Living Full on Life

The Journey

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We just got back from a trip to Arizona for Thanksgiving to spend time with family for the holiday. This week I have been reading a book called, “Don’t Make Me Pull Over! An Informal History of the Family Road Trip.” by Richard Ratay. The book chronicles the events of how family road trips came into being and what happened to them. It discusses the inventions useful for road trips like that of the car, seat belts, entertainment consoles in cars, handheld gaming devices etc, as well as the history behind roads, highways, fast food restaurants, and motels. The author fondly remembers his trips in the family station wagon in the seventies and eighties and in the final chapters he writes about the first time his family flew on a plane to their destination instead of drove. I love what he wrote because I feel the same way about driving places. This is what he wrote:
“The plain fact was that other than purchasing our plane tickets, we’d made no real effort to reach our objective, as those men had – or even we’d always had in the past. There’d been no hardships, no squabbles, no hours of tedium, not even a worry that we’d missed a turn…Our flight had allowed us to soar over all the things that once made a family vacation…a family vacation. We’d taken a trip but we’d made no journey. And somehow it felt as though we hadn’t earned the right to enjoy our final destination.”

Another quote:
“More than anything else what made the family road trip so special was the feeling of being inextricably bound together in a great adventure. An adventure based less on where we were headed, and more in the moments we shared along the way.”

I love the joy of the journey. That is why we drive places. That is why we drove 8,500 miles this summer to Alaska and back or toured the southeast last summer. My kids are champion road warriors who barely blink at a trip of a mere 10 hours like we took yesterday. We love what we see on the journey. Truthfully though, if  you gave me a plane ticket anywhere I wouldn’t complain! I love to fly too. I guess the heart of it all is that I simply love going places.

More Bacon

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Sam and William have an excellent new violin/viola teacher. Monday at lessons she asked Sam to go home and immediately practice what they had covered in the lesson to solidify the technique. On our way home I asked Sam if he was planning on practicing like she suggested. He was not very excited to do it since he had just had a long lesson and an hour of practicing before his lesson (cramming). He told me he would if I supplied him with a month’s worth of endless bacon. We negotiated for a few moments then he stated, “Bacon is my currency.” It is nice to know what motivates the boy. Better bacon than the two things William (as a kindergartner) told me he loved most in the world: guns and money.

Falling Rainbows

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Today Anna came running in from playing in the falling snow. She said, “MOM! Mom! I have something to show you that is really amazing!!!” We ran outside and she pointed this out and said with all of the excitement that only a five-year-old can express, “A rainbow fell on the floor!!!”

I almost didn’t come out when she asked me to. I almost just saw a cracked and pitted driveway in need of repair. I almost felt annoyed that someone leaked oil on our driveway. Instead, thanks to the perspective of a child I saw the gift and wonder of a rainbow that fell on the floor just for our enjoyment. Thank you Anna.

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A Few Little things

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Friday night I was putting Anna to bed. As we were snuggling and talking I asked her what was the worst possible thing that could ever happen? She said, “Kissing a frog and then turning into one.” The best thing she could imagine?  Being able to snap her fingers and things just happening. Like Mary Poppins snapping her fingers and the room cleaning itself.

Also Friday night I was in charge of picking up one of the judges for Lizzie’s Irish dance competition (feis) held the next day. Our studio was running the feis and parent involvement was needed. I picked up a charming woman from upstate New York who had never been here before. She asked me to tell her a little about Utah. I told her about the culture, and climate (she wanted to know if it was as grey-skied as her hometown) and mountains. We also talked about the many recreational opportunities here. Then, kind of out of the blue she asked, “Tell me about Salt Lake. Is it a dry county?” I replied, “Well, Utah is considered a cold desert, and we really do not get much rain, so yes, it is generally pretty dry around here. But we do get more moisture in the mountains.” She exclaimed, “I’m not talking about rain! I’m talking about booze! Can you get booze here?” We both laughed and I replied, “I guess the nature of my answer probably indicates how ‘dry’ it is around here, doesn’t it?”

hardshoesSaturday was Lizzie’s feis. She looked strong and graceful. She wasn’t happy with her results but I think not getting medals was good for her. I am pretty sure she is getting to the point where natural talent isn’t going to be enough for her to advance into the next level. I have been encouraging her to practice for some time now and I think Saturday’s results (her perceived “failure”) really helped her to see that if she is interested in progressing in Irish Dance, she ought to practice. This was just another confirmation that my nagging will never push these children to excel as much as their own conviction of the importance of hard work.

Fifteen years ago while Grant and I were living in New York we saw “Aida” on Broadway. Aida was performed by Heather Headley, a Trinidadian-American daughter of a pastor. Her voice in that performance utterly blew me away. (Think the vocal equivalent to the richness of quality dark chocolate.) She also played Nala in Lion King, and is one of the few singers in the world able to play Whitney Houston’s role in the musical “The Bodyguard”.  She has toured with Andrea Bocelli, and has released several albums…in other words, she is a VERY accomplished singer. I recently stumbled across a blog post by her that made me laugh:…

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Some Holiday Rememberances

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The holidays have been so wonderful! I have wanted to write for many weeks about some of the extraordinary and memorable experiences we have been having but have been so busy with either holiday preparations or working on the functionality of my new blog. It is amazing how difficult this process has been! Everything I want to do on this blog I have had to look up some tutorial on how to do it! Or watch a YouTube video, or read long, boring articles on my question. It has been very tedious. I really want to just jump into the creative part of this instead of getting mired by the technical part. However, instead of waiting to get everything perfect I need to just record a few things. I will start with Thanksgiving. This year, we decided to have Thanksgiving with just our own little family. AND, we decided to eat out! For any of you out there, and as a reminder to myself, if you want to eat out for Thanksgiving dinner book your reservations early! Most ski resort restaurants provide amazing feasts as well as a few restaurants in Salt Lake (and there is always Chuck a Rama). We chose to go to Little America, downtown SLC. They do not take reservations and when I called they said it would be about an hour wait. We showed up at 11 am which was THE WRONG time to come. We waited for almost three hours! I stood in line, chatting with those around me while Grant took the children to Temple Square and then we swapped and I took the children to the Grand America to see the huge gingerbread house. When it was finally our turn to eat, the wait was certainly worth it! The food was amazing! So fresh, so varied, so delicious! Shortly after we started eating (it was after 2pm by this time) my friend Katie and her husband showed up. She said they come every year and arrive after 2 and only wait about 10 minutes. So now we know the secret! We had a great time, even with the wait.

littleamerica…

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Wants vs. Needs

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We decided to follow some good advice and give our children something they want, need and something to read for Christmas.  Anna was asking for many, many things and so I said, “Wait Anna, you already told me you wanted those Frozen dolls, now you are telling me you want something else.” She replied, “But Mom! Frozen stuff isn’t something I WANT! It’s something I NEED!”
Smart, smart girl.

Avoidance

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I am always amazed at how omnipresent my desire is to avoid things that are hard.  I have needed to do both Anna and Lizzie’s birthday tributes on this blog. I feel so guilty for not already having done it that I keep avoiding my blog all together causing me to miss out on time that I normally enjoy in putting down my thoughts and experiences. So I will now banish guilty feelings and just continue on with my writing. But not right now, I have laundry to do that I have been avoiding for days…

Debates

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“OH MY GOSH! YOU ARE TURNING INTO A WEIRD, WEIRD…WEIRDO!”

This is what Ra told me today when we were debating whether the chicken pox vaccine was beneficial or not. I do not think that it is necessary. She does.

Tending Roses

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I recently read a beautiful book called “Tending Roses” by Lisa Wingate. In it a grandmother is writing to her granddaughter. This is one of her letters:
“An old woman told me she wanted the gardens cleaned around her house, and if I would do the work I might have flower bulbs and starts of roses as my pay. My husband pretended to think the idea rather foolish as I was needed on the farm, but he was patient with me as I worked throught the early spring, cleaning gardens and moving starts to a newly tilled bed by our farmhouse.  He was older than I, and I think he understood that I needed something of my own.
Those roses were the finest things I had been given in my life, and I tended them carefully all spring.  As the days lengthened, the roses grew well and blossomed in the summer heat, as did I.  Coming in and out of the house, I would look at them — something that belonged to me, growing in soil that belonged to him.
Even passing folk admired my roses, for my work made the blooms large and full.  Once, a poor hired lady came with a bouquet of roses and wildflowers clasped in her hands.  She told me that her children had sneaked into my garden and picked them for her, and that they would be punished.  I bade her not to scold the children, for I was proud to give them this gift.  She smiled, and thanked me, and told me that, with so many children, she had no time for tending roses.
I did not understand her words until my own children were born.  When the first was a babe, I took her outside and let her play in an empty wash barrel so I could have time for tending my roses.  I was often cross with her cries while I was at my work.  As she grew, and as my second child was born, I understood what the hired lady had told me — that motherhood leaves no time for selfish pleasures.  Only time for tending others.
My roses grew wild and died as I busied myself with feeding and diapering, nursery rhymes and sickbeds.  I missed those bright blooms that had been mine and felt it unfair that I must leave my hard work there to die.  But I did not think of it overmuch.  My mind and heart were occupied with the sorrows and joys of motherhood. 
The day came, it seemed in no time, when my children were grown and gone, and I again found time to tend the roses.  I could labor over them from dawn until dusk with no children to feed, no husband needing meals, and few passerby on the old road.  My flowers have come thick and full and beautiful again.  From time to time, I see neighbor children come to pick them when I am silent in my house.  I close my eyes and listen to their laughter, and I think that the best times of my life, the times that passed by me the most quickly, were the times when the roses grew wild.”