On your mark, get set ...

Sometimes I think I know my kid so well. Then she goes and does something that shocks the pants off me.

A couple weeks ago when I picked Margaret up from school, she proudly announced, “I’m going to join the track team.” I opened my mouth then closed it again. I was about to say, “’the heck?” But instead I told her it sounded like a great idea.

And I really do think it’s a great idea. I’ve been wanting Mar pick up a sport for years. Anything I suggested was the stupidest sport she had ever heard of … it didn’t matter what it was. She didn’t want to participate in sports no way, no how.

Even as a little kid, we’d sign her up for classes — gymnastics, karate, tennis — she hated them all. Well, she didn’t hate tennis, but after the first session, she’d never agree to sign up again.

So, I gave up making suggestions.

Then out of nowhere, she wants to be a runner. If you’ve seen my kid, you would have to agree that running is probably going to be good sport for her. She’s all legs.

Off to the sporting goods store we went and drained my bank account on shoes and shorts and shirts with wicking fabric because if people could see her sweat then she’d be mortified.

She was excited. I was worried. What if she hated track? What if I spent all that money and she quit after the first week?

I guess there was no way to know for sure until she tried.

Monday was the first day of practice. She goes right after school so I don’t pick her up until 4:30 (which is wonderful because now my work day is longer and I can get more work done before Mar comes home). I waited outside the school and hoped it went good enough to keep her wanting to go back.

And …

It did. Phew! I know we have weeks more of practice and track meets, but we’re off to a good start!

Hovenweep National Park

Last week, we had to go back to my hometown of Cortez, Co. Although I lived there throughout my entire childhood, places change, so between family gatherings we went out exploring some of those new places that have been created in the past decade.

There are ruins of ancient Anasazi and Pueblans everywhere. When I was a kid, it wasn't uncommon to walk through a canyon or a field and stumble upon some type of site. It happened all the time, and it was something that I took for granted.

But, in the early 2000s, it was decided that perhaps some of those ruins should be protected and the Canyon of the Ancients National Monument was born. It's huge and encompasses a large portion of Montezuma County. It's a good thing too because the economy in that area relies heavily on tourism and giving the area park status provides some sort of protection and management for the ruins.

Growing up, all of our class trips were to Mesa Verde National Park. I went there every single year throughout elementary school, except that one time we went to Pizza Hut — which was awesome. Every single home has southwest decor tucked somewhere in it. Navajo blankets, kachinas, faux broken pottery ... My first summer job was at the Anasazi Heritage Center where I gave tours of the ruins in English and German (badly) and help curate the exhibits at the museum.

When I left the area in 1992, I didn't care if I EVER saw another ruin. I longed for modern architecture, non-turqoise jewelry, and any kind of home that wasn't made from stucco. I am not drawn to the Southwest style and to this day, there isn't a single Southwestern item in my house.

But, I took a 20-minute detour on the way home to Lowry Ruins near Pleasant View, Co.  I thought the boys might enjoy checking out a pueblo and maybe learn something.

I was surprised to see how much different the site is now than I remembered it. It now has interpretive signs and a partially covered metal roof. We walked up to the Great Kiva and I immediately launched into tour guide mode. Blah, blah, blah. Marty would read the signs and say something like "Yeah, like mom said."

I didn't realize that I was doing it until Marty mentioned this picture.

I was pleasantly surprised at how the boys actually listened to me. To make it more interesting, I started telling them what their lives as little boys would have been like if they had lived there. The idea of learning to hunt with bows and having the responsibility of providing for the village really intrigued them. They started running around shooting pretend bison with their super-charged bows and arrows.

The visit went so well, we decided to continue another 25 miles across the state border into Utah to visit Hovenweep National Park.

It was different too. There's a Visitor's Center now and a $6 charge to hike the full 2 1/2 mile loop around the ruins. We'd eaten ALOT at all those family gatherings and were more than happy to take a walk.

The boys remained pretty fascinated by the idea that people built, lived and then disappeared from these houses. They found the idea of defending the villiage using the canyon pretty interesting too.

But, mostly, Hovenweep gave us yet another great day to enjoy and explore the world as a family. Maybe I could stomach just one more trip to Mesa Verde just for them sometime in the near future.

Mystery keys on the keyring

First, I must bid you all a Happy Pi Day. In honor of circle circumferences, let’s all eat pie. Go ahead, it’s Pi Day.

Also, Richie’s mystery photo was fun, no? Those Ashcraft boys are creative, to say the least.

OK, onward with my story of keys, keyrings and mystery keys:

Monday night, Bill and I had a great key swap. See, I bought a new car*. Bill is now driving my beloved Trailblazer and we sold our old Explorer to Sean so he can drive around with his adorable puppy-soon to be giant dog without having to squash him in the back of a two-door coupe.

My new car didn’t come with a key, just a fob (it’s so fancy), so that’s one less thing on my bulky keychain. As I was removing the Trailblazer’s keys, I noticed a bunch of keys whose purpose I had no idea.

I tried the keys in our front door. Nope, I have no key for our front door (we have a push button lock — no key needed — unless the batteries go dead). I tried the keys in our back, garage door. Nope, I have no key for the back, garage door. I tried the keys in the garage door into the house. Yes, I have one of those.

I removed all the keys whose purpose was unknown. Now this is how my keychain looks:

I have a fob for my new car, a flaming, garage-door key, a key to my bicycle lock and a key for the CMU Art Department faculty copier room. I also have a Riveter carabineer, a GJEP bottle opener and a camel.

I think I have the saddest collection of keys ever. There’s no front-door key, safe-deposit key or even a new-car key. But I have a camel and a bike-lock key, so …

After going through all of our keys, we have about eight keys that go to something, but that something is a mystery to us. I think I’m going to carry those keys with me and put them on unsuspecting people’s keyrings when they are not looking.

How many mystery keys to you have on your keyring?

* In case you are wondering, I got the ultimate, Grand Valley mom car: the Toyota Prius V. I can shuttle Margaret from friend’s houses, lessons, school and back again getting 44 mpg and it has seat warmers and a fancy navigation system … also, 44 mpg. Plus, new car smell.

Wordless Wednesday: Guess what this is.

The big move

Last week, I had to move my office.

Yes, I finally had to move out of my bed and on to my desk outside my bedroom. I resisted for a long time. But, well … my butt started hurting from the way I was sitting in my bed (I didn’t even know that was possible).

I know I’m not going to get a lot of sympathy, but doing my work in bed was one of my favorite things about working from home. Now I sit at a desk just like everyone else.

And you know what? It’s actually OK. I don’t have to move my work stuff every night so we can go to sleep. I don’t waste a bunch of time trying to find my pen lost in the folds of my bedding every time I turn to look at my books. As I would go through my research, I would have to keep moving my books, notes and computer around again and again.

I have separation between work and non-work. When I was working from bed, I would take a break by looking up weird stuff on the Internet. Now, I get up from my desk and practice yoga or change the laundry or fix myself a snack.

I feel like it’s much healthier and I know I’m more productive. But I’m still a little bitter about giving up the opportunity to stay in bed all day. 

Worded Wednesday

That's Mar and her brother's new puppy, Atlas. He's a 3-month-old white German shepherd and it quite possibly the sweetest puppy ever. He didn't bark or bite. He just looked at us with his sweet, doll face and we melted. He's like a big, plush toy that poops outside!

Thoughts on 12

Most of the time I’m in love with the age 12 — the age my daughter just happens to be. I should probably admit that I’ve been in love with every age she’s been so far. But 12 has special powers.

It’s not perfect, but it’s honest (mostly), funny (a lot), sweet (still), curious (often) and independent.

Independent is one of the things I both love and fear about 12. 12 takes care of its own hygiene, but still lets me curl its hair. 12 spends time by itself and with friends and I don’t have to participate. Instead I just check in and make sure 12 is not up to any funny business. 12 laughs a lot sometimes with me and sometimes at me.

But 12 also doesn’t need me as much. 12 figures out its own entertainment and often I’m just transportation. 12 wants to hang out with its friends and not its parents most of the time.

On the bright side, 12 has no reason to not pick up after itself (even if it doesn’t). 12 can get up in the morning and itself ready for school. 12 does its own homework without any parental supervision. 12 has its own observations on life. 12 has things to each its parents.

I’ve often said that 12 is a person instead of a child that needs constant supervision.

Lucky for me, my 12 is not just a person, but a person that I love to be around even when she doesn’t want me to be. 12 is pretty much my favorite person ever.
 

Hiccups

I have exams to grade from two classes and I’m behind on my lectures for next week. And. I. Can’t. Work. Because. I. Have. The. Hiccups.

Help me …

Hiccup. Pause. Maybe they’re go-Hiccup. Damn. Pause. Maybe. Hiccup.

They are at the it’s-more-than-annoying phase. I can’t concentrate. Typing these words is taking a huge effort and I’m not even saying anything. Sheesh. This is going to be a mess because I can barely read through these hiccups. Hiccup.

I’m hoping if I take my mind off of them, they’ll go away. Hiccup. No such luck.

They came on while I was walking across our cul de sac to get the mail. Then I yawned and hiccupped at the same time. The yawn only served to amplify the hiccup making it echo off the houses. Hello, neighbors. I have the hiccups. Come join me. Hiccup.

Mar laughed when I told her. I sighed and hiccupped. I came upstairs thinking I could get back to work. Hiccup. Wrong.

I can’t think straight. The way they ripple through my body jerking my head. Ick. Hiccup.

Wait! Wait! I just clicked over to read and answer an email and they’re gone. I've never been so happy to get back to work.

35 Minutes

It's amazing how our family dynamics can change in just one year. Really, I'm kind of blown away by it.

Case in point: swim lessons.

After the holidays I enrolled all the boys back into swim lessons. All the boys, even Marek.

Last year, I hated going to swim lessons because Jonas and Marek were on the sidelines, disobeying all the pool rules like running, and screaming, and crawling under the chairs. I spend 7 months using that hushed whisper Mama voice repeating over and over again "If you boys don't straighten up I'll take away every single toy you've ever had or wished you had." It pretty much sucked and I'd leave lessons frazzled two nights a week.

But, this year is so dramatically different.

Jonas' teacher called him a fish. A what? A fish? This from the 4-year-old boy who sat down one night and absolutely refused to swim ever again, and made good on that promise for the entire winter. A fish. Huh.

And Marek just passed his class and Soren has moved on to perfecting all his strokes.

And me. I actually just finished an entire book. I know! It's now 35 minutes of bliss.

What should I read next?

Wordless Wednesday: I’m copying Richie’s blast from the past