FBSG: The Field Trips

Every Fall Break adventure should be sprinkled with field trip. That is not to say you should take your children somewhere new every day they are on break. This will exhaust them. It also sets you up for disaster once summer comes. Those little brains of theirs remember that load of activity and will expect it all. Summer. Long. Do yourself a favor and be mediocre during Fall Break.

We had 5 trips a field. This sounds like a lot over 10 days, but two of the trips were actually repeat locations.

Trip No. 1: The Zoo

I had the pleasure of being invited to join some other mothers and their sons to the zoo on the first day of break. This was a herd of 2^nd grade-kindergarten boys and four moms. There were a lot of boys. As is our lot in life, we live 17 miles away from the zoo. Once boys were loaded, we’d driven the 30 minutes, and found a parking spot, and renewed our zoo membership to the tune of $100, the sky – which had been forecast to be 70 degrees and sunny – turned cloudy and black. We even felt a few drops.

While I’d like to say we are usually very prepared for this type of thing, the only coat in the car was mine. So, I marched myself right into the gift shop and bought sweatshirts for everyone. I then got sucked into buying huge stuffed animals. It was like a whole thing. Blah!

Please note how large my kindergartner is (on left end).

The next few hours were enjoyable. The boys were with their friends. I was with mine. And we didn’t loose anyone. Have you ever noticed there is a time limit on such peace? Someone in the group of 8 starts to whine a little bit and complain of hunger, the lead dogs start to stray a little farther from the group, the pensive observers start to linger a little longer at each exhibit and you can tell the end is near. This is when I decided to call it quits. Call me a party pooper but I can tell when I’m about to yell at my kids and I don’t want to do that in front of people, so I left.  Everyone should know when to leave.

Trip No 2: Haunted Party Shop

All of the costumes in our house were decided but we were missing some parts and pieces. Before I plunged into trying to sew something before Halloween we decided to visit a costume shop in Old Towne Littleton.  It was super creepy. Mason’s heart rate soared and he was trembling and he had to be carried in. (Yes, we’re those parents.) Once inside he relaxed and cozied up to the deli case filled with body parts. My husband and I jumped our original costume ship and decided on new ones on the spot. Then we procured a few of the small things we needed for the kids’ costumes. I’m totally looking forward to showing off those pictures next week.

Trip No 3: Lifetime Fitness Swimming Pool

I’m always in favor of killing two birds with one stone. Remember the request to go swimming? When another mom friend of mine asked what our plans for Fall Break were (I think she was trolling for ideas) I confessed that our plans were modest, just the swimming pool. Then she saved my day. She offered up her club’s pool and decided to join us.

Off we traveled to Lifetime Fitness. I signed in which was a total cluster and the kids jumped in the pool. Then a lifeguard approached me and informed me that if I didn’t plan on getting in the pool my kids would have to take a swim test. Part of me laughed inside because I was like, “Yeah, my son wants your job.” The other part of me was like, “Oh, I wonder if my other son will have performance anxiety about this.” But I offered them up he pulled them aside -- to another pool in fact -- and told them to swim a lap without stopping, touching the wall or rope, or needing help of any kind. Cooper jumped in, swam his lap, and started back toward the other pool. Mason started a negotiation. Then he methodically slipped into the pool and started swimming. Without a struggle he swam the full lap, climbed out of the pool then looked up at the guy (goggles still on) and shrugged his shoulders as if to say, “Is that all you got?”

Proud of those two. We may get Mason to do swim team, yet.

I also want to say, this is a brilliant system and I sincerely think more pools should have this rule. 

Trip No 4: A Traffic Jam

One of our field trips was to the city. Yes, I said it. We’ve become that suburban. Wanting to see our friends who had recently moved closer to downtown from the burbs we planned a dinner date at their house – two moms, five boys.

But something, I don’t know what, had traffic all snarly. A drive that literally takes 30 minutes turned into 90 minutes! Let’s review. Trapped in a tin can with two small boys. Dinner time. 90 minutes of snail pace movement.

It was an extraordinary reminder that I don’t like commuting at all.

Trip No 5: The Zoo, II

OK. I know what you’re thinking. Why? Because it is never the same. We met some friends and the weather was much better. We didn’t stay as long, but we saw more. It was great. Well, except for the part when the boy elephant let it all hang out – if you know what I mean. That was so uncomfortable. My boys couldn’t even laugh, they were horrified into silence.  Oh did I mention we were with friends, girl friends?!?!?!?

The most exciting part of the second zoo adventure was our license plate hunt. This is a game we play pretty much non-stop everywhere we go. But for some reason early in the trip we could tell we were going to have a record day. The object of the game is to find as many different states’ plates as possible. I don’t mean vanity plates or one state’s multiple versions. I mean different states. We saw 28! Also, there are a lot of Texans here.

Fall Break: A 10-Day Guide to Survival

Before we stroll down this majestic, tree-lined street of autumnal nostalgia I would like to first announce that I’m one of the moms that likes when my kids are on break. Some moms hate it. I appreciate that sentiment. Frankly, if I had some of the kids that are out there, I’d hate it too. But I love it. I look forward to it. I plan for it.

The secret to having a successful Fall Break (insert Christmas Break, Spring Break, Summer Break) is to ask your kids what they want to do. Ask this well in advance of the break. And make it a homework assignment (I don’t home school but my kids write a lot of extra essays under my direction).  I believe I posed the question something like this:

Please write a short paragraph and illustrate the top activities you would like to do during Fall Break.  Scanned answers posted here:

Mason

Cooper

As you can see, the expectations weren’t that high. All I had to do was break out a football at the park and take the kids swimming. (Let me also add that when my children request to go swimming beyond the two hours a week they both put in at swim practice I am always gobstopped.)

Then I break out the secret weapon. This comes with a little bit of planning, so I’m sharing my secret now so that you can be ready for next year. That’s right, next year. At the close of the Halloween shopping frenzy I go to Michael’s, JoAnn’s, and even Target and shop their clearance sales. In the beginning I only shopped costumes because my kids were big on the dress up scene. But when they outgrew that I started to just buy the crafts and activities. These are always pennies on the dollar at clearance time. This is a clandestine operation. Pack your purchases away with the plastic pumpkins and ghost garlands when you put away your decorations.

Once my kids are actually let out for school I break out the bin of decorations and start unveiling all the fun surprises that they will have for Fall Break. This year we had the following activities at our disposal:

New decorations for the porch

Jack-O-Lantern face stickers for everything from pumpkins to artwork

Wood bead skeleton and witch kit

Masquerade masks to be decorated with feathers and sequins

Miniature finger puppets

Foam haunted house (like a gingerbread house but foam)

Gingerbread haunted house and gingerbread haunted cemetery

Also in my decorations bin I store the Halloween books (children’s picture books), Halloween linens, the skeleton pillows (sewn on Fall Break last year), and Halloween cookie cutters. When these get unearthed the boys go bananas to be reunited with their toys and reread old favorites.

What ensues after Pandora’s box of Halloween decorations is opened is really fabulous. While it all goes quickly, it’s never boring, nor frustrating. I just pick up another activity out of the pile of fun and we move on. It’s messier than my lonely days when they are in school. But it is short-lived, a mere 10 days.

And there you have it, a clue. In the next few days I’ll be sharing with you some of our Fall Break adventures – just to get your creative juices flowing.

PS – May I also recommend you take in someone else’s pet gerbils for the week? Pet-sitting is a tremendous learning experiences for the littles and adds to the Fall Break commotion.

From The Chaos

My youngest brother visited us. He brought a friend and we set out to have a great pre-Spring Break adventure. On one particular day – St. Patrick’s Day in fact -- we set out to walk the bleachers at Red Rocks Amphitheater, take in the sights downtown, and perhaps see a few unique highlights of the little big city known as Denver.

And by “we” I mean my brother, his friend, me, and the two small children that live at my house. That’s a tall order for two little dudes. They loved the whole day and were very well behaved if I do say so myself.

Our weather was perfect and Cooper practically bolted up the sunny amphitheater steps. He’s a hard soul to keep track of in a crowd. He’s destined to always move forward and see what is around the corner before the rest of the party does. Though there were crowds of folks at Red Rocks there was peace and calm all around.

Then we descended into the city. No peace. Mostly rowdy revelers leaving the scene of the parade in droves. It was a little tricky to find a parking space, and trickier still deciphering if St. Patrick’s Day is the type of holiday Denver Parking considers a meterless occasion.

Pulling the boys through the swarms of people wasn’t that bad, except that Cooper kept stopping to pick up beer bottles and collect the bottle caps. His explanation to my brother’s companion was fairly simple, “My mom and dad keep their wine corks. I collect bottle caps.” In my defense of the collecting of wine corks, please see Pinterest!

We commenced our downtown sojourn with a leap into the Denver Museum of Fine Art. This is a set of gorgeous buildings with a much too early curfew – 5 p.m. on Saturdays.

As Mason does, following his adventure he set himself at the table and drew his favorite part of the whole day.

I think he might actually appreciate and understand this particular installation. Right now his interest in art is simply for his enjoyment but I suspect a greater knowledge of art history and an understanding of pictorial elements is on the horizon.

Sewer Boots

In these parts everyone has Wellies. Now, let me just say, I don't call them Wellies, or Wellingtons, Hunters, or Rubbers. I've never met a Duke, from Wellington or otherwise. So I call them sewer boots sometimes rain boots when I'm trying to keep my origins on the down low.

At first I thought they were a fashion craze. I didn't buy into it. Mainly because we live in an arid, land-locked state and I couldn't see the point. Then I began regularly walking my children to school. The winter months in Colorado are notorious for major snow fall, followed by major sunshine. It's the runoff for which you need sewer boots. The dirt path to school becomes a mud slick after the first snowfall and stays that way until the last day of school. Now, I get it.

The boys don't get it. They wear them when they feel like it, and rarely when they are needed. You may catch Cooper in them on the way to swim practice on a cloudless, 90-degree day. But on the way home from school in mud up to his ankles? No boots. It makes for a long walk home.

Tour of Dreams

Not to put too romantic of a point on it, but I’ve noticed most people who live in the suburbs have a habit, good, bad, or otherwise, of believing they are living the dream. Or at the very least they project that they are living the dream.

Go to anyone’s house for the first time – this is especially true of new families in the neighborhood – and you are taken on a tour. The new homeowners walk from room to room and tell you what their plans are for the house. Look, it’s pretty transparent. They are pleading with you to judge them by their grand ideas and aspirations, not reality.

“And this is the upstairs loft, but we’re really going to put French doors on this opening, hang a crystal chandelier, paint it pink and make it a nursery.”

“And this little unfinished storage room is going to be a knockout sound studio for my husband’s band mates from high school.”

Sometimes you go to someone’s house who has just finished a remodel and the tour is something more like this.

“This is the man cave (insert eye rolling) my Tom just had to have a poker room. And I finally granted his wish to have his own space.”

“This is the game room. I just send all the teenagers down here. I’m telling you… we may have the smallest house on the block, but it’s the house everyone wants to hang out at.”

I myself have been giving a tour of dreams for about 12 years. No joke.


When we first moved in, I in my early 20s, would flit about and say things like, “I envision something very William Morris in here. Maybe a built in reading nook with a fine leather chair, maybe an antique table.”

Seven days ago, however, a small construction crew arrived at 8 a.m. and unceremoniously started knocking down walls. Without a second thought they threw out the porcelain prince that I worshipped through both of my pregnancies. They ripped up the carpet where I spilled a huge glass of red wine while bathing my babies. They smashed in the wall that was still stained with blood from the first time I tried to cut Cooper’s hair. And tossed with abandon the tub that cracked this same boy’s chin open. They even cut out the corner of the closet where I hid and cried on the night I came home from the hospital but had to leave my Mason behind in the NICU.


The dream tour has come to an end and with it a few discarded monuments to memories in our lives. A melancholy mix of relief, gratitude and excitement. And I find, as I schlep tile samples from plumbing showrooms to stone yards in 100-degree heat, that William Morris and I don’t see eye to eye.


In fact, I’ve learned that truly great design is figuring out what to do once you’ve opened a wall and found an absolutely unmovable post is hidden in there. Learning to love plan B, I guess you could say, is the real dream.

I love my little house on the corner. I'll love it even more when I can use the upstairs bathroom without the fear that contractors are looking up through the vents at my bare bottom.

Sign of a Good Trail

Thanks in part to the inspiration of my occasional running partner I have been running on and around a regional park called simply, The Bluffs. It's a little loop with some serious altitude so it's easy to work it into a longer run for some incline training. Plus it's comprised of soft gravel trails that are wide enough for runners, walkers, cyclists, and even horses -- so it's easy on the knees.

Since then my boys have been begging to join me for a day hike. Mainly it was Coop, but Mason thought it was a brilliant idea. A week before school started I sat them down and said, "Here's your last chance. There's only a few days left tell me what you want to do before school starts." The answer was emphatic if not misguided. They both wanted to hike The Bluffs. Only problem was, it was meant to be 100 degrees that day.

Far be it from me to force my agenda on them in this, their last week of summer. So, we went.It was hot. Lava hot. But those brave boys wouldn't dream of complaining because they knew they had suggested it, begged for it, demanded it. The loop is less than 3-miles if you take all the short cuts. I thought they might make it with such a strong start. But then at about the .5-mile mark we started to notice something. Besides the copiuous amount of sweat, and the fact that our water supply was already in short supply, the steady zzzzzzz of hundreds of rattles all around us. Heat + Traffic = Mad Rattlers. So, I suggested we take a picture and head down with promises to return in more temperate climes.

A few days later and in much cooler temperatures I suggested we try again. Coop was all over it. Bounced himself into his shoes, and the car before I could blink. Mason on the other hand declined, "Anyways, I have different skin. I get way too sweaty."

Tight

I planned a peaceful send off for my oldest on his first day of first grade. Followed by an equally peaceful kid-free brunch with other elementary moms, followed by a much needed coffee date with one of my besties, followed by some sewing and shipping of backlogged etsy orders. And then maybe run 7-10 miles depending on the heat. Instead, this...

7:30 a.m.
Coop wakes up and sleepily walks downstairs to my room. I shout, "Oh my gosh, first graaaaaaaade!" He rubbed his eyes and turned around and walked away from me without so much as lifting an eyebrow.

8
I realize that due to yesterday's adventure he has no shoes to wear to school. Attempts to dry in dryer left them hot, stinky, and still wet. Begin frantic search through every closet. Call all neighbors with boys ages 7 to 17 looking for cast off tennis shoes. Find a pair of 11s in little brother's closet, Coop wears a 13 1/2 (but I don't actually know this because I've been making him wear 12s all summer).

8:30
Load car to drive little brother to summer camp -- which begins at 8:40. Cooper is barefoot because we're hoping his shoes will dry by the time we get back and before we leave for the first day of first grade.

8:40
Arrive at summer camp to discover that Mason left his lunch on the step. Grrrrrrr.

8:50
Shoes still wet. I suggest he wear flip flops. He says -- and I'm not kidding -- "Mom we need tennis shoes for P.E. It's for our own safety." Stuff huge feet into little brother's shoes and take proverbial first day of first grade photo in front of house. Coop's feet look like horses hooves. He is hobbling. And I'm really worried about state of affairs. But I grab Mason's lunch and decide to drive Coop to school since I'm not 100 percent sure he can walk with bound feet.


8:58
I guess all parents have decided to drive their children to school because it is an absolute cluster surrounding the school. Cooper starts freaking out because he REALLY appreciates punctuality. Really.

9:02
Coop prances (his feet are clearly killing him) past principal who says, "Don't worry I haven't heard the last bell, yet." Does he not realize this is exactly the kind of thing that will instill panic in Coop's heart. The Coop likes to be first in line. Not last. Not sliding in just before the tardy bell. First.

9:03
Coop says, "Oh great, something is leaking." Sure enough, water bottle has leaked all over his pants and he looks like he's had an accident. Not a great look for your entrance onto the first day of first grade scene. He's now almost hyperventilating.

9:05
Last bell. Sees best friend -- who is crying -- and just about looses it, too. Lets me kiss the top of his head, then looks up with pleading eyes and says, "My feet really hurt." Limps with class into the first day of first grade.

9:15
Meet a clutch of elementary moms under the flagpole -- some are teary -- to craft "ladies of leisure" plan. Every single one of us has some kind of something that must be taken care of before we eat. All disperse like crazy ants to fix dilemmas before planned pig out session.

9:25
Deliver Mason's lunch to summer camp.

9:35
Breathe. Eat brunch and enjoy the company of some really amazing women.

11:30
Bolt to Nordstrom Rack to find shoes for Cooper. That is when I realize I don't know his size. And am now facing the real reason I like to wait until about a month after school starts to buy school shoes -- picked over. Like there are NO shoes. I take that back. There are hundreds of pink, sparkly choices. There are no boys shoes. Actually there is a pair of camouflage crocs in size J1, a pair of navy chuck taylors in 13 1/2, some black running shoes in a 2W, and a pair of plaid vans in a size 1. I buy all of them.

NOON
Arrive at school, check in, and hustle out to the playground to find Coop and begin the hurried and sweaty task of helping him try on shoes. Thankfully the chucks fit (I would have shot myself in the eye if those crocs had fit) and Coop releases an overtly grateful sigh of relief. Then I have to find something to cut the danged cable tie holding the two shoes together. Why doesn't my generation carry pocket knives?!?!?!

12:30
Breathe. Settle in to a nice chat with a dear friend at Starbucks. She gets me. I love her.

2:45
Pick up Mason from summer camp. He acts very happy to see me, so he also clearly gets me. I love him.

3
Return the three pairs of shoes that didn't work. Cashier at Nordstrom Rack does not get me. I do not love him or his distractingly nasty acne.

3:36
Leave Mason with daddy while I try to fit in at least three miles before 4:05 pick up. It's like 90 degrees and 75 percent humidity. I am sweating like a hurricane and arrive at pick up as slick and slimy as a wild beast, but just in time to make a really good end of first day of first grade first impression.

PS -- Maybe I'll tell you how school pictures went. Maybe not. Check back to find out.

That's Hot

We've had both snow this week as well as temps in the 70s. On our way to the golf course we passed a family walking on the side of the road and the two young girls were dressed head to toe in fleece. It's been cold enough that I can understand why a parent would make this clothing choice. But it was hot enough at that very moment that I instantly got sweaty on behalf of those little gals and said, "Whew they've got to be hot!"

Coop piped up from the backseat, "Wait, what kind of hot?"

And I, in shock, demanded, "Wait, what kinds of hot do you know about?"

Mason said, "Steaming hot."

I tried to lead the conversation to safe topics with, "And spicy hot."

Then I glanced in the rearview mirror in time to catch Cooper's mischievous grin and he slyly said, "And kissy hot."

O. M. G.

The Return of the Halloween Costume

Ummm, excuse me, what day is it? Yeah, how hot is it outside? Hot? That's what I thought. But guess what my kids are doing? Lounging in their Halloween costumes, and eating cheese.


Through the years I've gone up and down about my feelings about costumes. And now I really -- I do mean honestly -- have no shame or embarassment to take a child to the grocery story though he be in full regalia. I am, however, exhausted. It's been a full three years of dress-up, people.


Dress-up play is great. But it makes a colossal mess. First you must decide how to store the costumes. Then you must decide how to clean them. Then there's the whole debacle of a play date when every child in the neighborhood is fighting over the pirate's hat and the turtle's slippers. Not to mention the mess a gaggle of toddlers can make in a dress-up chest.


And really, I should have thought about these things WAY before I introduced costumes into the house. You accidentally set precedents on how many costume changes a child is permitted in one day, how many costumes they can wear at once, and how many days in a row they are allowed to wear them. In a word: exhausting.


Do you suppose there is a parent's handbook on dress-up clothes? That is a manual I could write.

Aside from the complaints, there is certain amusement to be had along the way. I have genuinely relished shopping with Batman and standing in line with Darth. After all it is the closest I'll come to celebrity.

Let The Good Times Roll

Hints of perfect weather are peeking through in our state. And we're so grateful.

It is time for playing in the street (please drive slow in my neighborhood), yelling over the fence for BBQ tips, and picking through the garden.

Green With Glee

Lots of exciting stuff going on around here. Needless to say, we're green with excitement for all the changes. If you want to stop by, you're always welcome.

The Return of the Sidewalk Chalk

Once the snow melts, I believe the next thing we unearth from the garage is the sidewalk chalk. My heart thaws when I witness the return of the sidewalk chalk. I regain hope for happy days, carefree play, and lazy moments in the shade. And my children have a flood of creativity, again.

It's a simple, archaic joy. The art of disposable expression -- here today and gone tomorrow. Well, actually because this state has very little rain, the works of genius last a week or so. And really, nothing replaces the powdery pleasure of chalk on your hands and cheeks and knees as you dream up extra big game boards, and pictures to walk into.

Frankly, few things are as pleasurable for a mother than when her boys are getting along and sharing the power of both of their brains as they play out their ideas in pastel colors on pavement. This pleasure ends abruptly when the sun sets and both boys march inside, strip down, and leave a trail of grit in their wake. Laundry knows no season.

Photobooth Friday: Outdoor Edition

The first hike of the season.

Patron Saint of Water Fowl

My Mas has a tender heart. The colder it gets outside, the warmer his compassion fires. Passing the frozen golf course pond he cooed, "You know, I wish I could save one of those duckies from the golf course."

As a mother adverse to animal poo, I was reticent to ask how.

But he said, "I would just catch 'em and then ... ummm... wrap 'em up in my bed."

Oh lord, may I survive his charity.

Photobooth Friday, The Thaw

We're ready for spring!

Trust Me

A day or two ago I was upstairs and the boys were somewhere else. Far enough away that I didn't know what they were doing, but I could hear them talking. Then I heard Cooper say, "No Mason, it won't really hurt. Trust me."

It's times like these that I think back to the times when I convinced some of my brothers to do some fairly hideous stuff. Like the time, well actually times, I dressed at least two of them up like WWF entertainers and curled their hair with an itty-bitty curling iron. Then I smeared their eyelids with Mimi Bobeck-esque blue eye shadow, and their lips with a Donatella Versace shade of orange lipstick that you could see from space.

Then they ran around our basement and pretended to be professional wrestlers. It was awesome. It would be even more awesome if I had photographed them. Then I could blackmail them. And I would. Because, as they say, it won't really hurt. Trust me.

PHOTO NOTE: Is Mason's face saying, "Trust you? You're kidding, right?"

Photobooth Friday, Sledding in Snow Edition

I've Grown

Mason is bigger...


and he's not happy about it.
And when the same thing happened to Cooper he almost got stuck in the museum's space suit...

Last Day Blues

School resumes in the morning. It's been a wonderful winter break full of sunny days, holiday shopping, sugar eating, and a little pop of snow at the end. But now the dreaded day of return.

I can feel that my heart rate has gone up, my mind is racing, and I have to keep reminding myself to take a deep breath. Surely I'll remember the backpacks, the lunchboxes, the coats, the mittens, the scarves and the hats. Maybe I'll even get folks where they are supposed to go. And with a little luck, they'll even be on time.

Tomorrow is a big day, a new day, a full day. I'm worried.