Our winter has been just as busy as any other time in our lives. We enjoyed our Christmas visit with Elizabeth, Zak, and baby Lucy, and will miss her dearly in the coming months… but that is the road we have all chosen. Just as they could never leave Kentucky, we could never leave Colorado. Home is home.

The new semester has begun, and we’ve enjoyed some beautiful outings and adventures. Mythili, Isabella, sixteen other Girl Scouts, and seven other parents joined me in mid-January for Girl Scout troop camping just outside of Estes Park. WE watched movies (that MacBook and LCD projector come in handy!), sewed, made crafts, sang songs, snowshoed and sledded, and had an amazing weekend without a tear in sight!

Snow has been lingering in and out since the first of January, somewhat hindering my bicycle commuting. Fortunately, my dad gave me his trainer so I can ride in the family room. I’ve been trying to ride at least fourteen miles a day and take longer rides on the weekends in preparation for the Iron Horse Bicycle Classic that I will participate in on Memorial Day weekend with a co-worker. If you’re too busy to look at the web site, it is a race against the Durango-Silverton train, with an elevation gain of 5600 feet (we’re climbing a mountain!!), that is fifty miles long. Should be a challenge! I’ve been trying to put the trainer on the highest resistance for at least half the time I’m riding. Going from that to the bike is like putting on wings, enabling me to ride the Vittetoe Express all the way to the zoo and back last Saturday with all three girls (thirty miles). More about that here.

Meanwhile, both Isabella and Mythili are taking ballet class after school once a week, and Riona has begun gymnastics (finally). She just learned how to complete a forward roll, and has been endlessly showing us, she is so proud! Now, of course, Isabella and Mythili want to take gymnastics again, so we have reluctantly agreed to sign them up for the spring course.

The last bit of business is selling Girl Scout cookies, which is quite another job within itself. Perhaps I should have been an accountant! Keeping up with all the orders and money is time-consuming, but just thinking about all the fun ways our troop will spend it (we’re already planning a unit camp in July) makes it worthwhile. Both girls sold 75 boxes this year, and they have already written thank-you cards for all their customers. I’m so proud of their commitment to Girl Scouts! It’s such a great organization, and I hope they stick with it all the way through high school.

All the same, we have survived and made it into the fall. Mythili began kindergarten this year, and has adapted well to only listening to Spanish all day long. She is already learning some new phrases and repeating them at home, though she did admit the other day, “My teacher finally understanded me when I told her, ‘I have Girl Scouts.’” (Her teacher doesn’t speak English–ironic, right?). While she is a bit tired at the end of the day, she seems to like school, and has also enjoyed joining our Girl Scout troop.

Meanwhile, Riona began her one and only year of preschool. To say she loves it would be an understatement. She knows details about her teachers’ interests and lives and has made a few friends already, though at first she was a bit shy. Bruce has also been taking her to Prairie Preschool at the Plains Conservation Center, where she gets to ride the wagon, feed the chickens, pick vegetables from the garden, and pet the snakes!

Isabella is a full-fledged school girl, delving into complicated subtraction and word problems, reading short books in Spanish, and longer chapter books in English. She and Mythili both participate in a once-weekly after school activity: for Isabella, dance class, and Mythili, art. Both girls are enjoying their school year.

In addition to the usual day-to-day activities, we went troop camping this year at Twisted Pine Girl Scout Camp just outside of Genessee. The girls had a blast creating survival bags, hiking and observing nature, learning about and searching for constellations, singing songs and telling stories around the campfire, and playing outside in the homemade tee-pee. The lodge was amazing, with three large bedrooms, a decent sized bathroom, and a huge, fully stocked kitchen! We can’t wait to try out all the Girl Scout properties and have already booked a different camp, Meadow Mountain Ranch near Estes Park, for some winter fun in January.

In addition to working with new teams this year and teaching a computer class (ACK!), I am also very busy teaching three University of Phoenix online classes back to back until December 20th! In addition to cramming in bike rides to school and walking thousands of steps for our district’s pedometer competitions, busy is the only way to describe my life right now. Fortunately, Bruce has been amazing, taking the kids to and from school, doing all the shopping and errands, cooking delicious meals every night, and dealing with our breakdown-central van. Thank goodness for some stress relief!

On the weekends, we’ve been enjoying the glorious Indian Summer weather in Colorado with long bike rides, hikes, and trips to various farmers’ markets to pick up fresh eggs, vegetables, and Colorado peaches and apples. And of course we made our annual visit to the Aurora Jack-o-Launch, watching the pumpkins fly through the air from their catapult and rifle-like contraptions, enjoying some Dry Dock beer, and watching the kids create crafts and play in the corn box (rather than sand box). Now that autumn is upon us, we’re hoping things will settle down a bit and we can r-e-l-a-x!

But, alas, the end is near. We will spend the first half of the week indulging in a few more bike rides, one more beach day, and then begin packing our million point five items (we thought we would have so much space going home, as we brought so many items to give to Lucy, but it appears we might be heading back with MORE) into, on top of, and behind the van. We’ll head out on Friday night, make a stop in St. Louis so the girls can go in the Arch for the first time (we didn’t have time over the past weekend), and drive all night while they sleep. Then we will have just ten days to rest and recover, to rediscover our friends and our home, before reality hits. Reality being, school starts! This may seem overwhelming for most families, but for a teacher it’s double duty. Every year I feel like I’m beginning a new job all over again, and this year I kind of am. I am working with different teams and doubling up on my ESL class and teaching a computer class for the first time! It’s going to be a stressful but exciting new school year, especially since it is Riona’s first (and only) year of preschool and Mythili is entering kindergarten! Oh how the time flies… Seems like we were just pulling up, and now we will be heading out… but life is cyclical, so I’m sure we’ll be back before we know it, on two wheels or four. For now, here are my poems for the girls this July.

In addition to hiking, Isabella and I have been super busy with various Girl Scout activities. In addition to our usual biweekly meetings, we hosted our first bridging ceremony at Isabella’s school. This ceremony celebrates the girls moving from one level of Girl Scouts (Daisies) to the next (Brownies). Our troop learned a bridging song sung to the tune of “Frere Jacque” and they each received a certificate, a patch, and got to put on their new Brownie vests after they crossed our homemade bridge. It was a great ceremony, and we celebrated with homemade brownies, of course! We also went to a recruitment celebration where Isabella learned all about different types of animals such as service dogs, Great Danes, and even a horse. Last week, I took all three girls to another GS event–a mother/daughter event. They had different tables set up where the girls could make a potpourri gift for their moms while we made bracelets for them, they got to wear high heels, and then we took quizzes about each other. Now, we are in the midst of planning for our troop camp at the end of August, which, as with everything else with GS, requires a lot of paperwork and training. We’re also going to be doing early bird registration for our troop (another pile of paperwork), so needless to say, I have been very busy!

Besides the Girl Scout activities, Isabella has attended a couple of birthday parties, participated in a dance night at her school, and is getting ready for an end-of-the-year field trip to the zoo. Mythili has been busy practicing her songs and dances for her preschool graduation, took a field trip herself to the Plains Conservation Center, and just got picked by her teachers as Best Kinder Kid!

We celebrated my 32nd birthday with a prime rib dinner at my parents’ house followed by a hike. Bruce got me one of the best gifts ever–a homemade quilt, made by our good friend Heather. It’s a “sister’s choice” pattern in various shades of green to match our bedroom. The work that went into it is incredible, and I will always remember this as one of my most cherished gifts.

Meanwhile, I have been “training” for my half marathon, coming up this Sunday, via the bike. I’ve had a problem with tendonitis and have been unable to run, so I’ve been riding the bike like mad to keep up some form of cardio regime. I know it’s not the same, but at least I will be able to walk/jog the marathon on Sunday morning.

I have also started “teaching” another University of Phoenix course which will carry over into the summer a bit. And we’ve been super busy getting our house all prepped because we found renters–two doctors and their three-year-old-twins–to rent it for the summer while we’re in KY! Just goes to show–if you do good deeds, good things happen. Seems like that’s been happening a lot lately. I mean, I still have a job next year at my school despite the horrid economy, the massive budget cuts in our school district, and having so few students. Hmmm… it must be the weekly brownies and cakes I bake for everyone! (I know it’s not a direct correlation, but those good deeds bounce back, I swear!)

And yes, we are still spending the summer in KY. Baby Lucy is awaiting our arrival, and we’re almost all set to go. We leave the night of May 28, returning July 31. Exciting! If I don’t keep up with this blog, you can check out my other blog–my resolution for 2010 is to write every day: Step Write Up.

As parents, our March Madness looks a little differently. First of all, our girls don’t seem to show any interest in sports, which is fine with me. I even took them to a Hoops for Heart basketball tournament at my school a few weeks ago, thinking it would be a relatively easy way to pass the afternoon. Not five minutes after we arrived, all three were whining, “When is this thing going to be over?” I can’t say I was disappointed.

On the other hand, when we went to see the musical Mary Poppins last week at the Buell, the girls were thrilled. As usual, Isabella couldn’t wait to get all dressed up, and had a minor tantrum about her lack of fancy shoes. They loved watching Mary Poppins fly across the stage, and even up into the audience at the end, and were singing the songs and practicing their tap dancing moves for days afterward. I think we might just have ourselves a house full of artists!

This March is especially crazy because I am training for a half marathon, so running like crazy four days a week, still keeping up with all the Girl Scout work, and the girls have just finished their skate lessons in time for all three to begin swim lessons again. Since we’ll be gone all summer in Kentucky, we had to slip the lessons in at an indoor pool starting at the end of March. Meanwhile, we have been filling our days with bike riding, visiting the park down the road that has a new “train” playground, and trying to keep the antsy-sick-of-winter girls busy and happy on cold, snowy days that always plague us at this time of year, just when we think spring has sprung!

And now that all three girls are mobile (truly mobile–able to walk long distances without dragging their feet or complaining too much) and potty trained, I must admit that trips to places like the zoo, museum, or mall are actually more pleasurable. No longer do we have to lug a stroller or a diaper bag every time we go out. I thought for sure I would miss the baby years, and in many ways I do, but I must say, I am enjoying being able to take my girls to places and not having to worry about all the things we must carry. That right there is the best way to handle March Madness: ignore the basketball scores and be thankful for what really matters. And we all know what really matters: kids who can wipe their own butts and walk up four flights of stairs to your balcony seats.

It’s so peaceful to watch, to see the frosting on the grass, the branches of trees glistening under the clouds that tickle them with winter’s early gift. It’s wonderful to take a moment between pouring batter for homemade chocolate pancakes, changing Riona’s diaper, and running off to visit the grandparents, just to watch the giant flakes float languidly down from the sky. It’s exciting for all three girls to try on their “new” boots–Isabella’s from the used clothing store, Mythili’s and Riona’s from their hand-me-down boxes of shoes–and to watch them as they rush outside, gather up every flake they can on their tongues, and pound miniature snowballs into their hands, relishing in the very idea of winter.

But we must remind ourselves that it is only October, that winter is just visiting us for a day, that we still have pumpkins to pick, Halloween decorations to put up, fall break to enjoy, and Thanksgiving to celebrate, before winter rears its blindingly cold El Nino head and pounds us with what I hope will be inch after inch, foot after foot, of beautiful white powder.

Victory

I have made it to the top
I know you didn’t think I could
but I always knew
with open arms I waited for this moment
and now with a tickle
of cloud-licked wind
I have arrived

to put it all behind me would
be to forget why I came
to abandon the snow that
stung my toes as I kicked in steps
to let loose the hazardous
boulders that I had to scramble over

no, that would be betrayal
to my soul
who has waited for this moment
longer than the rest of me

so I will remember the cramped stomach,
the aching calves,
the harsh, alpine wind
that not for one moment would allow me sleep
and the longing that
carried my heels up this mountain
because without the pain

of memory,
I would never truly be able to live,
to breathe,
and from within to thrive
in this glorious moment of victory.

Bikes and Apples
or, First Loves

It is a cold ride
but an exhilarating one
while the book plays in my ear
I stop momentarily
to listen to my three-year-old
who calls to me from
the trailer
where she is tightly wrapped,
double-hooded,
and playing with her new Barbie

She never complains
and is the only one who still
basks in the glory of the ride

We pedal across town
over wooden bridges
down curvy hills
splashing in puddles
and zipping past the slow pokes

because, as Bruce says,
I ride my bike just like I drive

I try to argue that
it’s the only way to burn enough calories
that I have to beat my last time
but really, it’s the thrill
of speeding past Mr. Spandex
and hearing Riona
squeal, “Wheeeee”
all the way down the hill

And then we are surrounded by
my old neighborhood
filled with brick ranches
and tiny yards
and trees as gigantic as back east

I stop the bike and
the others meet us there
carrying fresh-baked scones
that the girls crumble and munch
as we meander amongst the white-tented stalls

and even though I am still shivering,
the sun is coming out,
I can no longer feel the wind,
and they have the
pungently sweet Swiss gourmet apples
that traveled from the western slope
and whose crisp taste
has lingered in my mouth all morning.

I buy a bag from the vender
who tells me she rode her bike here too,
knowing that soon
there will be warm pie in my oven
and three girls fighting
over who gets the last piece,
and I think, my legs
aching and hot now,
it doesn’t get any better than this.

It started with Riona getting bit by Elizabeth’s dog and having to rush her to the emergency room in Aspen while we were visiting Glenwood Springs for the weekend with my family. It’s amazing how quickly a happy, relaxed weekend, filled with bike rides along the Colorado River and Glenwood Canyon, dips in the one-of-a-kind hot springs pool that is a block long, and hikes where the girls never complained and climbed rocks to their hearts’ delight, can turn sour and stressful. A shadow will always hang over that trip in my mind, darkening the happy memories, as Riona and I both couldn’t stop our sobbing when we wrapped her up in the blanket, held her down, and had four stitches tied into her lip. It’s not just the pain that she felt that hurt me so much, but the awkwardness of knowing my sister’s dog had done this to her, the worry that Riona would forever be afraid of dogs, and the nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach that somehow I had brought this on. And as if all of that mess wasn’t painful enough, as I was standing there with tears pouring out of my eyes and snot running out of my nose, the nurse practitioner turned to me and said, “When is your baby due?” Ouch. Times ten.

When it rains, it pours. For more than three years now, we have been receiving strange bills from the hospital where Riona was born, and have been calling the hospital and the insurance companies to try to figure out what went askew. It began with incorrectly billing us, then led to them sending the claim to two incorrect insurance companies, to the latest event of, despite the multiple calls I’ve made and the many attempts to resolve the issue, the hospital sending the bill to a collection agency. Now, some people might not think it’s a big deal and just move on with their lives. But to people like Bruce and I, who are so careful with our credit that we rarely have any debt, always pay every bill on time, and are 45 points below having a perfect credit score, this is a real blow. Especially when, apparently, Riona was supposed to be covered by an insurance company that we didn’t even know about, and the last hospital billing specialist who I spoke to had to make rude remarks to me like, “Well I just had a baby, don’t you know how it works? You have to call your insurance company to let them know you’re having a baby.” Could she add more insult to my injury?

In the midst of this, my car broke down. I should have started this paragraph with, I love my car. I’ve had it for nine years, it’s twelve years old, and other than regular maintenance and gas, I have spent exactly $350 fixing it. It’s one of the cheapest cars money can by, it has a million dents, the bumper is held on by zip ties, the front headlight is  attached with packaging tape, and the internal lights don’t work, but damnit, that car gets me where I need to go. So when it first began having issues starting up, and then just died on the road one day, I was only a little miffed at it. And since I’m already trying to ride 400 miles on my bike this month anyway, I just rode to work every day instead of four days a week. But inevitably we had to take it to the shop, where it sat for two days mystifying the mechanics who could find nothing wrong with it. After a week of wind and constant rain, and one 12-hour day of sitting through school, then parent-teacher conferences, then riding home in the dark and rain, I decided to try driving it again. It promptly died on the street right in front of my school. Needless to say, after a stunted attempt that evening, we eventually made it to the shop, and they were able to figure it out this time.

But three things just aren’t enough. Now my poor bike needs a tune-up. Will probably cost more than $100. But I can’t just garage it for the winter, it’s not even October yet! So I have to suck it up.

It’s not the money that stresses me out. It’s what I wanted to use the money for. I taught a University of Phoenix class over the summer–my first–and am in the midst of teaching two more right in a row. I already ordered about twenty books from the library to plan what I hoped would be a Disney vacation for spring break… and, stupidly, already told the girls about it. And when everything happens in a row like this, I think about those scenes from that movie Up, where they have a giant jar of money saved up for their dream trip to South America, and then the tire goes flat, a tree crashes down… one thing after another. I know it’s not the end of the world, that things could be a million times worse… but it still hurts. It’s still a reminder of how hard it is to get ahead, no matter how careful we are.

So even though this blog is a celebration of our family life, I think challenges still fit in. What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger, right? And we will get through this, we will still have beautiful pictures to post, beautiful stories to tell, and in so, so many ways, we still have the perfect family.

Wrapping

In the cold I wait for the light.

I see the clouds galloping across the sky—

yes, galloping, grayish white against a tint of blue—

and that same gale that hurries them

stings me to my bones

numbing me through to my toes.

I return my borrowed

fleecy black gloves and rush

across the field thinking

hey, at least I ran a quarter mile today.

He waits at the van,

takes me home in the heavenly heat,

but I am still shivering under my

newly borrowed double layer jacket

and supposedly warm wool socks

and two rounds of dipping Polly Pockets

into the “hot springs” pool.

When he calls for dinner,

my shrieking hazel-eyed girls

lead the way upstairs

and before I can even take my seat

he wraps his warmth around me

with a steaming cup of Earl Grey,

not for one second forgetting

the two sugars, the spoonful of half and half

and I smile enough to light two rooms

and melt the darkness away from

the weak place inside of me

that he has just given strength to.

Giver of Words

Mythili, you always know just what to say.

When Isabella has forgotten her water bottle

it’s, “You know she better check the lost and found

tomorrow or else she wouldn’t have it anymore.”

or when Riona asks for a taste of my tea, you reply,

“We only can have smells, unless we’re sick,

then we can have tea or even ginger ale,”

nodding and sticking your finger back in your mouth,

pushing blankey against your cheek.

or when we take a walk and you ask,

“What is that extra space for

next to the sidewalk where no cars go?”

and when I explain the parking lane,

your answer is complete: “When people have

birthday parties on Saturdays that’s where

the guests park their cars.”

and sometimes I can hardly believe

that you are only four when you

look up at me through your thick eyelashes,

your nothing but golden eyes,

and tell me that you have now decided

you will be both an astronaut and

an artist, no longer the butterfly

of your three-year-old dreams,

“Because, Mama, it is time that

someone really could paint the stars.”

My Oldest Getting Too Old

I keep wanting to say that you are seven

because even though I cringe at the thought

of you not being a baby, a toddler, a preschooler,

you seem seven to me now

with your lanky arms,

your longing eyes,

your pride in your Daisy Girl Scout patches and vest,

the giant words that come out of your mouth,

the flippant attitude you have mastered,

the three boyfriends that you just proudly announced

(I thought Reuben was the one),

and the way you live for your friendships.

Your hair is even longer than I imagined

from my mostly-bald baby,

you can count to a hundred in English and Spanish

and insist on shouting out every letter

of your baby sister’s alphabet placemat

before she has a chance.

When the six kids are together,

you are the alpha female in your game of hunting cats,

telling the boys and your sisters where to go,

which way to pounce,

and where the best hiding spots are.

You climb trees like there’s no tomorrow

and would ride your bike around the block

every day if I let you,

and have let loose your fear of ringing

Kiara’s doorbell for a requested playdate.

But are you six in those pants that come

up to your ankles,

in the art that you create with three-dimensional

expertise, your grandmother’s gift

skipping a generation?

I suppose I have to accept it,

accept that you now attend school all day,

that you know how to use a computer,

type your name on Daddy’s iPod,

and know all the words to Mama’s favorite songs,

and that, before I even blink,

you really will be seven.

Riona, My Angelic Baby

Your eyes are darker than your sisters’

though still hazel

you peek them out of your

falling-in-your-face golden strands of hair

and tap my knee relentlessly,

“Mama, Mama, Mama,” until

I can’t help but look, smile at

your imploring expression,

and agree with your request

to play Polly Pockets with you in the green room.

You stop midway—

it’s time to cuddle in my lap,

thumb in mouth,

on the pillows that you have already

set up for us.

I love you to pieces

even when you adamantly refuse

to even taste the broccoli on your plate,

waiting… waiting… waiting

to stick out year lip

and let out your cries

when I won’t dismiss you

I love you to pieces

because you are my last,

my baby,

my youngest daughter,

and everything that you do,

from diligently stacking blocks

to asking me for a nose kiss

to insisting that you sleep blanketless

is pure beauty in my eyes.

You are three now,

and as we cuddle,

I wonder how long this will last,

knowing that it will never be long enough,

that you will grow and take

those mercurial eyes

to school,

to work,

to the altar…

but for now, I still

have you tapping my knee,

begging me for attention,

and I know that I must do

whatever is in my power

to give you my all.