LOST A SOCK

The Life List

It is no real secret that I am quite goal oriented.  I've spent the last three years overhauling the very essence of my self, searching for truth and learning to embrace with gratitude each of my experiences, good or bad, for how it can mold me.  In 2007 I started a list of goals for my life- one hundred of them because I like nice, even numbers.  As things go, I became busy and my list was shelved and briefly forgotten. 

Then in mid-summer this year I really felt a pull back to my list.  I resumed working on it, asking myself again and again what I really, really wanted to do in my lifetime.  Fairly in touch with my personal callings-- that is, knowing at least what intuitively feels right and not right for myself, I included things that were ridiculously easy but meaningful, and things that possibly would take a bit of effort on my part.  Each item means something to me.  I do not concern myself with when any of it will take place, or how, and I am very open to creating edited drafts should the need arise in years to come.  I'll never back down from a goal because it seems difficult or unreachable. 

I never intended to post my list here, until recently when my girlfriend Bree posted hers on her own blog.  Suddenly it made sense that I, too, could share my own life goals.  The 07's are mixed together with the 09's here, which is why some have been completed and crossed off the list.

My Life List of 100

1. Stand in Times Square, NYC
2. Own both of our vehicles outright
3. Homeschool for as long as possible with each of my children
4. Photograph the Northern Lights of Alaska
5. Go camping as a family
6. Write a book and publish it
7. Pay off my (undergrad) student loans
8. Adopt a child from Africa
9. Then adopt more
10. Get a tattoo
11. Eat raw for seven days

 
12. Make a quilt for Nathan
13. Finish losing weight, and stay there
14. Meet Oprah
15. Take Jack on a real train ride
16. Grow my hair long
17. See Paris, France with Kevin
18. Visit Scotland's Eilean Donan Castle with Kevin
19. Own a laptop
20. Throw myself a girlfriend party with all my best girls
21. Spend a sunny summer afternoon on a boat

 
22. Take the boys to Lego Land
23. Sell our first house for (*) profit
24. Bike ride as a family
25. Donate $10,000
26. Inspire someone
27. Pet an elephant
28. Have a home office
29. Own a nice camera with lenses
30. Lay on a blanket beneath the stars, away from the city lights where they can really be seen

 
31. Cry tears of joy
32. Own a jean jacket
33. Photograph glaciers
34. Be fearless in public
35. Earn my Masters Degree
36. Thank (college professor) for the wonderful, human lessons she taught me about being a teacher
37. Hear the Dalai Lama speak in person, here in the United States or far away where the Tibetan Prayer Flags fly

 
38. Take in the Rocky Moutntains in Colorado
39. Publish a book of photographs I've taken, just for myself
40. Take a writing class
41. Attend Maria Shriver's Women's Conference
42. Make a twirling skirt for Marin
43. Photograph Marin in her twirling skirt
44. Tour the Eastern Seaboard in Peak Fall
45. See a Broadway show
46. Attend a Notre Dame game as a family
47. Learn to meditate
48. Drink a beer in a Boston bar
49. Live in my perfect house, detailed with beautiful baseboards, oversized windows and a library, surrounded by tall trees
50. Feel truest peace in my heart
51. Learn to play the accoustic guitar
52. Spend a weekend in Las Vegas

 
53. Complete a Breast Cancer walk for my Aunt Kathy 
54. Be a keynote speaker
55. Start my own charity
56. Befriend my daughter(s)
57. Buy a Thomas the Tank Engine table for the boys
58. Attend a spiritual seminar at The Omega Institute
59. Run a 5K
60. Own two-inch heels and wear 'em proud
61. Attend the religious services/places of worship for twenty faiths (As of late 2009, Catholic, Lutheran, Episcopal, Baha'i)

 
62. Enjoy fine dining
63. Catch fireflies with my kids
64. Be humble
65. Host an incredible Christmas party
66. Attend a tent revival
67. Own stainless steel appliances
68. Open my own retirement account
69. Rock my sister's baby
70. Attend a week-long silent retreat
71. Indulge my African connection
72. Earn my PhD
73. Teach my children to swim
74. Go RVing! with Kevin
75. Make my own summer dress
 
76. Cross and photograph the Brooklyn Bridge in NY, Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco, Perrine Bridge in Idaho, Royal Gorge Bridge in Colorado, George Washington Bridge in NY/NJ, Mackinac Bridge in Michigan, Tower Bridge in London and Pont de Normandie in France
77. See a panda bear in person
78. Take my children on an airplane flight
79. Give excellent advice
80. Go horseback riding (as an adult)
81. Meet my dearest Internet friends
82. Habitually give meaningful gifts

 
83. Own a Mercedes Benz
84. Make bracelets for each of my girlfriends
85. Wear braided hair
86. Author an important essay
87. Own a piano
88. Paint on canvas and display it at home
89. Send my children to college, and others too
90. Ride a camel
91. Write an important letter
92. Hatch chicks with KJ
93. See the Vatican in Rome, Italy
94. Set foot in all Fifty States together with Kevin (as of late 2009, 24 of 50)
95. See the Argentine Patagonia
96. Grow a large back yard vegetable garden
97. Eat a fancy cupcake in a charming little cupcake shop
98. Visit Holland, MI in peak tulip season
99. Become a grandmother
100. Serve Thanksgiving dinner to a long, festive table of my favorite guests

Typical Party Attire

Happy Halloween! 

Stuff of Life

Yesterday was my ninth wedding anniversary. 

It didn't make my blog, but I didn't forget.  In fact, I spent most of the afternoon making Kevin one of those fabulously sappy videos I am notorious for, only to have it disappear into thin air juuust before I saved the finished product. 

Thankfully, he was able to console himself with the twelve string guitar I bought for him. 

(Wife of the year?  Check.)

*

My friend Breain has inspired me to start running.  So far, I love it. 

*

Earlier this month, lost in the thick of homeschool, laundry and long fall walks, I met with a new doctor concerning the state of my reproductive organs; to tumor or not to tumor.

Not to tumor, my kind new doctor tells me, and probably not even the ovarian cancer before long, as had been predicted last year by my previous physician.  Not really the need for tests every couple months now that we are past one year, and not really the need to worry about what monsters, in the form of really bad news, could be lurking around the corner anymore.  Many people have something like this, and then never again, she says.

Having buried my aunt just a few months ago, after her tough battle with breast cancer, knowing what she went through and how it ended, my second opinion sort of sounds like a new lease on life-- Raise your family, write your book, adopt your African babies.  You're okay now.

Beautiful relief.

*

I recently finished another quilt.  It is perfect, just like sweet little boy I made it for.

*

My husband works in a tall building in downtown Chicago, and on his walk to and from there every day, he encounters many homeless people. 

He often gives them dollars from his wallet, and sometimes we buy a handful of gift cards to cover a couple meals each, and he hands them out.  He stops all the time to ask people how they are and if they need anything that he can help with.  He has a friend that we pack the occasional bag for, with clothing and toiletries, and he sometimes brings him dinner late at night, on his way back to the train.  Recently he bought another man dinner, and stayed to sit across the table from him as he ate, listening to the man tell his story of how he ended up on the streets.

I won the husband lottery.

*

My oldest child, who I brought home for first grade because he is a brilliant little boy, who I committed myself to educating in the most hands-on ways by running with his best curiosities, who has finished his first grade math book in the first eight weeks of school and nearly all of spelling, who I love with my whole heart and soul, is showing strong signs of Attention Deficit Disorder.  My instincts tell me so, as does everything I know from being a licensed special education teacher, but I will wait on the official word from a child psychologist down the road.

Add to the list of ten thousand reasons why we homeschool, because I am the teacher who will stop at nothing to ensure his success.

*

My children somehow each ended up with two or three Halloween costumes apiece this year.  I can hardly figure how there grew so many, but we've had great fun with it so far.  Turns out everyone loves Batman in Target, and a baby pumpkin at the library.

*

On my way home late this evening, with my three children asleep in their car seats, I witnessed a high speed police chase.  The vehicle being pursued was driving at least seventy miles per hour on a four-lane street through town, headed East.  I was headed West, and while nearing a red light I realized in great horror that the car approaching the red light on the other side, with the flashing red and blue on its tail, was going to blow through the intersection. 

He did.  He smashed into a truck, sending it skidding to the other side the road, and then he veered across the median into oncoming traffic for a moment, where mine was the first vehicle approaching the red light.  Had I been a second or two earlier, actually stopped there, he would have hit my car head on. 

He skidded back into his own lane again and hit the gas.  A minute later the hood of his car flew up to cover his windshield, and the chase came to an end.  The light turned green and I continued towards home with my intestines quivering and every hair on the back of my neck standing up, thankful for only a close call.

*

All is well.

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. Beautiful boy.

Back in the long, drawn-out fall of 2005, when I was at my heaviest weight ever and pregnant with my second son, I spent months of worrisome time on bed rest, trying to keep my blood pressure down and my contractions quiet, attempting to keep my growing baby inside until it was time.  Or at least, closer to time. 

I was due to have Jack in February, and knew there would be trouble when by October my blood pressure began to rise with each doctor visit.  I began having contractions on and off in November, still three months too early, and by December I was admitted to the hospital, undergoing repeated ultrasounds and preemie lung steroids, laying perfectly still so as to require my body to put all of its efforts into growing and sustaining my baby for as long as possible.  And week by week we celebrated further development, better hopes for breathing and ounces of weight gain for the baby. 

Spending a good part of that Christmas season in the hospital, I had a good deal of quiet time to read and think, which is imaginably less than the norm, being mom to an active three year old at home. During one of my stays I brought with me Raising Boys (choosing the book because, yes, the obvious title, but also because back then I was feeling quite romantic about the whole idea of raising two adorable little boys just like those on the cover of the book, who stood perfectly still and quiet for pictures.)  (Act of God.)  One of the nurses I'd gotten to know, who had raised three boys of her own, gave me a knowing laugh, and even called over another nurse to point out my book when she noticed what I was reading.  And together they gave me the "just wait and see" speech from atop their collective male-raising soap box. 

I, of course, at the time with just one three year old child, understood the penchant for climbing and noise, and pummeling his father on the living room floor at every opportunity, but I'd not yet raised boys.  Boys who had been influenced by the world outside and had each other to try it out on; who would enjoy tackling each other almost as much as they do their father, and who care nothing for clothing or washing but everything about guitar solos, and constructing the absolute tallest towers and subsequently crashing them to the ground.  In the noisiest ways possible, of course, followed by the most ear drum-splitting cheers. 

So I was still a fairly new mom, all things considered, and still believed all things child-raising to be mostly within my control (clearly only three pages into the book.) I told myself that MY boys would not grow up all crazy and loud like what the nurses had described.  It was all in the upbringing, I told myself. 

Jackson was born on January 1st, the New Years Baby at our hospital, weighing a tiny four pounds but with all the fight in the world.  He breathed on his own even as premature as he was, and he ended up needing only a little special care. 

I was unable to finish reading my book.

Fast forward four years to where I am a mother of three, now, and cannot seem to find those original parenting ideas anywhere, as they're probably buried beneath a stack of Autobot drawings, junk mail and homeschool workbooks, stuck to the bottom of a painted page that was thrown in the pile before the largest glops of paint had completely dried. 

Earlier this week I was sharing an afternoon at the park with a mom-friend of mine, who is raising five and two year old boys, and we casually shared our chaos-containing stories like they were completely normal, because by now they are, and we both love them dearly.  Our boys darted around, climbing up the slides and hopping down from too-tall platforms, blasting each other with pretend weapons, yelling at the tops of their lungs and yielding sticks.  I was once a little nervous to raise all of this, infinitely less familiar than my husband with the need for motion, guns and bad guys, as I grew up a girl.  Not a girly-girl, but a bit more subdued, nonetheless.  (Verified by another friend of mine as we discussed it just this morning over coffee and children playing everywhere, that no, not so much with the little girls and the blasting each other.  You?  Same experience?)  (I digress.)

From the park we then herded our five young children, their parade of scooters and our two large strollers into the back corner booth (because we might be nuts, but we're not crazy) of the close-by Dairy Queen where we showered our crowd with a fun evening of cheeseburgers and chocolate-dipped ice cream cones. 

The floor around our table was a disaster by the end, and our children were covered in ketchup and chocolate- a few of them all the way to the ankles of their already grass-stained jeans.  And they'd managed to paint chocolate goatees on themselves before we noticed, laughing their fool heads off, loudly, of course.

In passing my friend had heard the teenage girls behind the counter discussing our brood-- the moms with the seven little kids (clearly unable to keep count with all of the the excited leaping, hopping and jumping in the back corner...ish) like it was quite the scene.  And when she shared that conversation with me, we both laughed, and I pointed out that ten years ago?  We too would have thought this quite the scene.  And yet now how we adore the scene.

Before I had two little boys, and three children, I had so much to learn.  When it comes to anything with motherhood I am always grateful that God grows us into our roles, and into their ages.  This certainly comes with good reason. 

It wasn't too many years ago that I seriously worried about all of the tackling, noise level and mess with my two guys, and whether it was even normal, or good.  Their relationships with me, our love for each other, so unique and fantastic, and yet no matter what rules I imposed or rewards I offered, only rarely could I acheive the calm I assumed I could bring to my guys with a mom's influence. 

In my earliest days of motherhood I held tightly to the belief that with enough discipline, children would simply behave, and that all of the glares in public could be avoided.  I had yet to grow into my understanding that judgments and nasty looks are, for the most part, adult problems.  Kids are the most free, teaching beings around, happy to be exactly who they are and do whatever comes most natural to them.  It is the grown-ups, who will be the first to tell you they know it all, who impose so many social rules- sometimes for good reason and other times straight from the pit of our own neuroses and insecurities. 

In perfect timing with our chocolate ice cream escapade of two nights ago, I had just finished reading Broken Open by Elizabeth Lesser, another mom of boys.  And in one part of her book she talks about what she calls the Vroom Vroom Gene, where no matter what fair play she had exposed her boys to, in a room of little guys and little girls one will almost always witness a particular group with their dump trucks, going vroom vroom across the floor.  I find it so endearing. (As I do the friend-making, dolly-lovin' witnessed with little girls, though that's for another post.)

I have become so seasoned to the Vroom Vroom Gene over the years, and yet it is all so fresh and new as we venture from babyhood through toddlerhood and preschool-ville, now into the real deal of boyhood in year seven with my oldest.  And I feel myself growing again, with a child ready to pull away from me in ways I didn't expect, who knows more than I imagined and believes he knows even more than that.  Wonderful and terrifying all in the same, as always. 

*

As an aside I need to mention, perfectly fitting as I stopped typing here to eat dinner with my little family, that I spent a good portion of our rainy, chilly afternoon peeling, chopping and seasoning my home-made vegetable soup for tonight's dinner.  I prepared two seperate pots- one with meat for those so inclined, and one with lentils.  All afternoon I boiled and simmered, tasted, added and checked on to ensure a nice dinner for tonight.

Kevin arrived home from work at seven, and as I typed away here, he filled soup bowls and set out spoons.  We finished dinner and just before leaving the dinner table, my three year old announced, "You made the best vegetable soup ever, dad!" 

(And now that I've hit on the boy loyalty, I think we've covered everything.  Heh.)

Mmmmmm

I have a confession to make... 

There is something I've been doing a whole lot of lately.

Like it's my job.

I've invited it to live in my house,

and I've been bathing my children in it.

Sunday drives, Saturday walks, Tuesday afternoon playground beneath the trees.  No matter.

Ohhh the colors.  The Oaks, Maples, Sassafras, Tree of Heaven, you name it. 

The sunlight and the shadows are just different in the fall.  The sky is another shade of blue that is more lovely than usual, and the breeze has this sound and it carries those smells.

Even the water is prettier at this time of year, if that be possible.

These are not the leaves of last year, or the year before.  Each one lived its whole life this past summer and we will not see these particular ones ever again after the yellow, orange and red, and after they fall.  They did not worry if it was too short or long or hot or cool of a summer, or if for sure they would know the way to their new hues when the time arrived.  Or how they would let go of the branches.  And they've turned out absolutely gorgeous, and perfect.  

There are lessons in fall.

Last year we attempted a fall outing or two, being it my favorite time of year, and it was rough.  We had a brand new baby who was neither fond of the car nor bunting nor the cool air.

And just one year later she's joining the rest of the crew, climbing playground equipment as much as I'll allow. 

How did that happen so fast?

I've photographed all of this so many times over the last several years, but I still can't get enough.  If the sun is shining, we are back out, somewhere.

...Sometimes in southern Michigan, evading local law enforcement for photographing a house that neither belongs to myself and my husband, nor, say, anyone else on the planet we know.

(It isn't my fault they've created the perfect autumn porch, right?)

(No, ma'am, I wasn't trying to photograph you.  Just your mums...)

Okay fine, and this secluded beauty too.  But only because I could imagine myself someday living in it.  After buying it, in the most legal ways possible.

(No one was home.  Geez, look at the empty driveway!)

I love you, pumpkin.

Intoxicating, isn't it?

If you need me, you know where to find me.

Only as far from your property line as my zoom lens will reach, if you've got nice foliage.

Or, in the slammer. 

If I'm unlucky.

Of Fall

 

 

 

 

 

 

Win-fail, fail-win, win, win, fail, win.

I keep thinking that there is going to be a spectacular event where I sit down at the computer for a period of eight plus minutes in order to, you know, actually string thoughts together, but that time has just not presented itself as of recent.  Which means that tonight I blow my new Taking Back Bedtime streak because I miss my blog.  (Note: In recent weeks I have decided it against my better judgment to blow the reasonable bedtime hour streak for cleaning bathrooms, dusting my family room, folding laundry and trimming my up-late-anyway son's hair, all of which are neglected something awful as well.  But you're worth my precious hours of sleep, Internet.) (At least that's how I am calling it tonight.) 

After we came home from our trip I had grand visions of discussing homeschool on the road, and now we've been home for three weeks and I believe that ship has sailed.  I think I've cooked up seven more homeschool posts since then, because hey, this is really cool! and I'd like to document it!  And yet the very process of which I am so hoping to capture is what keeps me from writing anything at all. 

What I am saying is that we've picked apples at the orchard, fed goats from our hands, attended gobs of free library programs, blazed through three quarters of the first grade math book in the first month of school and can sing multiple cheesy songs about the vowels, but my downstairs bathroom's not been swept in three weeks and I can't seem to find time to blaawwwwg.  I (think) I've got my priorities straight, but I must admit that had no idea what I was signing up for when I took on this new little jobbie. 

Also since I was last around, my sister Sant & Leslie set a commitment ceremony date (which we supporters of human rights, gay and otherwise, like to call a wedding date,) we walked the Chicago Breast Cancer 5K for my Aunt Kathy, both Jackson and myself survived the swine flu and succeeded at not gifting it to anyone else in the house (win!) and Kevin and I got to meet Wayne Dyer for the second time this year.  Also, I painted our downstairs office the colors of the seashore.  These days and weeks are most definitely busy ones.

My seven-year-old's rendition of Mount Rushmore, in one of our biggest homeschool projects yet. 

In the initial phases of this book project, I feared that it might go on until next year's vacation, with my older child's disdain for writing and the massive quantity of experiences to be documented, but I learned over the course of two weeks that some things simply take more time than others (gold!) and in the end I hold two precious thirty-page books authored and illustrated by fun-loving little boys who had a fine trip.

And now my three-year-old has not only memorized the vowels, but he also recognizes Presidents Washington, Jefferson, Roosevelt and Obrahand Lincoln, for the love of Pete.  And here I thought this first year of homeschool was going to benefit his older brother the most.

Youngest offspring desperately waves for attention from down below in Baby Bjorn, or attempts to twist and pull, twist and pull her own red delicious from the branch above.

Homeschool is everything I had hoped and many things I hadn't thought of all at once.  Now that we've settled into some sort of rhythm and have found our pace by subject, I've finally been released from worries about time wasting and who's learning what and if it's on time or too fast or slow.  There are two students in this class (and one small monkey who steals fallen crayons and scraps of paper) and our days move as they will, quickly as we read about squirrel nests and beaver dams, and slowly when it comes to practicing penmanship.  I am shocked at how well Jack has taken to learning letters and sounds when just six months ago-- three months ago, he had almost no interest whatsoever.  To be honest, I hadn't planned to formally do much at all with him this year, though through his insistence I find myself running in circles to stay on top of his interests just as I do his brother's.  ...Which means I am quickly learning how parents can spend heaps upon tons of money on home education with only my handful of teacher's store trips in six little weeks of classes. 

Watin' on the old school bus apple picking tractor. 

The one thing about the last six weeks that has not failed to blow me away time and time again is my freedom to mother on a whole new level.  So silly to think that many of the art projects and song singing, extra reading times throughout the day and board games were put off in so many instances before now, and I don't even have a solid reason why it was that way.  I was too busy with too many household chores, I thought, or it would make a big mess or require too much time or energy, or whatever was my reasoning in sometimes moments past.  Which of course does not at all infer that I commonly ignored my children's requests for attention or play, but now aware that I am mom and school and teacher alike, I have a million new reasons to read extra books and bring out the paints, scissors and hole punchers just because that's what we are home to do.  It has been fun, a whole lot of fun, to shower my kids with hours upon hours of extra activities (see dirty bathroom scenario above) and be exactly the type of parent that I really want to be.

We've done fall leaf rubbings and played with math dice for Hershey Kiss prizes.  We've written lots of stories with capital letters and punctuation and illustrations, and taken turns reading books to each other.  Our enjoyable day-trips have taken on new meaning as now more than ever I find myself keeping eyes open for teachable moments about the world and God and whatever else I might not have been able to explain while they were away at school.  And they're young enough to be so open to all of it (okay, most of it, if not the damn penmanship) as long as I can peacefully hook their attention each morning.

 
Child breaks it down pencil-microphone style in the kitchen

Because I am forever the short and long-term planning type, I can't help but wonder, often, how long we can do this for.  I mean, in the world of best case scenarios I could see myself homeschooling all three, four, six or seven of our children all the way through middle school.  It works now, very well with a first grader and a preschooler around baby naps while I appear fairly fun in their eyes, still.  But I shudder to think how I might present seventh grade history lessons at the same time as shapes, letters and punctuation (again!) to smaller children.  (Thankfully, I taught middle school Algebra and Science my first year out of college, so those don't scare me.)  I wonder how messy I will have to allow my house to get in order to be fully present for all of those lessons with all of those children (and what if I can't even find some of the children some days to educate, lost beneath piles of clean and dirty laundry, and dust?) and when exactly I will steal time to do things for myself, like blog if those still exist, and eventually earn my Master's degree. 

I suppose I didn't worry about how I would teach KJ his colors while he was learning to crawl (okay, FINE, I DID) so I should probably let this go too, and let life have it's own way with whatever should happen down the road.

Now is good.

Vacation Too

I had every intention of posting the entries about our vacation back to back, so as not to drag things out every bit as long as our trip.  But we have been home (home-ish) for six days now and here I am, still attempting to give proper attention to the forever beautiful Rocky Mountains.

Onward, right?

We were privy to the first signs of fall (now underway, ohhh my smiling heart) on our trip as we made our first stop on a rainy Colorado day at the Air Force Academy.

Our hotel in Colorado Springs overlooked the campus, so naturally the boys loved watching various aircraft fly over as we came and went.  I was still busy drooling over the mountains-- newly snow-capped, even, just as we arrived.

I had visited the chapel there, back when I was fifteen years old, and have remembered it fondly ever since, with its non-denominational services, perfect stained glass colors and architectural details.  An OCD gal's best dream, I tell you.

And speaking of best dreams-- this is where the skies cleared for us later in the afternoon as we stumbled upon Cheyenne Mountain completely by accident.  Don't you love it when the best days seem to show up out of nowhere?  It was us and these giants, and God, I tell you.

And a waterfall. 

When we parked here I utilized my final bars of cell phone service to send a quick picture message to our relatives telling them we wouldn't be returning home after all.  You can see why one would want to live here, yes?  (Our relatives directed us to send the children home via Amtrack.  The loyalty, it is no longer ours.)

Later we pulled off the trail again so that the boys could give mountain climbing a go, bright, fresh mud be damned, because how often do little kids from the Utterly Flat Chicago Area get to say they've climbed mountains?  I gladly stripped them of their muddy clothes and shoes and re-dressed them on the spot before vehicle re-entry, thankful that we had yet to unload our gear into the hotel room for that day. 

Of course, you know the two little boys weren't the only ones to get involved in the climb, right?  Here Kevin had to take KJ up just a bit farther...

Later in the week we also visited Seven Falls, where there was more climbing, both upward---

and down,

and we took an all-too-short afternoon stroll through some of the charming shops and old antique arcades at Manitou Springs. 

Kevin and I promised each other that on a return trip, we will spend an entire day here.  Possibly without children to see The Forbidden Shops of Breakables.  (Parents of young children everywhere tremble with fear, simultaneously.)

One afternoon we ventured through Garden of the Gods, which involved more climbing, lifting and pretending feats of strength of the male variety,

and then finally that evening we were able to meet up with our Colorado bloggy friends.  SJ and I have known each other since Jack and Isaac were babies, living parallel lives in different parts of the country with boys of the same ages, married to Kevin's and mothers of Kevin Jr's, and camera equipment and weight loss stories, and on and on it goes.  I do love the internet, for this. 

My goal for my thirty-first birthday was to walk across the Royal Gorge Bridge, suspended more than one thousand feet over the Arkansas River, and we did.

This bridge! 

We spent the final days of our trip watching the sun set over New Mexican mountains,

spent a night in Amarillo Texas, and drove all the way across the very, very red dirt plains and through the cities of Oklahoma before clipping Kansas, and driving across Missouri and Illinois, back across the border to Indiana.  

We broke all of the rules- eating candy at ten o'clock in the morning,

jumping on beds well past bedtime,

and sometimes driving a little too fast with the windows a little too open, which seemed a little too hilarious to our littlest two kids.

I've already opened a discussion with Kevin as to when and where we can go next.

Full set of pictures here, on flickr.

During which we added nearly 3,400 miles to our car

We have been home for three days now, and I've mostly gotten things unpacked, in between washing ninety-four loads of laundry, cleaning house, running errands, cutting grass, homeschooling, celebrating Sant's 28th birthday and steam cleaning our family room carpet twelve times, thanks to our miserable canine, who decided to it use as his personal pissing space the whole time we were away.  Not that he didn't have an entire entrouage of extended family letting him out and playing with him a couple times each day.  Nonono. 

So as of this afternoon I can add to the list of things I've done, Ordered four hundred square feet of new family room carpeting.  Isn't that the kind of money everyone wants to shell out three days after returning home from a long vacation?  Meh.

At least we have this going for us!  As our very first vacation stop we visited Olympic Gymnast Shawn Johnson's Iowa gym.  KJ has long loved her (whatever long is for a six-year-old) so it was only natural that as we were rolling our tires through her state, we look up Chow's.  Can you see the Playing it Cool look in the boy's eyes?  Endearing and hysterical all at the same time.

(Jack on the other hand...nevermind.)

We have been blessed, and are yet to know whether it be by nature or nurture, with amazing car travelers.  We are very much an on-the-go family, so it was great fun to see so many places across the country with a crew who was, for the most part, patient enough to get there.  We stopped every couple hours for stretches, picnics and to throw the football around, and when we were lucky enough to have all three kids asleep at the same time, we gunned the engine for as long as possible, our own bladders be damned.

Also, we taught them to throw their hands up and scream as we flew down steeply-graded mountainsides.  For effect, you know.

By night two we'd gone from Indiana through Illinois, Iowa, Nebraska, quickly into Minnesota, and we sleepily dropped anchor in South Dakota.  There are many bugs in South Dakota.  Less now, thanks to our windshield. 

We visited the Corn Palace in Mitchell, South Dakota, by day and by night (maximizing on the Extreme Dork that is our tendency)

and I hooked up with a new Indian Baby Daddy out there

after Kevin ditched me for Sacajawea.  (Jerk)

Lots more quirky fun was had at Wall Drug in South Dakota, where Jack entered into holy matrimomy with a life-sized statue of a 1920's show girl (very scantily clad, and, uh, busty, might I add,) cracking up bus-loads of elderly folk as he conversed with his "Wifey" as she became.  And the only picture I have of Jack and Wifey, my new daughter-in-law, is blurry something awful, and stuck in my cell phone.  Score.

Later that day we finally reached our first major destination, Mount Rushmore!

I had been there a couple times as a kid, but didn't realize until we got there what a child's memory of the place I had.  It was so neat to see it as an adult, and to teach my own children about how the memorial was created, and why, and of which presidents were up there. 

In South Dakota we also visited Dinosaur Hill at sunset one night, which is so simple with its steep climb and aged, concrete giants, but also quite beautiful as it overlooks all of Rapid City, and many, many mountains.  Nothing could complete that evening better than knocking back some serious ice cream for the first time, I think, of forty, on the trip.   

We got up-close with the wildlife at Bear Country USA, which is a driving park filled with free-roaming (duh) bears, and also elk, buffalo, wolves and bighorn sheep.  We put these two out on a bench for hungry animals to snack on, but there were no takers.

Bear Country was the place where Jack purchased his first souvenir of the trip, a black bear named May.  May, the boy, to be exact. 

He loved May like I'd not seen him love many stuffed animals, excited to show May his first dvd, his second state, and so on.  Then we managed to leave May behind, several days later, in our hotel in Colorado Springs.  For the low, low price of twenty-some dollars (more than his original price tag, might I add) May took another route home, arriving on our porch today via Fed-Ex.  It's love, kids.

Next to driving, the thing we did the most of on this trip was swim, for sure.  Back in March when Kevin and I were in California, our greatest expenses involved fancy dinners and we barely saw our (inexpensive) hotel room.  On this trip with the kids, however, quality of hotel (and cleanliness, God Help Me) with indoor pool, water slide and sometimes separate bedrooms and kitchen were of top priority.  Fancy, quiet dinners?  Ha. Ha. Hahahahahaha. 

We swam every morning after breakfast, with the exception of our last morning, when road time was seriously of the essence.  I was so glad to indulge them in that every day, and sometimes even late at night.

After heading out of South Dakota we traveled through quite a bit of Wyoming, the eastern part of which was infinitely flatter than I had imagined, but no less pretty with it's golden grasses and unclaimed wildlife. 

It had a lot of nice buttes, too, heh heh.

And holy hell, may I not forget to mention the Casinos! Everywhere! in South Dakota and Wyoming.  Gas station casinos, restaurant casinos, strip mall casinos, old fast food restaurant buildings turned into casinos...  Crazy about gambling out there!

Being only half-way through our trip route, (now getting into Colorado!  See Rockies!?) I better pause here and check on my children's whereabouts.  (Only half kidding.)  I will be back with part the second soon.

Thirteen, including my own

So now that we are home, I finally get to jump up and down screeching, Guess where I spent my birthday!

Here is where!  Specifically, at the Royal Gorge Bridge in Colorado, suspended 1,053 feet over the Arkansas River. 

But also, we've spent ten days practically everywhere.

I can never be exactly sure how safe it is to tell the whole internet that my house will be void of persons (minus those kind souls stopping in to let my dog out) for a period of time, so then I don't get to share any of the fun that is leading up to a massive vacation.  But it is fun!  And it was fun!  And now the laundry and unpacking I am left with?!  Not as fun!

There is nothing like loading up a car, though, and driving across the country to see in person exactly where it is we live.  (Here, Wyoming.)  Spending most of my life in, or a stone's throw from, one of the largest cities in the country, it is never short of amazing to dig my feet into the dirt of the tiniest towns and fantastic cities to really know what we've got. 

We began in Indiana and straight across Illinois, and then visited Iowa, Nebraska, Minnesota, South Dakota, Wyoming, Colorado, New Mexico, Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas and Missouri, and back through the original two again.  We saw thirteen states this trip, bringing us to 24 of the 50.  Almost half way!

Thankfully, we are raising a pretty travel-savvy crew, so they're usually willing to go with the flow.  Multitudes of special vacation treats and daily swims don't hurt any, either, I will be the first to admit.

Now if you don't mind, I better go attack my laundry.  I've got three thousand loads of clothes to sort...right after I sort my three thousand pictures.  Can't wait to share the rest!