a week, now. They get to have dinner with him twice every week. He gets to be at their birthday parties.

M's six years old, now. She's really into sounding out new words and slowly adding new sight words to her vocabulary. She loves library books. She loves sharks and wants to learn to rock climb and go indoor skydiving. She likes to sit on the roof of the playhouse and talk to the kid on the other side of the back fence.

She's going through a bit of a regressive phase recently. Daddy has told me that "regressive phase" is a nice way of saying it. For the last couple of months, she refuses to do what we ask her to do. She pouts, whines and throws fits in "baby talk". She briefly decided that if we asked her to go somewhere, she would, instead, grab on to the nearest large object and refuse to move. She looks frustratingly pleased with herself (or maybe with our reactions) as she does these things.

So, predictably, she gets timeouts. We have always had timeouts for fit-throwing and disobeying. We make an effort to distinguish between requests and commands, and commands are mandatory. If she refuses to respond to a command, we warn her of the possibility of a timeout. If she continues to refuse, she gets a timeout. Her timeouts are now 6 minutes long.

Consistency seems to be helping. It sure helps me retain my sanity, just knowing what comes next. I'm sure she just wants more attention. There's a lot going on around here. She has the twins as older sisters, and they have each other. She has the Cub as a baby brother, and he gets a lot of adult attention because he's potty training and always in things he shouldn't be. I'm at school twice a week, Papa is at work five days a week, Daddy is at school and busy most of the time. I imagine she feels pretty alone.

I'm going to try to work on that.

Hanging Lake

Hanging Lake - joshuahicks

It's a place I've wanted to go for years. But, you know, there are places you can drive to on your day off, and there are places you can fly to on vacation. Then there are places you never go because they're somewhere in between. They're too far away to want to drive there for a day trip, but too close to justify a vacation. Hanging Lake is one of those places.

I didn't realize, when I moved to Colorado, that a lot of the beautiful places I loved when I was a kid would be on that list, actually. It was easier to go on long road trips on summer vacation to see the Rockies than it is to find the time to visit them now that I live here.

Having lived in Hawaii, I should have seen it coming. People who have been on vacation in Hawaii often ask how awesome it was to live there. Not. It was not awesome. It was expensive and the only houses I could afford to buy didn't have central AC, so it was hot. Just living there left me so broke I could barely do anything. You vacationers went to Hawaii to do things. I could not afford to do things.

Living in Colorado presents basically the same problem, but with a different currency: time.

Papa and I were finally motivated to go on this hike, 3 hours from my house. One of the ladies I went backpacking with wanted to go. She's from Texas. She moved to Colorado for school, which is pretty weird because my college is mostly populated with sensible people who live nearby. She's graduating in December, and wanted to see Hanging Lake before she goes back to Texas. Funny how it takes something like that to motivate me to do something I've been wanting to do for myself for years.

The lady we went with is a few years older than me, and was homeschooled when she was a kid. It's no surprise that we bonded while backpacking. We're both studying biology and, besides, we shared a tent.

We didn't take the kids. Hanging Lake trail is almost 2 miles long in one direction, and gains 1050 feet in elevation. About halfway up, we saw a woman being evacuated on a stretcher (with a single bicycle wheel to aid in the descent. I had never seen one of those before). Day Hikes Near Denver says, "Close to the one-mile point, you'll climb a steep staircase of rock complete with handrails. While the handrails are helpful, it would be easy for a child to slip over one. So, we'd recommend that you keep your smaller children on the inside of the steps as you ascend and hold their hand. It's a sheer drop on the other side of the handrail." ... I can't even imagine.

The hike was beautiful and fun. I'm glad we went with a friend. If you go, don't overlook the little offshoot trail called "Spouting Rock". I think people go to Hanging Lake with an end point in mind and maybe don't realize what they're missing. At the lake, you can see a lake. There are falls on the other side and the water is remarkably clear. There are little fish swimming around in it and it's mesmerizing, but it's not terribly interactive. DO NOT WALK ON THE LOG!

But at Spouting Rock... you can walk under a tall waterfall and yell at your hiking companions because the sound of the rushing water hitting the rocks is just too loud for normal communication. It's maybe not as strikingly beautiful, but it is more fun.

I took lots of pictures of the lake, but none of my pictures do it justice. It really is beautiful. I guess I was a bit disappointed that it had a boardwalk built around the edge, like so many popular hikes do. I know, these things are necessary, to preserve the natural beauty and biodiversity and all. They just aren't attractive. I was also sad to see some garbage washed under the boardwalk... *sigh* humans.

All in all, I highly recommend this hike... but maybe not for your kids (though I did see kids on the trail who were... doing okay I guess).

We Did the Volcano Thing

One of our awesome, amazing, lovely family members got us a subscription to something really cool thing that I didn't even know existed. If you're homeschooling, you might love this, too. It's the Magic School Bus, Young Scientist Club.

We've been receiving their bubble-packed envelopes for most of a year, and I can now tell you that they are definitely worth it. If I were a little better at planning, I could organize our school schedule to focus on the topics in that month's Magic School Bus kit. They email in advance to let you know what the topic will be and what you will need in order to perform the experiments. Unfortunately, as I have detailed before, my life is a bit of a mess lately... sometimes it feels like an endless train wreck that I can do nothing to avoid, and just have to clean up after when the dust finally settles. So, there are envelopes we haven't opened and experiments we haven't done.

Some of the "experiments" aren't really... experimental. In one of our first envelopes, we got (among many other things) a card-stock print of a leg, cut in half at the knee, a couple of bits of string and a brass brad. We attached the two leg segments with the brad and taped the ends of the pieces of string so that one end attached to the lower half and one to the upper. I gather this was supposed to replicate the muscles moving the parts of the leg. As a biologist-in-training, I felt the need to explain that this was very simplified and... not really how this works. Still, it was a great conversation starter that resulted in education points that don't generally come up on their own.

My favorite so far was the most stereotypical science fair experiment ever: making and erupting a volcano. (obviously, there's a reason people love this one)

The instructions for the volcano experiment come in different phases. First, you build the structure with a small soda bottle and paper mache. The instructions are specific about what size of bottle, so you don't end up with a bottle too big for your solution to explode from. The kit doesn't include the bottle, but does come with tough construction paper to build your cone-shape and some powdered black paint. A lot of what you need comes from your kitchen: Flour, water and a bowl to make your paper mache, and vinegar, baking soda, red food coloring, soap and measuring cups/spoons for the "lava".

After you've built the volcano, your kids will slowly become more and more impatient before (maybe) just giving up all together, while you wait for it to dry completely before using it. It takes... days. You build it and you wait a long time... then you paint it and you wait another long time. Or at least that's how ours went. It's possible that my kids were overzealous with the mache and paint. They were incredibly excited about the project.

But before you explode your volcano, you've got some work (read: learning) to do. I bet you thought you were just going to follow some directions with specific quantities and get the perfect, explosive solution. Not so fast. The Magic School Bus directions don't make it that simple. Instead, they tell you what to put in, but not how much, and give you a few different blank spaces to write out what you used each time so you can come up with the ideal solution on your own. (we used a camelback bottle for our preliminaries so the kids could see what was happening inside)

I think that was the best part. We talked about how baking soda and vinegar react with one another and explained that you could use that knowledge to figure out if you needed more baking soda or more vinegar. Take the puddle of already reacted mess and add a little baking soda to one area. Does it react a lot? Now add vinegar to another area. Does that react more or less?

We came up with our perfect solution and put it in our volcano. It was amazing, and even the Cub loved it. And with all of those mixture tests we did on the front room floor, the hardwood is super sanitary now.

First Time Tenting

It's mid-term season. Time to panic and study a lot. Apparently, it's also a good time for everyone to get sick. I missed an important day of training at the zoo because I had some kind of 24 hour stomach bug. I also missed an important day of standing in the passport line at the post office because I chose, instead, to spend that day waiting at an urgent care clinic so I could get an antibiotic prescription.

I managed to make up the passport day, but I'm still not sure when I'll get to make up the zoo training. Oh well. It could have been worse. At least I was lucky enough to have Papa stay home so I could rest. He even called in for me. Sweet guy.

Now, I want to take a moment to revisit some of the good times.

About a month ago, before all of this mid-term/sick business started, we all went camping with some friends. We had been trying to figure out how to go since the Cub started sleeping through the night, but kept talking ourselves out of it. How do you take a little guy camping with you? Was he going to sleep in a pack-n-play? What if he wouldn't sleep? What would we feed him? How are we all going to fit in our tent with a pack-n-play anyway?

Now, he's been sleeping in a toddler bed for months and eating what we eat for well over a year, but we didn't like the odds: 2 adults vs 4 small children, so we continued our holding pattern. Then, we realized that we have some amazing friends who also love camping and being outdoors. Who'd have guessed that we'd be friends with people like us?

They picked the camp site, helped us out with some gear and brought camp food. In fact, they handled a lot of the logistics, and I don't think we could have done it without them. Their preparedness allowed us to spend our time watching the kids and enjoying the experience. It was the first time the kids had been camping at all, and the first time I had been camping since I was a kid.

There's a learning curve. Just like playing video games, using new lab equipment, tap dancing and baking, it's probably best to take your kids camping for the first time with people who have a lot of recent experience with kids and camping (if not combined, then separately). I'm thankful we had some help. Besides, these people are good company.

We had a lot of fun. The kids explored the wilderness with practically every moment they could. They also got a lot of entertainment out of a glow stick and some red flash lights once the sun went down. We built a fire, roasted marshmallows and made s'mores. We all had/got to pee in the woods.

That, by the way, is a unique adventure. I think every kid should get to do it. The Cub is potty trained, and will stand to pee in the grass, but he relied on his potty the whole time we were out. Papa and I had to find places to dump/bury the contents. The girls, however, all took care of business like the grown ups... with only one, unfortunate incident.

We slept like sardines in our "6 person" tent. The Cub only complained that he wanted his bed for several minutes before passing out and sleeping the whole night through in his mummy bag. The girls all claim that sharing a tent with him was the worst part of the weekend, but I can't really imagine how.

It was cold and frosty when we woke up. It was definitely nearing the end of the campable season for leisure campers like us. The mummy bags we borrowed from our friends were lifesavers in the cold night, but the morning view was beautiful. Probably my favorite part of camping is waking up with the sun and enjoying the scenic sunrise. I always feel more awake after camping than I do at home.

We played and explored for the day, headed back down the mountain a bit for lunch, and then went home. The kids were all a little disappointed to be going home. I'm sure they're excited to go camping again, but we won't be able to sleep in that tent again until the warm weather comes back.

Pura Vida: No Worries

Photo: http://www.visitcostarica.com/

Every new thing I do is the new most amazing thing I've ever done. In January, I'm going to Costa Rica! I found out on the the 3rd (a week ago as I'm writing this) that I my application was accepted for a class that involved a biology research trip to Costa Rica. I didn't have time to be excited until now (and I barely have time, now).

I got an acceptance email on Thursday. I had a weekend backpacking trip to prepare for because I was leaving Friday. Then, I was gone until Sunday afternoon. The backpacking trip was part of a class, so I was busy learning and working my butt off all weekend, but it was one of the best weekends I've had in a long time.

When I came home from the trip, I had some "being a good friend" to do. Someone I care a lot about was in need of love and support. I love to love the people I care about. Don't get me wrong, it's sad when they really need it because I hate to see them hurting. Still, it makes me feel good when one of my friends come to me when they need something.

Anyway, Monday, I had no classes because it was Labor Day, so we took the kids to the zoo. Yes, the zoo, after I had just hiked more than a dozen miles with a 35lb backpack. I said I would, so I did... after I dosed myself with ibuprofen.

Tuesday, I went back to the zoo for an adult volunteer meeting. Then, I took a class designed to teach me the basics of front gate work, so I can volunteer to be that awesome, bubbly person who greets you and takes your tickets. I had planned to go grocery shopping after that, but the class ran long and I didn't have time. So, I was home for a little while before I went back to campus to take the test for my Outdoor Ethics class.

Wednesday, I had classes from 8am to 4:45pm and an online math quiz to take when I got home.

So, today....

Today, I'm finally trying to take a moment to let this sink in.

Reasons this is amazing:

1. I've never been out of the country before. 
2. Dr. Carello is my hero, and she's one of the professors who runs this trip. 
3. This will look great when I'm looking for a job after I graduate.
4. It sounds like it's going to be incredibly fun, not just academic.
5. 110 species of bats are known to live in Costa Rica, including fruit bats and vampire bats.
6. 52 species of hummingbirds.
7. There are over 300 different endangered species in Costa Rica. 
8. Seven active volcanoes.
9. Supposedly, older natives are pretty short so furniture is about 6 inches shorter there... I'm gonna fit right in. 

I'M 

SO

EXCITED!

Nature Nerding

How do you relax, recharge, and reconnect? It's Labor Day. It seems like this is the weekend when just about everyone tries to do those things. For most holidays, we invite family into our homes for celebrations, or go to their homes instead. We decorate and plan and cook and it can be crazy stressful. Labor Day is just different for most people.

We often spend Labor Day outside: at a park, in an open space... probably near some water. A few years ago, before Cub was born, we spend Labor Day teaching the girls about directions and compass use in a big park. Last year, I took the kids to an open space near our neighborhood, we packed a lunch, ate under a huge tree, and played in a creek. This year, I went backpacking with a group of other college students.

I'm taking a class called Outdoor Ethics and Leadership. We learned a little about map and compass use, and a lot about leave no trace camping. The class consisted of three girls and three boys with a professor and a student aid. It was amazing.

Probably the most important skill I got to practice and reinforce within myself was patience.

I don't think I could have asked for a better group of peers, but there was one member of our team who was a little less helpful and sometimes even a bit frustrated (and frustrating). The rest of us proved (for ourselves and each other) over an over again that a certain level of maturity and patience was the best way to deal with a bad attitude. After all, we were all there to help each other.

From little things like being physically incapable of getting your water bottle back into its pocket because it's behind you to bigger things like wounding yourself on the trail, we all need help. We help each other pitch tents, set up tarps, cook food, find a place to potty in the dark, get our packs back on, filter our water, wash our hands (someone has to hold the bar of soap for you when you're getting water from a canvas bag hanging from a tree), and understand the ethics of leave no trace camping. We put up with each other's snoring, tossing and turning in the night, lagging behind on the trail, and speeding ahead.

We didn't really know each other before this weekend, but I feel like I know these people better now than I do some of my friends. I actually think I know myself better now. And, as a parent, and a friend, I can see that I have changed, at least temporarily.

Five-Year-Olds: The struggle is real

I took my kids on a short bike ride this morning. There's a park .06 miles from my house. Just over four blocks away. Google says it should take 12 minutes to walk there, 3 minutes to bike. I love my bike, especially now that I have that nifty child seat for my toddler who loves the wind in his curls, but is growing so fast that he's possibly already too big for his seat.

There is construction on the street we normally use to get to the park, so traffic is down to one, very narrow lane. The other road we could take is much busier, so it can be stressful to take the smaller kiddos that direction. I laid out the options and we voted. It was unanimous, we would take the less busy road, despite the construction. C even presented a compelling argument: Cub would love to see the construction vehicles. Love these kids.

I'll gloss over the process of getting everyone ready because I'm pretty sure anyone who has even been near a person trying to get multiple kids ready for anything is aware of how that goes. This was one of the easier rodeos, but not worth breaking down for you.

Lunch in backpacks, shoes on feet, diaper bag packed, flat tires pumped up (how is it that 1/6 to 1/3 of their bike tires seem to always be flat despite my persistent replacement of inner tubes?), we're ready to go.

But M got a new, bigger bike recently and she's still pretty uncomfortable. She just learned to ride a bike this summer, and then we replaced her bike because she learned on a bike that she had already out-grown. We bought that bike for her over a year ago, when she first wanted to learn.

I know that google's estimated 3 minutes is unrealistic for a group of children being lead by a mom with a toddler attached to her handlebars. I wasn't concerned about time. But it wound up taking us somewhere between 20 and 30 minutes to get to the park... longer than google says it would take us to walk. 

Thankfully, the construction workers were very patient and positive. They suggested we use the road instead of the sidewalk. Given the circumstance, that made sense to me because of the various barriers, signs, and cones that might be in the way on the sidewalk and because sharing such a small road and sidewalk space, side-by-side with vehicles would be more dangerous. They stopped the cars while we got through the two blocks of road work on our bikes.

M gave up and tossed her bike to the ground multiple times on the way to the park, refusing to try again until I talked her out of her rage. In fact, she tried to quit at the opening to the one-lane road created by the construction zone. I was incredibly embarrassed, but the men with the signs were encouraging. One told M, "don't get in a hurry. Just take your time." How sweet.

We had a nice enough time at the park. M practiced on her bike and was just fine on the paths and the tennis court. She was even excited to show me how good she's getting at turning. We had a picnic lunch and played on the equipment. Still, by the time we got home, I was really tired of M's rage quit attitude while biking. She's fine when she is totally in control and without boundaries, she's definitely capable enough to handle planned bike rides. She doesn't seem to think that.

Of course, when you're out on your bike, you can't just quit. You've got to get home somehow. So, instead of quitting once and having it over with, she quits, I talk her back onto her bike for a few minutes, and she quits again... etc.

*sigh* That's enough of that.

What?

Conflict Resolution. I think these might be buzz words for our entire adult lives. I haven't been an adult for that long, but it doesn't seem like conflict resolution is ever going to stop being a topic of conversation.

Major political decisions are made with conflict resolution in mind. Thus, the way an individual deals with conflict can decide his or her political leanings. Conflict resolution can decide who your friends are and aren't, what activities you participate in, how far you're able to push for personal success, and how happy your entire life is. In my mind, I can't imagine a more significant and consistently useful tool, and it is learned in early childhood. In fact, watch out, because your kids will learn it accidentally (and maybe incorrectly) if you aren't teaching it to them deliberately.

I put the tent up in the back yard for my kids to play. I've done this a few times before, and it's generally fine. For some reason, today, the twins kept running into disagreements. For example: C wanted the windows open so she could see the butterflies in the garden. S wanted them closed, so C pushed S away from the windows. S came stomping toward the house declaring that she hates the tent.

This was a perfect opportunity to first point out that she doesn't hate the tent, she's just angry, then turn her back around and insist that she talk to her sister about what just happened. "Stomping off doesn't solve anything." But it's like pulling teeth, trying to get eight-year-old sister to talk about their disagreements. I feel like this is an incarnation of snake charming. I have to perform some special song in just the right way to get their words to come out... one... sentence... at a time.

The conversation went something like this:

Me: Tell your sister what happened.
C: She knows what happened.
Me: That's not the point. You still need to tell her.
C: She was closing the window.
Me: Tell her, not me.
C: You were closing the window.
Me: Now, why was that a problem?
C: Because she knew I was trying to catch butterflies.
Me: Tell her, not me.

You can probably imagine how the rest of it went.

Then, half an hour later, we had another kerfuffle. After prying that whole previous conversation out of both of them, I immediately felt the heavy burden of parenting being thrust upon me with the offended whine as the screen door closed behind C.

I guess S did a cartwheel in the tent, so she kicked C in the stomach because there's not really enough space for that. Instead of telling her what happened, C stormed off. I'd have liked to have thrown my hands in the air, tilted my face toward the ceiling, and exclaimed (to no one in particular), "No one listens to me!" I thought those things. But I said this: "Did you tell her what happened?"

Of course, C replied, "She knows what happened."

At this point, S came in and I set up the conversation so that I was pretending to be C, so C could see why it is important to tell what happened, even if you think the other person knows.

Me: You did a cartwheel in the tent, right?
S: Yeah.
Me: You did a cartwheel in the tent and you kicked me in the stomach.
S: Oh.
Me: Did you know that?
S: I do now.
Me: You did a cartwheel in the tent, so you kicked me in the stomach. Now, I think we shouldn't do cartwheels in the tent anymore.
S: Okay.

Sure, I reiterated the facts more times that I probably needed to, but the basis for the conflict resolution method I'm trying to teach them is this: What? So What? Now What?

What started this? You did a cartwheel in the tent.
So what happened? So, you kicked me in the stomach.
Now what should we do? Now, I think we shouldn't do cartwheels in the tent anymore.

I explained those steps to them and that I know it's hard to have these conversations. However, I think this method is very helpful because you can make a very convincing argument, and usually come to a mutually agreed-upon solution.

What? So what? Now what? is a useful angle for dealing with a number of things. Here is a Forbes article that explains how to use this method to turn data into appropriate actions. These questions also make great tools for reflecting on your work. What did you do? So, what did you learn or accomplish? Now, what direction should you go from here? There are lots of ways to consider these three questions, it would be impractical to try to list them all, but I think if you use the questions and a guide for untangling messy conflict, you'll find that they help, and they're so easy to remember. I hope to help my kids memorize them so they have a safety net for dealing with difficult situations.

Don't Let Me Get Me

I bought some of those Brain Quest work books, on sale,  at the grocery store the other day. I made some copies of pages from the Language Arts section of the second grade book. Wednesday, we sat down with them and had a review session. We talked about parts of speech I know we had talked about before, but probably forgotten. We practiced writing and how to form a statement vs a question. We reviewed punctuation and capitalization (which, I'm not gonna lie, I've told them all about a dozen times before, but still watch them flagrantly disregard).

The biggest obstacle we are having in our late summer refresher so far is this: ourselves.

C blasted right through the worksheets without much trouble, and only a few reminders. (ex: Tiny A is not a lower case a.) But S, who was doing just as well as C, was crying like writing sentences was painful. She could identify the common nouns, proper nouns, and pronouns. She could tell me how to order the words in the word bank to form a statement or a question. She could tell me which pronoun works best in each scenario. She was just writing like her pencil was the blood quill Umbridge uses on Harry Potter (okay. It wasn't that bad.)

It is my job to be patient and non-judgmental. I have not always been good at this, but I know I've gotten better. I repeatedly encouraged her with observations like, "Look, that's a really good spacing between your words. You've already improved." and, "Yes! That is how you make a lower case A, and you figured it out on your own!" I deliberately didn't correct every mistake, thinking I would choose our battles sparingly and we would have plenty of opportunities to cover everything else some other time. Spare her some stress. Still, the process seemed to be killing her.

So, we went through the worksheets, skipping the writing, to see if she got the concepts. Then, I gave her a sheet of paper with the standard, capital and lower-case, alphabet on it and this sentence: "The five boxing wizards jump quickly."

That sentence lightened the mood. How silly. Wizards?! It's just a random pangram I picked in order to give her practice writing sentences while she also writes all of her letters (especially the lower-case ones, because she's pretty much got the capitals down). After I got an accidental laugh out of her, and stopped asking her to do what she perceived as real work, as opposed to just informal practicing, things calmed down a lot. The worksheets were too serious. No matter how I tried to remind her that this was just between me and her and it was just good practice, she was kicking herself for making mistakes.

I told her it reminded me of that P!nk song from 2001, Don't Let Me Get Me. "Don't let me get me. I'm my own worst enemy. It's bad when you annoy yourself. So irritating. Don't wanna be my friend no more. I wanna be somebody else."

Copying a sentence about wizards cheered her up and she was still able to show me that she has all the skills we were trying to review today. Unfortunately, this exercise reminded me of why public school scares me a bit. Would her teacher have had the time or understanding to defuse this situation and find a way for S to get around it? Maybe. Maybe not.

They Want To Try Public School

How does anyone who has kids full-time ever blog?! All you other home-school bloggers are obviously wizards.

The twins want to try public school. I rode my bike (because I guess I'm that kind of person) to the administrative office, where there was no bike rack (because I guess there aren't that many of us). I went in expecting to talk to someone about options for my girls because they've been home-schooled for their entire education so far, and one of them has special, medical considerations. Instead, I found a room that reminded me of the social security office. You come in with your enrollment paperwork and turn it in at the desk, where they review it and your proof documents and send you on your way.

When I tried to ask who I should talk to about my concerns, they suggested I just enroll my kids and then talk to someone. What? "I don't want to enroll them. I want to talk to someone about our situation and our options first." I was directed to another woman who gave me two phone numbers. One, which was supposed to be the direct line to the special education coordinator, turned out to be the home number of someone with an entirely different name. The other, the office number, did get me through to the coordinator, who said she isn't the person I need to talk to.

She said I need to talk to my local school about a 504 plan, after asking if we already had a 504 plan. I had never heard of a 504 plan, because I home-school my kids and we've never needed a legal document that "spells out the modifications and accommodations that will be needed" (special children) for my kids to be able to perform at the same level as their peers. I am their teacher, their nurse, their principal. My multiple personalities don't need to sit down and agree on terms.

So, I called my local school. I told them our situation. I explained what I had heard so far. At this point, I still didn't know what a 504 was, I just used the term in this context: "the special education lady said I need a 504." Again, I was asked if we already have a 504. Again, I reiterated that we are home-schooling, and, though I don't even know what a 504 is, it sounds like a public school paperwork thing... so... no. And, again, I heard that I need to just enroll my kids and then talk to someone about their needs. I said, "I think that seems a little excessive. I'm not prepared to enroll them without knowing what we're getting ourselves into." So, I was forwarded to the 504 coordinator. So, I got to introduce myself as a "concerned parent" yet again, and explain our home-schooling/medical needs situation... again.

Finally, someone told me what a friggin' 504 is... but only after she asked if we already have one. I finally just said, "I don't even know what it is. Like I said, we home-school, so we don't have any public school paperwork except what says we don't go to public school. I just heard I needed one." At this point, I'm thinking the more I have to deal with these people the less I trust them to educate my kids.

The 504 coordinator said we could set up a time for me to come in and talk to the nurse about what our 504 would look like. We could figure out, in advance, what would be in our plan, but we couldn't write it up until after the girls are enrolled. This makes a lot more sense to me. You can't write up a legal agreement for a kid who isn't even associated with the school yet.

However... it'll be a few days before I even hear back from the 504 coordinator to try to schedule a time because they share the nurse with three other schools and they don't know exactly when they'll see her again in order to find out when she's available. She doesn't have a phone? An email address? What if she's at another school and you have a kid with a broken limb or something? I understand the pressures that result in sharing a nurse among several, nearby schools... but if you're going that route, how are you not able to contact her when she's not in her office?

The more I think about it, the less I like this public school business.

Utah Was Surprising

When I was in elementary school, learning US geography, Utah was one of the states I had the most trouble placing on the map. I could never remember the order of all those little fiddly bits on the East coast, either... but Utah?! It's huge! I wish I could remember exactly what I said when I first heard that, for our family vacation this year, we were going to Utah. It's not a state I had ever been to before, so check one off on my list I guess. Still, it wasn't a state I ever thought I needed to see. What's the big deal about Utah? Mormons, you say? So what?

"We're going to be staying in Park City." When I learned that our resort was right by the Olympic park from the 2002 Winter Olympics, my attitude wasn't much improved, honestly. I couldn't really imagine what would be interesting about a has-been sports park turned into a tourist attraction. My feelings about that haven't really changed, and I would never want to live in Utah, but I did find love for the largest state I had hardly thought about before.

Utah is beautiful. Salt Lake City is basically just a city. It's on a surprising flat piece of land surrounded by foothills and plateaus. It's all of the stuff around Salt Lake City that is beautiful.

On our vacation, we made time for horseback riding and shooting, both in striking, but very different, landscapes. We also did less rural things like watching a fourth of July parade, going to the zoo, and the obligatory visit to the Olympic park. Most of those activities were shared with family members we don't get to see more than a few times each year (some we see even less). And, at the end of each day, we all went home to two cottages we shared with those same people we love.

There was some trouble with planning this year. With twenty-something people, including eight kids, it's really more noteworthy when there aren't planning issues. I mean, I sometimes feel like I need a manager and personal assistant and I only have the four kids. Some of us have a lot of wrangling to do before we can get out the door, while others might not understand that struggle. Some of us are a little less schedule oriented than others. Plus, I think staying in two separate cottages complicated communication. In the end, I don't think it matters because we all had a good time.