The Bus

We went out the Bus yesterday. My Time Hop told me that we had been out there on that day exactly a year ago. Strangely I remember that day. Maybe because it was the first time we had been out there. Maybe because the sun was warm, the skies were summer blue and we didn’t even think about putting jackets on for the first time since we had arrived in the wild West 7 months before. We had survived spring and now summer was starting to show up. Maybe its because that was when I started to get a glimpse of the beauty of summer up here. The flowers were starting to bloom. White, purple, orange, yellow all starting to peek their faces up and out towards the sun.

Whatever the reason I remember that day. I had a posse then. We walked at a snail’s pace. We held hands, I carried them and their snacksdrinks. We would stay out for an hour but have gone a quarter of a mile total. 

I loved that we were outside, drinking in the sun, breathing in the flowers but I was so hungry to see what was beyond those couple of feet we had managed to crawl.

I got out their a few times to run that summer, I hit dead ends a couple times, ran out of daylight a few times...I just haven’t known enough about where I was going to get the the elusive bus that makes it ‘the bus loop’. And that’s ok. I’ve known there would be a time I’d get there. The destination isn’t the thing anyway right?

Yesterday the clouds were hovering over the mountains dark and full of rain. We needed to get out before those things stole the sun from us AGAIN this spring. The Bus is on the other side of town from us now so we don’t venture out there very often anymore but we decided to take a gamble on it this time.

And I kept thinking ‘some things stay the same’ and also ‘everything changes’. Same place, same kids, same day, same feeling with the skies and the sun and the flowers and the sage in the air---and don’t forget the cows! They are all out now.

But we had a totally different experience. I have a crew now who works with me. They carry their own stuff, including themselves. They help make decisions. They walk at their own pace and we check in every so often. We have a call and response system if someone gets a bit too far ahead or behind and they are just out of sight. They know what they need on the trail to be successful...and i’ve learned that too. 

We went a long ways. I’m still not sure where the bus is--I think we could have made it there if we knew which trail to take in the spiderweb of trails out there. BUT who care?! Everyone was happy!! We were out for more than twice as long as we used to be able to hang with it---and everyone was smiling when we got done. It won’t always be like this I know. There are still some more disaster hikes to come our way. 

But I’m going to hold on the successes. The ones where we enjoyed it, and each other, and maybe got a little bit further down the trail than we did last time. (And also where I didn’t have to sing Old MacDonald or 5 little monkeys...or any other long repetitive children’s song that has pushed us to the end of so so so many hikes. That’s success as well.)

part iv

We had a graduation/2nd birthday/1st birthday party because other wise we would have had one party a week for three weeks. And then we started packing and tossing things. Minimalizing to fit into what we knew was going to have be a be a pretty small space. October 1 was his start date but he went up early to get us a place to live. Which took a couple of weeks. It’s a tight market here. The posse, as they were known, and I took an extended vacation with my parents and then made the long long drive out here with Pop-pop who helped tremendously.

In the end, we were in an 800 sq. foot duplex with two bedrooms and an amazing backyard. Three bedrooms would have been ideal but it was perfect in so many ways. We moved in and froze that first night. We weren’t dressed for October in the mountains. We weren’t ready for it when it snowed a week later, or the week after that.

Darkknight was working nights and we were in the small apartment with barely enough money to feed ourselves (but we did) and two kids under 2. It was insane. And I had no idea what I had gotten myself into. Where were we?

The kids played and played in the backyard and the deer came to visit and it was a private oasis back there. I could hang the laundry on the line and believe we were the only ones in the universe who could feel the sun, that beautiful strong sun backed by those blue blue blue cloudless skies. And I struggled to remain open to this rugged place.

It’s been four winters and three summers since we decided to give Wyoming a chance. And I’m not the same...errr I’m more the same than I have ever been. Who knew Wyoming was going to teach me more about myself than I knew? And give me the freedom to be ok with who that person is? It certainly wasn’t me. I was drowning in my posse--all that spit up, diapers, screaming, yogurt everywhere mess. But here, instead of a triangle to walk, there are the mountains. We walked and hiked and walked to keep my sanity. On the trails and around town. Wherever we could go. Whatever the weather. We didn’t have the right gear and we walked effing slow at first.  1/2 mile took an hour. And the posse couldn’t make it back. I strapped one to my back and I scooped up the other and I got strong. And we started to get the right gear for any weather. 

I learned to persevere atalltimes. Screaming kids, raining, snowing...whatever. Breathe in--hold it--breathe out--let it stay empty for a moment--breath back in...onefootinfrontoftheother. I learned all the tricks of the trail. SNACKS! SONGS! STORIES! Lookatthatrock and lookatthatstick! I’ve carried more rocksflowerssticksbugs in my pocket than I can even begin to count. Those 1/2 miles added up to miles and miles and hours of hours and it did something to us...to all of us.

The posse morphed into the crew right in front of the me. They help packs our bags and fill our water. They encourage each other down the trail (when they aren’t racing to be the allusive ‘trail leader’). We are a team now and not a one man show (or a two man show when Darkknight gets to roll with us). We have no holding rules now. We are all stronger. We know ourselves and our limitations a little better. We know each other better. We love each other fiercer.

We are faster and can go farther. We still need SNACKS! but not as many and not nearly as many songs and stories. They hike way out front and way behind happy to be where they are. I get to walk hands free, back free with my face lifted to the sky breathing the air feeling all the gratitude for this place, this time and all the groundedness that comes with placing one foot on the red packed dirt (mud, snow, rock...) in front of the other.

I thought winters were terrible in Missouri. Wyoming springs are even worse, I say as I sit in my sunless sunroom staring out at the fog that covers the freshly snow covered mountain when its almost May. It’s cold outside, it has snowed off and on for three days straight. There’s no relief in sight. Everyone has pictures of themselves in short sleeves and flowers blooming and we are still a month and who knows how many more snows away from flowers blooming. We are learning the tricks. Go outside anyway preferably to the wilderness where you can forget how ugly concrete is when its wet, write as much as you can, get a pink himalyan sea salt lamp, hold onto June--its going to be breathtaking when it comes. Get out of town! Even to somewhere else in Wyoming with the same terrible weather. Daydream about living in Naples. These are helpful tricks...and you need tricks to anywhere you live I think. There is always something that isn’t perfect. 

There aren’t many things that are perfect in the world right now. I don’t need to repeat the news. But outside--in whatever geographical space--things are pretty perfect. And I am full of gratitude and awe that I am here. Wyoming, if you let her, will dig her claws in deep inside of you and refuse to let you go. And even if we move on someday I won’t be free of her for a long long time.

part iii

part iii

In those school, diaper, spit up, single-parent, car less days I was the point person for all things. And so I was the one applying for a lot of these jobs. My feet were firmly planted on the ‘not Wyoming. Anywhere but Wyoming’ side of things until we were a month away from graduation and still no prospects. Something in me decided to look--and whoa were there a lot of jobs available Lander. I closed the computer and thought and thought. And then I opened the computer and just did it. Ran through the application, attaching the resume as fast as I could so i wouldn’t regret it. And didn’t tell Darkknight.

How could I? No way. I couldn’t do it. After all the years of trying to convince me and me only agreeing to mountains, hiking, and camping but NOT Wyoming. I had been trying to compromise. And now I was giving in. Fully. Throwing the towel in. 

There was still the possibility of not getting a call back--I knew that and was banking on it. 

I have a scattered history with rash spur of the moment decisions, and almost every time I do these rash spur of the moment things I know its the right thing to do...even if not the thing I want to do. But I try to stay open and running though the process has been the only way for me to stay open to the newscarydifferent. 

But there was a call back and I was excited and frozen with fear at the same time. 

I think Darkknight was thrilled. I was on board. I wasn’t really. But I was.

My parents were shocked and horrified. They knew we were looking at the mountains--but I didn’t exactly tell them in the most graceful way. I think mostly because I wasn’t sure how badly I really wanted to do it even if I was getting tired of the concrete and the traffic and the people.

The interview was schedule for a month out. Enough time to finish school, wean the baby, arrange babysitting and be excited for a few days away that we hadn’t had in years.

Darkknight’s parents came up to watch the crew. and we happily flew off. Because of a mix up we flew into Jackson instead of Casper and that is enough to do anyone in. ‘This? In my backyard? It’s not real. I’m dreaming.’ 

Except not. Not dreaming at all. 

We rented a car and drove over the pass and past Dubois and the butterflies ate at me as the last 76 miles crawled to a snail’s pace. But then we started seeing houses and green fields after miles and miles and miles of the brown barren high desert that lays in between us and Dubois. And the mountains started get closer again. And I started to feel ok about this mysterious place. We entered the edge of town and there was a brand new grocery store and a brand new hotel that we were staying in! ok, ok ok. 

The next morning was the interview. I dropped him off and I went to find the library and explore the town. I found the library. It was new! But not open until mid-morning. My first experience of small town culture. So I piddled around walking and exploring. Up and down main street. The morning had started out cool compared the high humidity 100 degrees I just come from and my first thought was ‘its going to be too cold here. Can’t do it’ 

But then i felt the sun. The way it burns its way through you even when the air is 70 degrees and I was quickly hot.

The mountains were lovely. The sky was blue blue blue. The town was adorable. Small but thriving on Main Street--not the abandoned messes you see in some small towns. All the stores were local. No chains! (later learned there are a few--I just had never heard of them before)

The hospital sits on top of the highest hill in town. Amazing view. And I thought ‘We are going to be able to BREATHE up here!’ Have space to rest and recharge. 

We came home excited and ready for a new thing. 

part ii

I might have started with wonder and imagination, but my imagination never brought me out West. My imagination dreamed of a life in the city and thats exactly where I found myself--and loving it. 

Wyoming wasn’t love at first sight as one might assume from my previous visits out West. I did suddenly feel like I could breathe, I did find myself in wonder, and I did go home frustrated with the concrete and traffic and amount of people everywhere. But I also was coming home--to the place I had wanted to land. I loved living two blocks away from a magnificent park, and a magnificent farmer’s market. I loved all the huge trees in front of century old houses. I was always pondering what their stories were--what all they had seen and heard, been a witness to, inside their walls and out. I loved the local food restaurant just down the street. I loved that all our friends were basically in the same neighborhood with a few exceptions. I loved being in the part of the city and only 15 minutes away from where my parents grew up. Regularly getting to go past the streets that they called home and that I frequented as a child.

That was the life I had dreamed and made real for myself. 

So every time Wyoming came up as a legitimate place we could live I dismissed the idea  out of hand. Yes, its beautiful and you can hike and camp there but we can do those things here! Yes, he would say but its different out there. I asked and asked for more details and never got much more than ‘its about the open spaces’. And I didn’t feel satisfied and so put the idea of moving to a remote open spaces with no big cities out of my mind. I didn’t even entertain it with a daydream.

As the years passed I slowly became frustrated with how complicated things seem in the city. So much congested driving and opportunities to buy things everywhere. More stuff will surely make more happiness is the motto on every strip mall, shopping mall, convenience store...which are on every corner. The Target we chose to frequent had an underground parking lot! There wasn’t enough space to have a regular parking lot, so they had to put one in underground. We eventually moved to suburbs and that was worse. Surrounded on two sides by major roads and on one side by a skinny-two-lane-with-no-shoulder road we were stuck inside our little triangle of a neighborhood. Stuck became an even more appropriate word when we were down to one car and the one car had to drive 25 minutes into the city everyday while I was at home with two babies all day long. I would take those two babies in the running stroller my mom graciously bought me and we would run up and then down every street in our three street neighborhood, if I ran for a bit on the major road which was terrifying I could make it home having run just about three miles. Enough to keep my sanity. And then we would walk up and down the streets over and over and over to practice walking. Not being able to get out is the definition of stuck! Friends no longer in the same hood, no longer two blocks away from the fantastic park... Out in the suburbs things are more spread out, less congestion, but also it feels like more somehow. More concrete, more strip malls, more consumerism--less culture. 

The mountains of a smaller community started to sound appealing. We could walk places, we could breathe a little. We could hike in the mountains just outside the door instead of driving 40 minutes through the concrete jungle to get to the true-er wilderness lying right outside the limits of the city. We started looking at those towns--the small ones nestled at the foot of mountains. There are quite a few. So we started making lists. Big poster board pros and cons for what each mountain town had to offer. We made a trip to the town I was rooting for. We took our six month old and our 18 month old, rented a car, checked into the cheapest hotels we could find and did our first family vacation. We visited a friend of a friend who has a farm out there. He lived 20 minutes from the town where things were quiet and spread out and lush and green. Hardly any concrete anywhere from the drive out of the city and onto his land. And the mountains! And he had pigs! We fed the pigs as we talked about life would be like out there. We had dinner in the local places, we walked around the town and the neighborhoods smelling it out. Does feel like home? We noticed how friendly or not friendly people were. Took note that there was ethnically true food around (quite delicious) and we drove out to the blue ridge parkway and hiked awhile a long a river. Found parks. And then we drove home and talked and talked and made lists and notes and had thoughts. In the end it was everything I wanted it to be and not quite everything Darkknight wanted it to be. But we thought we would go for it...with no luck. No jobs opened up. So we kept hoping but had to move on.

Wyoming

I am not a cowgirl. My husband is not a cowboy. It is a bit strange then that we landed in this rural, isolated spot with 2 acres to our name.

We both grew up within city limits and for the most part enjoyed our time there. My family tried to instill a love of the outdoors in me and it worked but not because of the all the camping they made us do. We would take these camping trips every spring and fall. Rarely in the summer, that was for the beach. We sometimes got to bring friends with us and I always felt amazed that friends would agree to go. One time my dad- by himself- packed my brother, two of our cousins who were also are most preferred playmates and myself into this tiny little black truck we had. This was in the days before extended cab was a comfortable standard for most trucks. The little Nissan was tiny and only people under the age of 10 could really fit in the ‘extended cab’. I have no idea where my mom was this weekend. My memory of the weekend is pretty hazy but I remember a couple of things. First, delight at being on such a crazy adventure and that my aunts and uncles had agreed to letting their offspring come along. Second, it was raining for the drive. And that’s it. Just this small snapshot from the drive and feeling like this was the greatest adventure I had ever been on.

But all the while on every trip we took, I was not stoked that this adventure was taking place in a 1970s recanvased pop-up camper trailer. It was humid, sticky, dirty outside! With no space of my own. I was with my brother all the time. Had to sleep next to him. I love my brother--he has turned into this unbelievable human being who is at the top of his field, he is pretty intelligent and kind. I also finally think he is funny. But when we were kids I didn’t understand him at all. He was curious in the lets-take-it-all-apart kind of way, impulsive, was always getting dirty, trying risky things, trying to accidentally kill me on a few occasions. And I was a reader, a quiet, clean imaginer. I didn’t need to get dirty if the people in my book were doing it for me. And I didn’t need to try risky things and I was definitely not impulsive. I didn’t understand why he and has friends ran around screaming, yelling, shooting at each other all the time. Couldn’t we just play doctor? or teacher? Where everything was in order?

I think most of all I did not enjoy camping because I was 10 when we started going out. And at that point no one that I spent a lot of time with was camping and I felt weird about it. You know ‘my family is starting this new weird thing that my best friend’s family doesn’t do and that makes me feel way to different’.

Even ten years later when I was thinking about spending a good chunk of time in West Africa, the thing that was hardest for me was the dirt. I didn’t want to be dirty. Eventually, I breathed in and out and surrendered to the dirt. It was going to be there, and if I wanted to be there as well the dirt and I were going to have to be friends. There was a lot of breathing during my days and at night, showers never felt so good. Although I was always a little horrified about the amount of dirt I saw swirling down the drain. I got over it. And just learned to relish the feeling of being clean on top of my sheets (you can’t get in them when it is still 90 degrees outside)

So when we decided to move to Wyoming so we could hike and camp and be outdoorsy my family was shocked. Three and a half years later and they are still shocked when I tell them about what adventures we are doing next.

I think what happened was that I came out here. I came out to visit for a short time while  Darkknight was working out here, I came out again for our friends wedding, and then again for the interview that moved us out here. And every time I came out I felt like I could breathe. The air feels clean and wonder/awe/beauty are not hard to find. It surrounds. Then we would go back home to concrete and traffic and masses of people everywhere and huge shopping malls and while that was the only life I had ever known I started to want something else. Something more and something less at the same time. 

Now I realize that while I never loved being dirty and in my preteen years doing things my friends were not doing, I have always loved being outside. I would sit on our porch for hours writing horrible poems about feeling like I didn’t fit in, or feeling judged for the shoes I wore to school. I remember climbing the tree in our front yard and just sitting there for long periods of time, trying to think of something really meaningful to carve into the tree. I remember loving when there were trails at our campground and we got hike around -- we mostly always had to turn back before I was ready too--this is still true even with all the hikes we do. I loved riding my bike down to the edge of our neighborhood with the breeze in my hair. I would pedal as hard as I could pretend I was totally getting away from those bad guys who wanted some important thing from me. When I got the end of the road, the bad guys disappeared as I walked off the pavement into the woods with the tall dense trees and the crunchy leaves and I was lost in a whole other world. I didn’t think about being dirty then and if I’m honest now I would have loved to have my brother with me on those adventures but I didn’t know how to ask him then. ‘He will probably just be crazy or hit me with a rock’ I thought. 

When we were twelve my best friend and I convinced my parents to let us walk from my house across the fields and ‘forest’ that lay in between us and the neighborhood a couple miles by road away where a lot of our friends lived. But we weren’t taking the road, we were taking the bushwack. We blazed our own trail that day. We got some scratches, had to cross a creek, stopped at a ‘grown up friend’s’ house that was in the middle for some tea before continuing on. It took us quite awhile I think, but we were bushed when we were done. We laid in the sun on our friends driveway like solar panels afterwards trying to recharge and feeling like it was taking too long for our parents to come pick us up (which is probably how they felt waiting for us to call to say we had made it). It was the greatest thing I had done up to that point. We drew a map and named all the geological features we had crossed and promised to do it again. No one had ever been that way and it was our secret. We never did do it again. But I don’t think we needed to--we proved to ourselves and to each other and to our parents that the world was our oyster. We were going to conquer it. And in our ways we have. She is conquering the concrete jungle, blazing her own trail again with her own high end business. And me out here in the wilderness, blazing my own trail through motherhood and life in a place with such a harsh beautiful landscape isolated from the rest of the country. Sometimes I am literally blazing my own trail again walking through the sage and through the willows and up and over the boulders, and across the creeks. Although this time I know I’m not the only one who has ever been there and the geological features have been named for hundreds of years (but that never stopped anybody from renaming a place).

This wild place has reminded me of who I am and where I started. I started with wonder. I started with imagination. I started with loving adventure. I started with loving the sunshine. I started with pushing myself beyond my perceived physical limits. And that has always brought me life. Made me feel alive in the most visceral way.

Here I am all these years after being ‘forced’ into camping with my family and I am grateful to have had those experiences. They have shaped me and brought me here into this life I am making for myself and my crew. One with no lack of imagination and adventure and perseverance. And maybe it isn't so strange after all that we landed in this rural isolated spot...

Sweet and spicy girls

My daughter. My amazing, sensitive, caring, creative, problem solver, hard worker, big thinker, spicy daughter. She throws these fits.Throwing is not an exaggeration. She saves them for home...outsiders rarely get a glimpse. I’m sure they think I’m exaggerating or crazy or not a good mom, thinking ‘get your kid under control!’.

 Until I talk to another mom of a spicy girl like mine. She adds depth and color to our world that we wouldn’t have otherwise. She is going places! But when she is lying in the middle of the floor screaming, yelling, crying that its my fault she is upset because she doesn’t like tacos anyway (she loves tacos!) or she wouldn’t be so upset if she could just get what she wanted (‘Has that ever worked for you? Do you get what you want when you throw a fit?’ ‘NO!!!’ Ok...so why are you trying this? Again?) 

She desperately does not want me to be right. Daddy can be sometimes, grammy and pop pop always can be right (although it might at first make her a bit sad) but me? Nope. She is forever questioning ‘how do you know that?’ and if its not a legitmate ‘it happened to me’ answer she doesn’t buy it. or even if it is. Taking deep breathes to calm down--I’ve been able to convince her to try it maybe twice in 5.5. years. Drawing a picture of how she feels has worked approximately 5 times. All the other things I can ever think of to help her get to a calm-enough-place that we can TALK about what happened (talking goes well! When she’s calm she understands, she problem solves, she listens---says she loves chores!)

I love her. I love they way she thinks. She is going to--and probably already has been--making me a better person. Make me love bigger and deeper and wider. Make me think harder and smarter. Make me really search out why we do the things we do and whether or not we can change the way we do some things. Maybe I will be extraordinarly patient by the time she has flown the coop.

Sometimes I worry about new parents. My experience was working with kids, loving them, loving it, understanding them, ‘knowing’ all the behavior ‘tricks’. And then I got this girl who is so far out of my league that I felt helpless. Which is a terrible feeling when its your academic field! So I worry about new mommas and what it will be life for them. That they will feel in over their heads. I worry too much really. Because Brooklyn is unique. Yes, there are others who are similar to her, but no one has ever existed just like her before. She is a whole new thing to be tried out. And apparently I’m the perfect mom for her. And apparently having a brother come just after her first birthday was the best way for me to parent her (and him) and I drowned in that for awhile--but just because I did doesn’t mean everybody does--or should. 

And that’s hard. I see the moms who are so blissfully in love with their babies, and their babies are easy and I feel all the twinges. A lot of the twinges at their base come back to ‘you aren’t enough.’ not good enough, not smart enough, not in tune with your child enough. So much gratitude for the near (and far) and dear ones who remind me this isn't true.

Running and rock moving

For the last almost four years I've used running as my path to sanity. All those endorphins working out all the stress of two children under 13 months. And two children under two. And under three....

I go out with shoulders up to my ears, jaws clenching, and one million thoughts circling-not sure if there is room for any of them to land. Push push push through the first mile and then my legs are like robot legs. They just keep moving. And all those thoughts suddenly have found a way out of my head. The running jogs them from their spot and slowly sifts them down through my body and out my heels where I leave them on the sidewalk. Until only the important thoughts are left. Breathe, run, think. Then stop thinking. The thoughts, even the important ones have been sifted out and it's just me. Moving. Breathing. I feel rested in those moments. The moments where the thoughts have cleared out.

It's my favorite.

BUT. I live in Wyoming. Where the winter is snowy. And while not much colder than other places, still cold. And I just decided this winter I was not even going to pretend that I was going to run in the snow. I just...no. Not doing it. I'm not that hardcore runner. And I don't really want to be.

The winter was fine. I skied and sledded and swam and practiced yoga and watched for the return of running weather. And found a race I was super into running. A half in the Red Desert of WYO. 'It would be beautiful!' I thought. I was getting excited and scheduling out my training plan and then we bought a fixer upper. And I knew I needed to put my running practice off for another couple of months. And now. Now we are here in this space. And things are settling, however slowly, and I'm ready to lace up my shoes again.

But here's the thing. Today I carried 50? 75? 10-30lbs rocks 20? 30? yards and arranged them in a circle for an inaugural bonfire at fox valley tonight. Then I shoveled gravel out of a flower bed so we can plant flowers instead of rocks. And then I moved our wood pile. And then we biked up the road and back down a lot of times. And then we walked up the road to our mailbox...

...and after all that I felt pretty sane. Not quite the same, but it seems that living at fox valley is going to be exercise enough.






(But I'll still go for the first run of the season tomorrow)

An Introduction to Fox Valley

I'm sitting on my bed. Which is in my dining room.
There is a pile of cardboard unbelievably high from all the unpacking.
There are only half the number of cabinets we ordered because, backorder! and also, wrong thing.
There is a dog who will not stay inside his fenced area.
There is construction dust and muddy paw prints all over the new floor.
There is dust and muddy paw prints on the stairs.
There is a skill saw on saw horses in my beautiful sacred space sun room.
There is also a kitchen sink and more flooring than we need to finish the house.
There are two mouse traps.
There is a pile of construction garbage outside the beautiful sacred space sun room which really hinders the view.
There are gigantic holes in the ceiling where you used to hit your head going up the stairs.
There is only ply wood covering the upstairs bathroom floor.
A hideous yellow bathroom sink.
There are weeds weeds weeds. I don't even know how to get rid of them all except to get a goat-I'm seriously considering this.
There is a mountain view out my dining room window that stops me every time I walk by. Makes me take a breath and feel alive.
There is a family of foxes living just beyond our property line that come out in the evening to run and play and we are the audience.
There are wildflowers of purple pink yellow white growing all over our 2 little acres.
There is a wood stove that warms things cozily in the still chilly evenings and in the early mornings.
There are new pet caterpillars and the happiest kids.
There are kids who are learning that the world-the backyard world-is their oyster.
There is so little traffic. So little noise.
There are friendly neighbors.
There is a sunroom! Facing south-sun all the time inside!
There are a lot of windows everywhere.
There are elk bugling from the pass not so far away that can be heard while pulling all those weeds weeds weeds.
There are friends who have helped in so many ways to help make this place a home.

It still needs so much love, but Fox Valley is home. More than home. We walk in and feel an exhale. Like we walked into vacation. A place to build love and family. A place to host friends and family and bring them into our vacation. This place where we get to watch foxes play out our dining room window.

For the love of mom.

My mom is a beautiful soul. She wanted my brother and I to have long, deep, thick roots that would give us what we needed to reach the sky. And we have. 

She loves without reservation or invitation. Which grew in me a confidence to embrace the world and not fear it. It’s because of her that I said yes to living in a small West African country for a year, and moved to the isolated wild west, and take my babies backpacking, and go on as many more adventures in all the books we read. 

There aren’t so many words for her. When I think of her I feel at rest. And I feel contentment. And I feel understood. Those feelings all mingle around inside me into this delicious cocktail that is being loved.

I’m finally understanding the sacrifices that were made for my benefit. The financial ones (private schools aren’t cheap!), the emotional ones (I would lay on her bed, while she was clearly ready to sleep and parlé parlè parlè), the practical ones (she showed up at ALL the events in which I participated in school). 

And the endless teaching she did. Teaching me how to take care of myself, and how to cook, and how to love to be outside...We lived on our front porch and on our deck and in our pop-up camper from April-October.

I wasn’t grateful then. But I am now.

Isn’t that the thing about parenting? Delayed gratification? Most don’t enjoy parenting but very much enjoy having parented.

And now it’s my turn. I feel I’m paying her back in some small way by loving her grandchildren.

And as we were driving around in the warmth that feels like summer is on the way (the day before a Wyoming spring snow storm) I hear the sweet little voice of my three and a half year old, 

‘Momma you love me even when I’m cranky, right?’ 

I’m not sure why he asked it, his tone suggested confidence not inquiry. 

I said ‘Absolutely’. 

He said ‘And you love me even when I am not listening and really cranky.’ 

And my heart felt full and proud and maybe a little bit melty because this little soul 

knows regardless of what the circumstances are-I will be loving him.

And, for me at least, it feels like I’ve arrived. Or accomplished something. Or maybe just won the jack pot. Because isn’t that just IT? That’s the point. “No matter what, you will always have a place to feel a delicious cocktail of feelings called ‘Being Loved’”

The light is coming back.

We made it through the dark parts of winter and it always feels like their should some sort of huge celebration for that. The darkness is so hard. And we don't even live in a place where it is dark for the whole day. Every evening the artificial lights stay off for a few minutes longer because the natural light is still working just fine.  It is the best part of winter.

It's not just a physical thing.

We have been, by turns, patiently and not very patiently at all waiting for things to happen. For a house to show up that we loved and could afford. For a job that was more than just a paycheck.

And apparently I am not made of the stuff that is able to be at home all day every day without needing to be checked into an asylum. I thought I might be. But I'm not. It took four and a half years to realize that my love for academia did not die when I had babies.

And now.

Now I get to work with books. I have an unending, incalculable love for books and words and turning pages and stories and information. Even information I already know. I'll read it again. And the truth is I actually really do like children. And babies. Over the last three and a half years, since Bub was born I thought that part of me disappeared. I had exactly enough interest, patience, etc. for my two...and even sometimes that was hard. I was overwhelmed.
And now that I don't change 20 diapers every day  I can again see the beauty of all the little souls.
And I get to read them books. And teach them songs.  And help their mommas have something to do to get out the house in the winter.

And now their is a new job on the horizon that would be more than a paycheck.

And a house, after a lot of work, would be what we have dreamed of... Land, logs, sunrooms, windows, a place for chickens, garden, and mountains!

I feel stretched a little thin these days-there are so many things I want to do and places I want to go and people I really love and really want to see and spend time with.

But what a lovely problem to have. And continues to be such a lesson in choosing wisely and being intentional with my time.

And it's probably melodramatic to say that this is all the end of winter and darkness for our lives- but it seemed really appropriate as I was watching the sun come up while I was writing. And that's my prerogative as the author isn't it? To exaggerate things if it makes for a better story? If you a disagree don't answer that question.

Home.

We took a long trip home last week. It was hard. It was work. It was imperfect hearts learning to be selfless and giving and learning to love in action not just words. We almost got swallowed by the past. But we remembered the future. And then we came home. And we went to the mountains and we BREATHED. What is it about those mountains? They open up your lungs. They just let you be. They just let you enjoy them. And as I climbed that hill with a scared kitten trailing an adoring little girl and a pissed off possessive dog and a sucker eating sticky boy my heart slowed. And it whispered 'you are home. you have made it home'

I don't know why this place is home right now but it is.
Home used to be sub saharan africa with temperatures always in the 100s and bright bright sunshine and sweat rolling down my back. I breathed that dusty dry air that was mixed with all kinds of unpleasant smells and my heart slowed and it whispered 'you are home. you are home'.

During a particularly (the most of my life) rough year I would come to the house I grew up in. To the people who have stood behind me and loved me even when I was ugly. I would stand in that kitchen, hug my mom who smelled like my life and my heart would slow and it whispered 'you are home. you are safe'

During every single day of my life when I get frustrated with my posse. When I am frustrated with breaking three glass jars in two weeks. When I am frustrated with the dog digging holes in backyard this man who has promised to love me forever and always looks at me with knowing, touches my shoulder, or hugs me all the way around and my heart slows and it whispers 'you are home. you are loved'

People say that home is where the heart is. My heart has been in so many places-is in so many places. I have so many homes.

I hate thinking of titles.

Something strange is happening here.
I don't know what to do with it.
I don't know what to do with myself.
For 4 years I have been the mother to an intense (funny, curious, smart, strong) girl. (can I borrow the word spicy??)

When she was a baby it was the hardest.

When she was cranky-she was CRANKY. And that happened a lot. More than not. No one could hold her but me. I had to hold her all the time. She didn't want me to hold her. She didn't want me to put her down. No single activity would occupy her for more than five minutes. The only thing that soothed her was begin outside, talking a walk. And even that would only help for so long.

I spent most of my teenage years babysitting. I studied child development in school. I nannied. I worked at an orphanage. I spent a lot of time with a lot of kids.

In all that time I had never met anyone like her.

And in public, at family functions, at dinner parties, at play dates in the park, mostly people didn't understand. They tried to be kind and 'Why? Is she just hungry? Is she just tired'…but no. She just napped two hours. She just ate more than I did lunch. She is just this way. It's her way. I don't know why she refuses-screams bloody murder with a pouty lip and real tears refuses-to let ANYONE else hold her. Even her daddy somedays. Not grammy or pop-pop. Grandma and Grandpa. Not good friends she sees all the time.  Sometimes it was like she just didn't want anyone to LOOK at her.

I spent SO MUCH ENERGY playing, singing, talking, teaching, comforting, (even when she refused to be comforted) feeding… I started early teaching her to identify her emotions and teaching her how to deal with them. ('screaming is not allowed in the living room. If you are angry and need to scream, please go to your bedroom.' -this I have said on a daily basis for two years. 'If you are confused you need to use your words and ask questions.' 'If you are sad, let's talk about it-please do not scream')

For 3 years I have been the mother to a fun-loving, cuddly boy.

This boy is ONLY interested in doing something if it is fun. Riding a bike totally loses its shine after two days. Potty training is only fun when the treats are mixed up daily (Really, who wants to get M&M's two days in a row??) and never ever ever ever gummy bears. Stickers are for the birds after one use.

When he is in trouble, he laughs! When in time out he laughs! After hitting his sister, he laughs! After kicking Joki, he laughs!

He just wants to laugh ALL THE TIME.
He loves life.
He always wanted to be snuggled. Which is adorable.  And also, it made making dinner quite difficult for two and a half years. The first 2 years I could only make dinner with him strapped to my back. And when he got too big for that I put him on the counter and he cooked with me. (please read between the lines: 'cook with me' means MESSSSSSSSSSSSSSx100000)

But the point is: I have been NEEDED. In real physical, emotional, demanding way for four years. Four years of rarely having enough space or quiet to think my own thoughts. It's survival really. All of you mothers know that. And fathers too. Just get through today.

And dinnertime and bedtime…don't even…just..wwwhhhaatttt planet do we live on? Worst time of every single day. There are beautiful moments thrown in there sure- but some of you talk about LOVING bath time -its so sweet. And bed time is so peaceful and calm..and I  just want to move to your planet..because…wow. Its like a scene from a horror film over here. Screaming, running, lots of nakedness, wicked laughter (because, you know, Bub thinks me asking for him to get his pajamas 1600 times is hilarious), slamming doors, coming in and out and in and out of doors, yelling 'I NEED ANOTHER SNACK!!' and 'BUT MOOOOMMMMMMMMMM IM STILL THIRSSSSTTTYYYY' 'MOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY you forgot my song!' (even though we sang five.)

(Are you tired??)

Ok ok enough about what its been like for 4 years…here is what is happening now...

Peace is happening.

What?

Yes.

They are playing TOGETHER. QUIETLY. NICELY. IMAGINATIVELY. FOR LONG PERIODS OF TIME. (hours!)

No one is helping me cook. No one is following me around the house demanding to be held for hours. No one …. is needing me.

I find myself sitting alone at the kitchen table after a meal, the posse already having put their dishes in the sink, staring at the wall. It's been so long since I've been left alone in this way that I have NO IDEA what to do.
Do I get up and clean? Do I read a book? Do I…I don't even know what my other options are. It's been THAT long.

And it's such a fragile magical thing…I'm almost afraid I'll break it if I start doing something-using my brain in some capacity. I'm sure that if they heard me thinking my own thoughts the posse would rush in with an abundance of needs.

So mostly I find myself staring at the wall or slowly mindlessly scrolling through news feeds and blogs and weird internet stories about the Irish trying American junk food and where the most affordable mountain towns are. All the while in secret parts of my soul I am in awe…eyebrows raised, stopped breathing, no words kind of awe.

I never thought this would happen. I've probably jinxed myself by writing about it.

BUT what I just really want to say is….'Its true!!! They grow up!!!'  And I feel a bit sad about it.

Je veux jouer.

I spent my teenage years sitting in friend's basements watching movies-my dad always chiding us that we should DO something.

DO something? Like what? 16 is much too old to PLAY. Serious adult matters concerned us-riding with a newly licensed driver in their new-parent-bought car, and detangling the latest drama.

My immature introvert self was not confident enough in herself to realize what she really enjoyed doing. I felt most alive and happy and confident and learned the most about myself when I was playing. Outside. Hiking a cliff. Biking a trail. Water fight with friends. Rock climbing and repelling. White water rafting. Float trips. But I didn't pursue those activities…being a teenager is weird. I didn't really know what I liked to do. I felt weird about the things I liked to do. I think.

I wrote off camping and hiking for most of my life because I was forced into going when all my friends would be in a basement watching a movie (I was missing out on so much!) and I HATE PACKING. (This strange turn of events where I love camping and took Sis on a girls only trip this summer makes my parents laugh and also wonder what happened to me. I don't think they should be too surprised though-I have always been adventurous.)

But now that I'm grown I don't care so much if people think I'm weird for reading as many books as I do, or that I just REALLY love to be outside…I'm learning to play!

Not that I didn't play before. It's just a new era of playing.

I could say 'having kids is teaching me to play again!' but that sounds cliche…and not exactly true.

Yesterday we met up with friends and played all day. We ran a 10k, the posse ran a mile, it was pouring rain, we ate lunch, we swam hard (floating around the lazy river and hiking all the stairs to the huge water slide take so much energy) There was no other agenda…we just played!

I hiked with two friends last week. Into the mountains with the aspens changing colors. We heard elk bugle-one of the most magical sounds, we saw elk, we hiked off trail to find a better view of said elk…there was no other agenda...we just played!

It feels like a lot of the pieces of who I am are coming together in this one place. And they come together the most when I am playing. That's how we learn right? Somewhere along the way we forget it, like when we are 16 probably. We forget that playing is how we learn.  It's how I'm learning myself. It's how I'm learning my posse and this other guy who I've promised to spend my life with (He's really fascinating! And amazing! He does hard things!). It's how I'm learning about the world. It's how I'm making friends….And not that I haven't learned these things in other places and times..it's just that the mountains demand these things from you. Demand that you know yourself. Demand that you know your team. Demand that you know the mountains. But they demand that you do it while playing. Because why would you endure the harshness of the mountains if it wasn't fun?

Before moving here I thought there was nothing in Wyoming. Literally nothing. And while that's sort of true-it is also not at all. It would be easy to look at our little town and write us off saying  'nothing to do. two restaurants. one screen theatre with uncomfortable chairs. no night life.' But you would be missing the world class rock climbing. The mountain biking, the trail running, the hiking, the cross country skiing, the hunting, the camping, the boating, the snowshoeing, the fishing, the being outside watching a river rush past you with wildflowers all around…all within a 20 minute drive.

I'm learning to play. I'm learning I like to play. I'm learning playing is a lifelong skill. I'm learning playing is what bonds people together…the people I care about most are the ones I've played hardest with (which also means we have probably been through hard things together too)

And my kind of playing doesn't have to look like your kind playing and we don't need to feel guilty about playing.

And, adults listen, I think we should call it that-call it playing when it is in fact playing! We are allowed that. So much else of the adult life is hard...

le saison change

The season is changing.

The sun is at a different angle. A 'summer is bowing out' angle.

We family camped. We 'girls only' camped. We ran. We hiked. We raced. We backpacked. We played with family. We played in the mountains.We jumped through sprinklers. We picked raspberries. We played with friends. We had birthday parties! We got sun burns and blonde hair. We rode bikes. We rode bikes in the mountains. We climbed rocks. We climbed rock faces and pinnacles. We got stronger. We got smarter. We grew. We spent long slow lovely evenings sipping wine with friends outside as the sun faded. We read books. We played 'I spy with my little eye'. We got frustrated with tourists. We saw a moose momma and a moose baby. We saw a herd of elk. We saw bison. We saw deer. We saw bunnies, and pikas, and marmots, and butterflies, and bees. We saw and picked and smelled and loved flowers of a rainbow of colors. We collected rocks and feathers and bones, and horseshoes.

There is still a bit more to come. A grown-ups only hike. One more race. One big wedding in the mountains. One more birthday (party!!). One more camping trip.

But summer is closing up shop-and I feel good. Content. Happy. Filled. Ready to take on the next adventure….

And when it comes- when that fluffy, cold, white color fills these big Wyoming skies you do not even have to rub your sunny warm fall weather in our virtual faces-because this is good. We sucked all the life out of the summer. We are ready to suck all the life out of the fall. Swimming lessons, and mountains in a fire of colors, and skiing, and pumpkins, and VESTS!!, and holidays (and a nephew!) on the horizon.

I am so frequently overwhelmed by the ocean of emotions flowing through here. I ride the waves and breath deep and try remembering to move with it instead of standing against it.

But the season is changing there too. There is a little more air at the top of those waves. Just a little bit. Just enough that I know we survived it. We aren't out of it yet, but we are going to make it out of the hard 'we have a little posse at home'. And we are going to make it out having lived. Having loved. Having worn holes in our jeans. Having worked. Having experienced and felt and grown. Having taught. Having fought and come back together over and over and over. Having discovered our strength. Having discovered our weakness.

And I feel good. Content. Happy. Filled. Ready for the next adventure...

Mountain Women 2014

How do you describe this?

It's been two weeks since the Mountain Women backpacked/adventured through 14ish miles in the Tetons. And I still don't know what to say.

Peace, beauty, amazingly fresh air..I mean, it feels like REAL air! Not recycled or controlled or filtered. Just air. Blue skies, flowers in varying shades of purple, pink, blue, orange, yellow, white… wild huckleberries we could just pick and eat!! WATERFALLS EVERYWHERE. Like in the picture…there is a waterfall if you look hard enough but we could see it for a LONG ways. We could HEAR it for a long ways. And it was a LONG waterfall. Bright vibrant 'its springtime!' green. Friends. New friends. Old friends. Family that is like friends. And the stars. SO MANY STARS.

These things sit in the soul like a puddle and are slowly slowly soaked into the soil.

It's seeping in slowly.

And mostly for now it's only these single words that seem adequate to describe it. Even though it's far from adequate. It's this big huge feeling.

We went in celebration of my cousin who just finished her Masters. It turned out to be perfect timing because she has had a lot of things going on her life besides school. She needed the break. The break to breath, to see, to feel, to experience life in this way. Disconnected-and more connected. She needed the space to push herself physically and mentally and know that she could do it and do it well.

When we got back I asked what her favorite part was and she said 'I don't know. There is so much. But having done it. Having finished it.' Accomplishing the thing we set out to do.

I am so proud of her. She took such great care of herself. Stopping to drink water and telling us when she was feeling the altitude and needed to rest (she was the only one not acclimated). Others (including myself) might have tried to push the limits and ended up sick-not her! She kept herself within her limits all the while pushing at those limits.

How else do you describe it?

There is this feeling out there in the wilderness. This feeling that comes when the climate controlled, machine run, technology driven world fades away. It's unreachable really. One of us was able to get one bar of reception on her phone and called to check in with her family. But the rest of us were untethered. And theres this feeling of letting go. This freedom to just be. This feeling of life-all the life that surrounds us…we humans are not the only ones breathing and eating and playing. The pikas and the marmots and the bumble bees. There is life everywhere pulsing through everything. And we are connected to all of it.

What else is there for me to do when I feel all these big feelings and see all these amazing things except to jump in the alpine, snow fed lake? And dry off on a boulder.

And close my eyes an smile at the wonder and beauty and amazing-ness of it all. That I am lucky enough to be here in this moment now experiencing life up here with these women…a life few people really get to see.

The first race

This girl:

had no idea what she was in for. But she was ready for it.

She watches me lace up my purple running shoes (I really believe in feeling pretty as much as possible), put on my running shorts (with my running tights most of the year), throw on a T-shirt (again, most of the year also my icebreaker and running jacket) and head out the door. She is worried when I tell her I'm going for a long run 'I'll miss you momma! I wish I could run with you!' and relieved when I'll be back before quiet time is over or before she is asleep.

But she doesn't run much. She is a mad hiker. She is becoming a mad biker. She has got some climbing skillzzz that I did not teach her. But as much as she says she would like to run with me, she doesn't last very long.

Until July 4, 2014.

The first annual Challenge for Charities 1 mile Mad Dash Kids Run.

She was excited about it from the beginning. Actually, it was more about the running shoes. But still. She was excited.

As the day drew near I could see the nervousness set it. She was not sure what she had signed up for but she didn't back down…she was going to get a Tshirt in her race packet!

We started the morning with some stretching and hydrating. We got dressed. We pinned her number on (714!!! I love my number momma!) We walked four blocks to the starting line. I carried her…there was going to be a lot of walking later and I wanted to save her legs. We talked about how the man would shoot a gun in the air and that would be our signal to go. We got in line. 50 kids under 9 and half as many parents. Cameras flashing everywhere, the parents staying behind reminding their kids to watch for the adults on the track who would tell them where to go and to follow the orange arrows spray painted on the ground. Sis was nervous. She was looking around and her body was tense. She was not letting go of my hand even though she had very sternly told me several weeks earlier that under no circumstance would she be holding my hand and she would be running in front of me. But she was ready. As soon as the gun went off we were off navigating around the kids who had been tripped accidentally by other kids and the one kid who was accidentally tripped by a parent. She moved fast and pretty quickly said she was getting tired but pressed on anyway. We slowed down a bit and then when she said she was ready we sped up. We passed a few people-all the parents saying the same things: 'We are pacing ourselves. Go slow now and then speed up' 'It's fine if you need to slow down' 'It's fine if you need to walk' 'You can do this!'.

Before we reached the halfway mark Sis realized that it was fun to pass people. She looked up at me and said 'Momma I want to pass that girl in braids!' who was 30 ft in front of us. She let go of my hand and sprinted up passed her and then slowed down and grabbed my hand again 'I passed her momma!!!' So then I realized that competition is what is going to drive this girl to finish the race…so we found another girl to pass and passed her. Then she sped up and passed us so we sped up and passed her. And found a boy to pass. She kept running! She got tired and we slowed down a bit. But then we reached the bridge! The final stretch! She kicked it into high gear running so fast that daddy barely got a picture of her. There were so many people cheering and some she even knew! And then we crossed the finish line and she was on top of the world. She got the watermelon they set out for the post-race refuel. Everyone was giving her high 5's and saying 'great job!' She smiled big and said 'thanks!' She said 'hi!' to everyone we passed. She was proud of herself and so were we. 

She ran the whole mile. In about 13 minutes-maybe less. We don't have the official time yet but that's not what matters anyway. She's learning how good it feels to work really hard to accomplish something…

The boy and the deer

In the woods.

Away from home.

Cold and rainy turns to sunny and warm.

But there are so many things that are 'no touch'.

Tents, knives, fire, stakes, coolers…

And so many people around. People are on almost every campsite around the loop.

Or so it seems.

This little boy hears 'No touch!'' and 'Come back! Thats not our tent.' and 'Don't touch that wood-it's not ours.'

Too many rules for a boy in the woods. Too many rules for a girl in the woods-but she is content to sit down and color. He wants to run. He wants to touch. He wants to taste. He wants to breathe.

The dirt, the rocks, the sticks, the flowers, the pine trees, the squirrels, the mud, the lake water, the clouds.

Instead of the correcting and the time outs and the frustration-we walked.

Around the circle and to a new part of the park. We stumbled along. Me still frustrated by his restless tired hungry boy-ness. Him by the rules. (No splashing in puddles with those shoes on. Don't poke momma with sticks).

On the back side of a secluded loop I looked up and saw a deer.

We see deer all the time. People all over see deer all the time. They are nothing new. Nothing like a moose which was what I REALLY wanted to see in this area. But she was 20 ft from us. Standing still. She saw us (heard more likely) before we saw her. But when we did, we put the stick down, we talked in hushed tones (he is very good at that), and moved slowly through the woods to see if we could get a better look.

We stared at each other quiet for a few minutes. She moved closer, then farther away. We crept closer. We kept quiet.

And then she was gone.

And so was the frustration. And the restlessness.

We were calmed by this creature who is seemingly so ordinary-but still so different from us.

When we left that campsite two nights, 4 bison, a herd of elk, a 2 mile hike to a geyser, and a lot of campfire time with family that are more like friends later we were full. Satisfied. Peaceful. Full of beauty and wonder.

I am amazed every time at how the simple things fill me up.

An ordinary deer still produces wonder. Early mornings snuggles with my boy set the tone for the day. Late night chats by the fire. Good wine, of course. Being outside. Being open to being amazed.

I want more simple.

The posse needs a name change. Rock stars is more fitting.

The white season is long here. And the colorful short.

I'm not complaining because there are a lot of beautiful things about the white season.

The sun, for instance. Never stops shining. Rarely is there a totally cloudy day.

But we have made it through to feel warmth again. To see green leaves. To see yellow, purple, pink, blue in several shades wildflowers painted on the hills of our playground. To see white, green, and orange with strange striped butterflies who cannot contain their excitement for spring flitting from place to place. To see birds dressed in striking red and bold vibrant yellow and to hear as they sing their songs loud and clear 'come out to play!'. To smell the dreamy intoxicating scent of lilac that covers the town like a fog. To feel the power of water (or rather to be made to feel small) as its white tips push into other white tips tumbling clumsily down the rocks with all the ice cold water that has most recently been snow at the top of the mountains.

We enjoyed the snow. We played hard.
But now there is something new.
And no more hatscoatsbootsgloves.

During the white season only a handful of trails are accessible. So we do those trails over and over and over. They are beautiful. We always find something new.

But now-we get to do new trails. Or at least trails we haven't seen in 6 months so they feel new.

Before I remembered we had so many new things to explore during the colorful season I made a goal for the posse (and myself). We were going to hike the 1.5mi to the Falls, be able to stay and play in the freezing water on a hot day, and hike the 1.5mi back to the car without anyone being carried. 3mi. I thought if we practiced and practiced we could do it. Maybe, by the end of the color. September. That was what I was hoping for.

We started practicing a few months ago with friends and lots of snacks. It was going well, so I thought. Each time out brought us a little farther down the path.

Then came yesterday. We went out to hike. No friends-just me, the posse, and ever interested in new smells Joki, and of course A LOT of snacks-because somehow we didn't make it out until it was almost lunch time. But it was a lovely blue sky kind of day so we were not going to miss it. We were headed to the Falls trailhead but then I remembered how crowded its been lately. A lot of tourists are starting to come through town and that's the preferred trail for them. I get it. It beautiful. It's fairly short and easy.
But not yesterday. I didn't want to meet a million people on the way-I still was not sure of Joki and how he does with meeting other dogs on the trail.

So I turned the car around with lots of 'Why aren't we stopping momma?! I want to hike!!' and found ourselves a trail we have visited many times but not hiked all the way. I thought I knew the path, though and where it would come out-a big loop. Easy.

We first had to rock hop across a very wide stream which Sis did with agility and balance I didn't know she had. She didn't need me to help her really at all. And then we needed snacks. And I told myself 'Ami, it's the being out here part that counts-if we only walk a little bit and have to head back that is ok' It's hard sometimes for my task-oriented-just-finish-a-thing self to be flexible with the needs of little people.

After the snacks I heard 'Im getting tired' and we'd been out for 15 minutes. Yikes.

But the lead hiker hiked on. The rear hiker continued picking up sticks and rocks, looking at ants, and pretending to be Dusty Crophopper as he trailed behind us never closer than 20 feet to me-the middle hiker. Lead hiker ran and danced, picked a lovely bouquet of very bright colored wildflowers 'for my daddy. I really miss him'. We started up a big hill and they wanted to quit-but I just wanted to get to the top of the hill to see what was there because we've never done this trail before. So I say we hike up to the top and then turn around. They agree. But we get to the top and it it just keeps going up and up and up. And the posse keeps finding red ants, and green (boy) butterflies leading us on, and white (girl) butterflies showing new rocks and new colored flowers and I roll with it. We keep heading up. Although I'm thinking I might have to pay for this decision later. We meet a friend and her dog-we say hello and pass quickly so the dogs don't have time to stop listening. Joki was awesome. We meet another dog and Joki was awesome. I now have confidence in his ability to meet dogs and listen to me about where he needs to be and what he needs to be doing. We reach the summit of our long trek up-I think its great timing, definitely time to head down. But the trail doesn't go down. It's just flat. We are walking along the side of one rim of the canyon. And singing songs and walking on logs and climbing up rocks.  Eventually we start to go down-I'm relived, I can see the parking lot in the distance-but then we start walking the opposite direction from the car…what? I'm a little concerned now about how far we are going to have to walk. I know that this trail does not go past a certain point but that point is very far. But no one is complaining. We just keep going. Bub is trailing a little farther so I pick him up for a few minutes. We take some water breaks. Joki is slowing down and starting to walk with us instead of running ahead of us a little more.

After forever we finally see the blue diamonds-the ones that mark the trail we are on-we haven't seen those in a long time! We run to each one knowing it's bringing us back to the car.

We looped around exactly like I thought we would-I just didn't know that it was (in my best estimation) 3mi. that looped. I thought it was more like 1-1.5. It took us 2.5 hours-a lot of breaks. A lot of playing and singing and looking at ants, beetles, bees, spiders, flowers, logs… but this posse did the thing that I had set as a goal to reach by the end of the summer. 3 mi!! And they were happy. They were still feeling strong. They were hungry. And ready to stop and see some fish in a place the river pools. But they did it. And had no idea what they had just accomplished. It was no big deal to them.

Just another day living life in the mountains.

But I cannot get over how strong they are and how much endurance they have. And what amazing things this kind of life is going to teach them about life as they grow...

With her bouquet for daddy

Sis carried these for the entire hike-they lived to be put in water where they are perking up a bit

PS the Rock Stars were exhausted and cranky last night and this morning…it was totally worth it.

The 57 hour adventure

One thing that was forgotten in all the wonderfulness of catching up with old friends: stolen wallet.

No driver's liscence, no credit card, no cash, no nothing.

Having flown from the cowboy state getting past the TSA on the way back seemed like it was going to be an issue. But it wasn't. Husband FedExed all important identifying papers to me.
I read all the TSA info available online, and this seemed like the most plausible easiest way for me to get through.

What all the info didn't say was that if you do not have a photo ID-no matter how many or how 'good' your papers are-you are going to get pat down and have your bag searched. No matter that I am by myself with a 2 & 3 yr old. I take a deep breathe and do my best to keep everyone moving through the chaos and try and explain to them what is going to happen while I'm not exactly sure myself. I just know that after the x-ray I am not allowed to touch them or our stuff…I can't help them put their backpacks back on and people are pushing on all sides. Some people are even trying to help and getting scolded by the TSA agent like I'm a criminal. Some people are offended for me 'Really? You are doing this to HER?? She has two kids with her!!!' They are totally ignored.

Sis was a bit freaked out. Bubs refused to listen. But we survived. It was fine. We found our gate. We sat down. We ate peanut butter and jelly. We got on the plane.

Our seats weren't together, and the woman who I needed to trade seats with in order to be with the posse didn't speak English and was cranky. She just said 'NO!' and sat down next to a worried looking Bubs and Sis.

A Spanish speaking kind stranger helped us figure it out…so we are settled in for the flight to Denver. Quick change to Salt Lake City. Almost there. Just a few more hours (I think.)

Right outside Denver we have to start circling because there is a huge storm over the airport. Bubs needs a nap but is instead crawling on top of me, taking his seat belt on and off, standing up and asking everyone he sees what their name is.

OH! And my phone is basically dead. 10% battery left. No movies to entertain, no communication.

An hour goes by and we have to land in Colorado Springs bc we are low on fuel….but so are all the other planes that have been circling for an hour…so we sit there for 2.5. hours. We stand in line for 15 minutes to use the bathroom with Sis (who hasn't peed all day) screaming 'I don't like this potty!!!!!!!!! Don't flush it!! I don't like this potty!!!!!!!!!!!!' We meet a cat traveling with it's owner. We tell stories even though I am so exhausted that I'm hardly keeping my eyes open (I'm a traveler who likes to nap-you can't do this when you are the only adult…so I'm having a hard time resisting the urge to nap) We sing songs. I worry about how and if we are going to catch the next Salt Lake flight…but not too much because everything has bee grounded in Denver.

We finally take off. And land and taxi and taxi because all the other planes are landing too. We finally get off the plane and it is past 6 o'clock. We left KC at 130. They said there would be a customer service representative to help us get on our next flight but there are SO MANY people and Bubs does NOT want to hold me hand but run and run that I cannot find this representative. All I know is that we missed our flight and the next one was supposed to leave at 9p but is now delayed until 1030p. YIKES!!!!

I just really need to get my phone charged so I can let people know what's going on. We walk up and down the concourse looking-scouring every corner for an outlet. I'm basically dragging the posse. They don't want to walk with me. Or walk at all. We find one right outside a Schlotsky's. We park it. Charge the phone, get some dinner (I at least have a few cash dollars thanks to my parents even if I have nothing else), and text and call and explain what it going on. Bub is eating off the dirty airport floor. Scooting around and getting in people's way. Sis doesn't want to eat anything. I scarf down half my sandwich, take a drink and start to feel better. We can do this. But it's time to go. Bub is eating off the airport floor!!! We look for the customer service representative again. Find her/him/them. At the end of a 200+ person line. We get in the back of the line. People line up after us. Bubs immediately starts rolling on the floor. Sis starts twirling and running into the people in front of us. They play tag running in circles around the people in front and behind us. We've been in line 15 minutes and have moved 2 feet. This is not going to work. I'm talking to Husband. He's going to get us a hotel (But then I'll have to do the whole pat down thing again only at this huge airport with lots more people…not really a positive thought at this point) more running around. More me saying 'you have to stand with me-you cannot run out of the line!' More Husband calling so I can't keep track and they run out and people almost trip over them, we almost spill lemonade all over the floor several times, the patience of our fellow line-waiters is running thin-they aren't in a good place either-and so is mine. Husband says no hotels are available. The airlines are buying up the rooms! Ok, next idea: rent a car. I don't have a driver's liscence!!  Running out of ideas. Running out of patience. It's 730. This line is going nowhere and my phone is going to die again because I only charged it to 30% last time to come stand in this line.
We look for a quiet(er) spot where we can still see the line. Park it and watch movies-while receiving and making phone calls. When I'm on the phone Bubs is in the middle of the walkway rolling of the floor. The whole airport feels tense and annoyed. Bub hasn't napped. Sis hasn't napped. They are exhausted. It's past their bedtime. The people we were standing with are not even half way to the front. Husband is having no luck rebooking us on the phone or online-everyone else is trying that too. Looks like we are going to have to sleep here…which means we are NOT going to sleep.
Husband has the idea that we need to find someone we know in Denver to come get us. But who do we know? We know one family but don't have their numbers…so he calls our parents to see if they know anyone. My mom does! A good friend of hers son and family lives there!!! She calls them and even though I haven't not seen this guy in a good ten years an we were never really friends-he is younger than me- and he lives an hour from the airport he will come pick us up! We can stay with him tonight and figure things out in the morning. !!!!!!! I feel so relieved. I do not have to 'sleep' at the airport with the posse.
While we are waiting for this rescue I find an airline agent in a short line that I can talk to-Bubs is crawling and rolling on the floor. Sis is trying to run behind the counter in the opposite direction. Awesome. The agent says he can't rebook me because thats like cutting in line. His advice? Get comfortable and watch the line. Oh, and if I leave the airport and come back in the morning they can't rebook me there-it has to be here or online or on the phone. We are definitely leaving so Husband needs to get that done.

But really-I just want him to come get us. I know its a long way. I know he has just worked 9 really long hard shifts in a row. But I cannot even think about spending the night, going through the whole pat down thing, getting on another plane, arriving in SLC, probably spending another night with friends and driving the 5 hours home ALL BY MYSELF. I could do it. If I had to. But I really don't want to. It sounds awful. It sounds like I might lose my mind…or just cry the whole way home. I don't want to be anywhere near an airport or planes for a good while.

But we have a dog now (I haven't talked about him yet!) So we need to figure that out. I text our friend who knows Joki really well.

It's 930 at least by the time we are outside the main terminal waiting for the white CR-V to rescue us. Sis cried on the way out because she really didn't want to stay with a stranger. While talking with my mom for a second Bub tried to climb UP the down escalator with people on it. All that flashed through my mind was an episode of Rescue 911 where a kids shirt gets stuck in the teeth of the escalator. It's scarred me.
Sis is whimpering that she is so tired and feet are hurting so bad.

But then the white car pulls up. I've never got in anything so quickly. We are out of the airport. No more recycled air. It takes 5 minutes for the posse to fall asleep-Sis sitting straight up. We drive the hour, we get out, we get settled in a dark guest room with one twin mattress and one toddler mattress on the floor with lots of blankets and pillows. It feels like a room at the fanciest hotel. It's dark. It's quiet. It's warm. We settle in fall asleep pretty quickly. And sleep. And sleep.

Our friend calls to say that she can't watch Joki but she knows someone she would recommend…are we ok with that? Yes! We are.

Husband called on the drive home. He is going to come get us. He can't get through to the airline. He's going to leave early in the  morning on his first day off in 9 days off and drive 6 hours to get us. I'm elated.
We spend the day making new friends, playing at the neighborhood park, praying we don't stink too badly and pretending we don't feel the fuzz on our teeth.

After a couple hours of not hearing from Husband I start to get really worried…although I shouldn't. He is driving through Wyoming and suddenly a car pulls up! We are saved! But his phone is not working…he needs a new one.

We go to Target (where the whole mess of having my wallet stolen started) to pick up a few needed things-our bags are in Salt Lake City- our friends will pick them up and drive our Jeep back up to Lander for us so we don't have to drive over there too.

We drive to a hotel and settle in for the first night in almost two weeks that we all have been together.

We get up eat a leisurely breakfast-make one more Target stop…It will be awhile before we are back-and make the drive home. We stop to see friends and get a new phone along the way so it takes a bit longer than it should.

But the relief on everyone's faces and in their attitudes is palpable.

Vacation was so fun.
But we are so glad to be home.
We are so glad to be back together.
We are so glad that there are people out there who are willing to help others out…without their kindness this would have been a different (more horrible??) story.