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Sometimes that best way to pass the time on a cold and rainy day is to look back on a sunny day filled with family memories. This sunny day was Sunday August 3rd. It was opening weekend at the county fair and the day before my 35th birthday. I treasure this day and all the fun I had with my family.
It started with Ariel. Ariel who just turned 3. Ariel who gave up her tricycle for a big girl bike less then a month ago. She wanted her training wheels off. At first we dismissed the idea, and then I said, "Why not?"
Jeff brought out the tools and went to work on her bike. At first Belle showed little interest in riding her bike without training wheels. She watched Ariel as she teetered and balanced. She watched her little sister do something for the first time, something Belle was not ready to try yet. It didn't take long before Belle wanted her training wheels off too.
One thing I learned today is that Jeff is an excellent teacher. The girls wanted their Daddy. They prefer Jeff's strong support, technique that keeps them balanced, and the soothing way in which he instructs them. Jeff was a superstar today. He gave each of the girls his loving support and attention. I watched as their apprehension turned to pure joy. The joy of growing up. The joy of freedom.
By the end of the day the training wheels were back on both of their bikes. I think they enjoyed the experience, but love the speed and stability that comes with training wheels even more.
Ironically both girls crashed their bikes in the late afternoon when their training wheels were back on. Ariel ran into a mail box, but absorbed most of the impact with her helmet. Belle tipped over and skinned both her knees. It goes to show - bike safety has less to do with training wheels and everything to do with watching where you are going.
I made a resolution. I committed. I persevered through injury, bad weather and inconvenient schedules. I am so close.
Earlier this month I found out that the race I wanted to run is not a traditional 5K. Instead it is a 1 mile run, 10 mile bike ride, 2 mile run biathlon. I was expecting the bike ride, but I thought it would be at either end or the run. I planned on having Jeff do the bike ride and I would do the run. We would be a relay team. The girls would cheer for us and be there for the beginning, relay moment and completion of the race. A perfect family experience.
I'm a flexible person. I adjusted my plans and goals. Three weeks ago I said, "No problem! I can do the biathlon by myself."
All this month I have been alternating bike ride days with running days. On my bike ride days I have been commuting to work on my bicycle. It is hard work. My body aches. My back hurts. My shoulder is in knots. I am in pain.
Yesterday my husband said, "Monday is Memorial Day. Is your Biathlon on Saturday or Sunday?"
"What? This weekend?!? NO!"
This is not how a working woman should respond to the announcement of a three day weekend.
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Every morning I kiss my sleeping husband good-bye before I go to work. This morning Ariel was sleeping in the bed with him. Usually I leave her alone, but today she was practically falling out of the bed so I moved her to safety. She woke up.
"Mommy! Don't go to work. Waaaah!"
I took her downstairs and showed her a calender. "Today is Thursday. Mommy goes to work on Thursday. I will go to work tomorrow too. But look at this; Saturday, Sunday, and Monday Mommy will be home. Only two days and then Mommy will be home for three days."
As I say this I think about the race. The biathlon that will eat into my Sunday and surely tear my body apart and leave me useless for the rest of the weekend.
As I drove to work I recalled last years Memorial Day. The biathlon is part of a church picnic. This picnic is one of my favorite activities of the year. the church uses the local high school and sets up jump houses, pony ride and a stage with entertainment. They offer free food, cotton candy and kettle corn. All this takes place during the biathlon. If I participate in this race I miss out on some great quality time with my family.
So I am not doing it.
I am doing this instead.
Have a great weekend.
I know I will.
I can't walk. It started yesterday after my run. At first it was a dull annoying pain. Within a couple of hours I was limping. I went to bed last night hoping that a good nights sleep would make all the difference.
I woke up this morning and before I moved a muscle I prayed, "God, please let the pain be gone. I really want to take the kids to the park today." I stepped out of bed, and felt fine. Praise the Lord. Fifteen minutes later I was not fine anymore.
I googled "common running injury". My symptoms of dull or sharp pain anywhere along the back of the tendon, but usually close to the heel resulted in a self-diagnosis of Achilles Tendonitis.
I have an inflamed Achilles tendon caused by poor stretching and excessive hill running. To get better I need to stop running, avoid weight-bearing movements, take ibuprofen for 7 days, ice the area to reduce inflammation and keep it elevated whenever possible.
It is sunny and 78 degrees today. It is spring. Tomorrow and for the next 6 days we are expecting highs in the 50's and rain. One perfect day of spring and I need to stay immobile. I really have no choice. I cannot afford to have this injury linger. One week from tomorrow I will escape the rain of the Pacific Northwest for the sun of Mexico. I have to sacrifice this one spring day so I can enjoy the use of my legs for one whole week in Mexico.
I have never been good at restraining myself. We went to the park. Jeff usually grocery shops on Saturdays, but he sacrificed for us. I guess that is what a family does. Each sacrificing a little of themselves so as a whole we can experience a unity that brings joy and memories. In five years the memory of the perfect spring day at the park will remain with me. I hope that my tendonitis will not.
My children are slipping away from me. Not in a noticeable alarming way, but in an insidious unstoppable way that time puts in motion and I am powerless to stop.
Karen Kingsbury wrote a beautiful children’s book called "Let me Hold You Longer" . This book quickly brings tears to my eyes and by the end of the story I am usually blubbering. My children don’t seem to notice my sobbing, because the illustrations are fun and entertaining. This is what Karen has to write:
"Long ago you came to me, a miracle of firsts; First smiles and teeth and baby steps, a sunbeam on the burst.
But one day you will move away and leave to me your past, And I will be left thinking of a lifetime of your lasts ...
The last time that I held a bottle to your baby lips,
The last time that I lifted you and held you on my hip.
The last night when you woke up crying, needing to be walked.
When last you crawled up with your blanket, wanting to be rocked."
While at the park they ask me to push them on the swings, catch them at the bottom of the slide, help them play baseball and set up a picnic. Meanwhile I snapped 165 pictures of our glorious spring day.
Suddenly, I notice that there are no children over the age of six on the playground. All the older kids are on the soccer fields following the instruction of their coaches, playing with their friends. Their parents stand idly on the sidelines.
I realized that I should never tell my girls that I am too busy to push them on the swing, or that they don’t need me to catch them at the bottom of the slide. They might not need me, but for now they want me.If you catch the flu and have to stay home from work it might actually be convenient for your spouse to be sick too. Recent studies* have found that two sick parents are roughly equivalent to one healthy parent.
It is recommended that ill parents hide all the "kitchen" toys so the children don't try to "take care of" the parents by making pretend foods that add to the nauseousness of the parents.
*non-scientific study performed on 3/4/2008, results might be slightly skewed due to the delirious nature of the adult test subjects.
On Sunday, while you were watching the Super Bowl, I was surrounded by snakes. Our church hosted the biggest party I’ve ever been to. They had bounce houses, crafts, games, food, a reptile show, and an important football game that played on a couple of big screens.
Now back to the snakes. I thought it would be fun for Belle and Ariel to see the reptile show. We arrived late and sat towards the back. The handler had just put away a lizard and was pulling out a Boa Constrictor. Ariel loved the snake and wanted to sit closer to the front. Since Ariel is not very tall and we were at a church event, I didn’t mind her moving up to the second row without me. The people around didn’t mind either. My little two-year old, with a stuffed sheep tucked under her arm, was met by, “Oh, how cute,” and “You can sit here.” This put a smile on my face, until they brought out the cobra.
The handler explained that a cobra is attracted to movement. “So whatever you do, don’t move,” he cautioned.
Um, excuse me, couldn’t he of said that before he put away the slow moving Boa and brought out a very irritated cobra? At ten feet away from my baby, all I could do is not move and pray to God that she didn’t move either. God must have been close enough to hear my prayers, because Ariel sat perfectly still as the cobra was brought within striking distance of her.
Once the cobra was put away, I breathed a sigh of relief and focused on Belle. Her eyes were as big as saucers. “Mommy, what is that sound?” she asked.
“Well Hon, that sounds like a rattlesnake,” I answered as the fear began to rise in me again.
“I don’t like rattlesnakes,” she trembled.
“Neither do I, but it’s important to look at that snake and listen to that sound,” I explained. “If you ever see a snake like that and hear that sound you know to move slowly away from it.”
I spent the rest of the show keeping one eye on my curious two-year old while making sure my four-year old learned everything she needed to know about dangerous reptiles. I am grateful for the education. I saw a cottonmouth for the first time and learned that a snapping turtle can bite off your finger. I also learned that God blessed me with two very different daughters. One who is keenly interested in all creatures and the other who has the sense to know that she SHOULD be afraid of snakes.
The picture that I posted for Wordless Wednesday got a lot of attention. I want to thank my husband for editing the photo. He did a fabulous job. Jeff was also the man behind the camera. I appreciate that. Not only because he is truly gifted with a camera but because while he was snapping away I was playing with my children.
These photo's were taken on the first day of our Christmas Vacation in the middle of our 12 hour road trip to California. We stopped at Caldwell Park in Redding so the kids, dogs, Jeff and I could run 
and play. I have very fond memories of this park. This is the second time we have stopped here. I think it will be a place that our children remember because once or twice a year we will continue to stop here.
Do you have any places like this from your childhood. A place where you visited infrequently, but is filled with memories? A place that sticks in your mind and as an adult you seek it out so you can see if it is as spectacular as you remembered.
My childhood place is Dennis the Menace Park in Monterey, California. When I was a child my aunt lived in Salinas. When we visited her she would take us to this park. If you 
are ever in the area, you should visit. It is truly as wonderful as I remember.
Caldwell Park in Redding does not have a great playground like Dennis the Menace Park. Caldwell Park has open spaces with old trees. It is a place where the four of us bind together as a family with the singular objective of having fun. It is a place where we stick together and create our own adventure. Our experiences at this park define our family. We love each other and we enjoy our time together.
When I look at these pictures I realize that I am living the life I always wanted with the family I dreamed I would have.
*This last picture was taken on our July visit.
We arrived home last night from our rather lengthly vacation. When we walked through our door Belle said to me, "My house! I thought I would never see it again!"
We had a wonderful time, rather than bombard you with all the details, I present...
Vacation Statistics:
We were in California for 11 days.
Drove 1753 miles with 2 kids and 2 dogs.
Visited with 24 different families in 8 towns.
And recorded the adventure with 1061 pictures on our new SLR digital camera
The drive home on New Years Day was accomplished on 3 hours of sleep, took 14 hours, and included 5 doses of cold medicine for the children.
I now have access to the internet, so I can sort through the 259 unread items in my Google Reader. I hope to start posting again soon, but for now I leave you with Picture number 857.
Sunny and 38 degrees. This is how we spent our Saturday. |
One of our family traditions is the celebration of the Feast of Saint Nicholas. Saint Nicholas was a Bishop who served God by giving his wealth away to people in need. If you want to read more about his story, I recommend this website: "St. Nicholas, discovering the truth about Santa Claus".
Since this is only our 3rd year celebrating the Feast of Saint Nicholas, I managed to get my dates mixed up. Saint Nicholas Day is December 6th. Our family is honoring Saint Nicholas on December 9th this year.
We celebrate Saint Nicholas Day for a couple of reasons. When I heard the story of Saint Nicholas, I was thrilled to know that Santa Claus is derived from a real man who served God by giving gifts. I want my children to know the story of Saint Nicholas, just as they will know all about Santa Claus. The second reason we celebrate Saint Nicholas Day, is so we can wrap up and give Christmas Pajamas and Christmas Dresses to our girls before Christmas.
This year I wanted to present the story of Saint Nicholas in a way that would be entertaining to my children. I wrote down one of the stories of Saint Nicholas in a format they would like and created a makeshift book for our story time tonight. It was a big hit. I would like to share my creation.
The Story of St. Nicholas
A long time ago there
lived a boy named
Nicholas.
When he was young
his parents became
very sick and died.
Nicholas' parents left him with
more money then he could ever
spend.
But, he missed them very much
and felt sad.
Nicholas obeyed Jesus'
words to "sell what you
own and give the money
to the poor."
Nicholas felt happy when
he gave his money away.
Nicholas grew up
to be a Bishop.
This means he
worked at the
church and
served God.
Nicholas heard about
a very poor man with
three daughters.
The poor man wanted
his daughters to get
married, but he didn't
have any money for
a wedding.
One night Nicholas went
to the poor man's house
and tossed three bags of
Gold through an open
window.
The bags of gold landed
on the shoes that were
drying by the fireplace.
The next morning
when the daughters
awoke they found a
bag of gold in each of
their shoes.
The daughters were
very happy. They now
had enough money to
get married.
Tonight we celebrate
"The Feast of Saint Nicholas"
in honor of a man who
served God by giving gifts
to people in need.
All images were obtained from various websites using Google Images search.
After dinner last night Belle was blowing into a wooden flute as we were listening Christmas Carols. The sound that came out could hardly be called music, but it was entertaining nonetheless. Belle handed the flute to Jeff and he played "Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer" for us. He then passed the flute to Ariel, so she could screech out notes in rhythm to "Little Drummer Boy". I remember thinking that we would make the perfect Norman Rockwell painting. I was delighted that the girls were taking turns with this fun musical instrument. Hours later I realized that we were sharing more than just memories.
At 2 AM Belle got sick. At almost four years old, this is the first time she's vomited in the middle of the night. It was traumatic for her and us. While Jeff changed all her bedding, I sat with her in the bathroom and rubbed her back while she continued to vomit.
I remember being sick when I was young. I remember the bad dreams that came when I had a fever. I remember the awfulness of spending what seemed like the whole night looking into a toilet bowl and emptying my stomach. As a parent there is not much that can be done for a sick child, except be there, hold them and let them know they are not alone. I hope that my presence gave her comfort. It made me feel good to be there with her.
Belle was sick a couple more times today. It's the flu. The flu is most recognized by it's fast onset and violent symptoms. It is also highly contagious. I told you about that shared music experience after dinner. I failed to mention the extra wet, sloppy kisses that Belle received just hours before she became sick. I fear that the flu has invaded our home like a horror movie villain. Eventually everyone in our house is going to be confronted with the ugly virus, it's just a question of who's next and how long until they are attacked.
My first Christmas Miracle of 2007:
We had dinner. In a restaurant. With the girls. And it was enjoyable.
I swore that I would not be one of those parents that stopped dining out when I had kids. After Belle was born, I had no problem keeping that commitment. Dining out with one child was easy, even desirable, just for the simple fact that I didn't have to do any cooking or cleaning up afterwards.
Dining out with two children is not pleasant. Especially my children. Its not really their fault, I'm the one who thought it was a fabulous idea to get pregnant with my second child before the first was even nine months old. In the last two years I have had several restaurant experiences with my children where I either needed a drink or we needed to head for the door. Most of the time I was downing my drink as we ran for the door.
We have found two restaurants that we risk going to with our children. The first is a pizza parlor, so it doesn't really count. The second is a restaurant called Beaches. The big selling points? First, it's loud. Second, it is located on the Columbia River. The kids can watch boats and airplanes all dinner long. Third, for dessert the waitress takes our children away from us. The kids get to pick out a toy and make their own ice cream sundae. It is wonderful, but we have never had a perfect dining experience there.*
*Our failure to have a idyllic dining experience at Beaches is completely our fault and should not reflect negatively on the restaurant.
This weekend we celebrated Jeff's birthday. Jeff wanted to go out for dinner, but wasn't in the mood for pizza and we didn't have a reservation at Beaches. We decided to brave the unknown and go to Big Al's. It wasn't that much of a risk, It's a bowling alley with an arcade, bar and restaurant. What we were really risking is terrible food and kids who didn't want to stay at the table. What we got was a completely different experience.
The restaurant is really a sports bar. Luckily we arrived during the first overtime of the Oregon verses Oregon State football game. The sports bar area was filled with people in orange shirts yelling and screaming. Our table had a wonderful view of all the craziness, perfect kiddie entertainment until their food arrived.
We were not expecting the diverse and succulent sounding menu that Big Al's had to offer. Jeff ordered braised ancho honey pork and I went for the feta vinaigrette marinated chicken breasts topped with a Kalamanta olive, tomato, cucumber salad. Yummmm.
The kids were losing interest in their dinners by the time our food arrived (we ordered the kids food right away so we could avoid a hunger meltdown). Belle discovered that if she stood up in our booth and look over the wall she could see pool tables. Jeff was concerned that she would drop a french fry on some unsuspecting pool player. Once we set the ground rules
(perfectly okay to stand up and watch other people, not okay to drop your food on them) everyone was happy. Jeff and I enjoyed our dinner, engaged in adult conversation and marveled at how well the whole experience was going.
We had a wonderful evening. After dinner we played in the arcade. They have a great selection of kids games that yielded tickets that we later exchanged for prizes. We spent $10 on games and went home with a lipstick and crown for each of the girls. Now we have enough crowns for everyone, even the dog.
After dinner last night, my girls asked me to read to them. Thanks to the boxes of Christmas stuff taking up my entire dining room, we have books about Christmas that have been in storage for a year. It's nice to have fresh material to read. I read them a cute book with a sheep finger puppet built into it. You tell the story of how the lamb went to the manger to see Baby Jesus and perform the appropriate actions with the finger puppet, very fun.
I love reading stories about the first Christmas but, after 5 times of reading that book, I was done. I went searching through our Christmas box for Max Lucado’s “The Crippled Lamb”. This one is about a crippled lamb that keeps baby Jesus warm in the manager. (I need to get some different books or my kids are going to think that Baby Jesus was raised by lambs.)
In my search for “The Crippled Lamb” I tossed a couple of other books on the floor to keep the kids occupied. They let me read “The Crippled Lamb” once and then they brought me a book I had discarded. “The Night Before Christmas”, you know “T’was the night before Christmas and all through the house….”
This book was a big hit. The girls were both worried about Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer, “Why isn’t he leading the sleigh, Mommy?” They were enthralled with the stockings and Santa Clause and the presents. The girls even tried to figure out how to put their finger aside their nose, give a nod, and rise up the chimney. We read this book over and over until bath time. Ariel took the book upstairs with her and hid it in her bedroom so she could look at it after lights out.
Why is Santa Clause infinitely more interesting than Baby Jesus? Where is the cool Baby Jesus book where the Holy Infant does more than just lay in the manager? I really want my kids to know that Christmas is about love, not gifts. And when Christmas is about gifts, it’s about giving, not receiving. Should I resign myself now to the fact that just like my childhood Christmas Eve is going to be all about Santa?
This year we decide to cut down our own Christmas Tree. A couple of years ago we went to a Christmas Tree Farm where an employee cut down the tree that we selected. Today marks the first time we paid $5 to the USDA Forest Service for the privilege of finding and cutting down our own tree.
We started off the day by gathering everything we would need to take two girls and two dogs into the forest for a tree hunt. We packed a saw, food, hats, gloves and scarves to name a few. By 10:00 we were ready to leave on our hour and a half drive towards Mount Hood. Since it was a long drive I decided to put the kids in the car without their jacks and boots so they'd be more comfortable.
When we reach the end of our street Jeff realized he forgot a water dish for the dogs. We quickly turned around to get the water dish. Fifteen minutes later we were on the freeway. Jeff turned to me and said, "You made the sandwiches, right?"
"Ha, Ha, very funny," I replied. "I watched you make them, remember?"
Why do guys think it is so funny to scare us like this.
An hour later we had another conversation.
Jeff: You got Ariel's boots right?
Me: No, I thought you got them.
Jeff: I didn't get them, I thought you did!
Me: Your kidding, right?
He wasn't kidding.
We were able to find a snowboard rental shop that had boots. Unfortunately the smallest size they had was a 13. Ariel wears a size 8. Since Belle wears a size 10, we rented Burton boots for Belle and Ariel wore Belles boots. Both kids left the shop wearing boots several sizes too big for them, but at least they had something on their feet.
Our next stop was the Forest Station to get our permit to cut down a Christmas tree. They also gave us a map showing the approved areas to find a tree. The map lead us to a lovely location.
The girls and dogs had a great time playing in the snow while Jeff scouted out the tree situation. The great thing about the forest, is there are plenty of trees. But, we soon found out that Christmas trees don't grow in the forest. Forest trees are built for survival, not hanging cute ornaments on. Forest trees are crooked, not easily accessible and they tend to be covered with moss.
After a lot of hunting, changing our expectations, driving to a new location and hunting again, we found it. A perfectly strait tree growing out of an old stump right by a river. The timing couldn't have been better. The kids and I were tired and cold. Ariel wanted to go home and was refusing to walk.
Jeff asked me to take a picture of our tree in its natural habitat. He was perched on the stump next to the tree when he lost his balance. He fell off the stump and rolled towards the river. Luckily some other trees broke his momentum. The girls and I were a little freaked out. Jeff took a couple of minutes to catch his breath and build up the courage to climb on the stump again. I tried to help Jeff when Ariel yelled at me, "Mommy, DO NOT push my Dad into the river!" I took a minute to explain to Ariel that I love her dad and would never push him into the river.
Jeff got the tree cut down without further incident. We began our long trek back to the car. Jeff carried (actually dragged) the tree, while I carried Ariel and made sure we didn't leave Belle in the forest. Why a child walks so slow when you are carrying their 32 pound sister through the snowy forest, I will never know.
We got the tree home. We even had enough gumption to set it up and decorate it. So here is our Christmas tree. Lovingly selected from the forest and allowed to reside in our house until Christmas is over.
