Sandbox List Adventure 11: One Small Step For Man, One Giant Step For The Guatkind

He’s a firefighter. A secret agent. A doctor. A baseball player. A superhero. An astronaut … and sometimes he’s my Lego-building partner.

Most of these identities are imaginary and we do our best with our makeshift costumes and equipment made out of recyclable materials. However today I thought I would step it up a notch and provide an experience where I didn’t have to use an old Gatorade bottle or paper towel roll. Today we finally made our way to see the Space Shuttle Endeavour, something he’s been wanting to do ever since it made the long trek through the streets of our city and found its home at the California Science Center.

It was something we were so jazzed up about that I got advanced tickets so that we wouldn’t have to wait in the crowded line. I never get advanced anything but when it comes to kids’ activities I totally learn. I don’t want to get caught by every parents’ worst nightmare … The Public Meltdown. So you do whatever it takes, which includes the strategic planning of a genius … of a Mission Impossible agent … of a mother of two.

You get advanced tickets that give you an entrance time well after morning traffic, but before nap time. You plan it to get an awesome three or four-hour block of engaging entertainment. You check for the closest parking lots and always bring cash because you never know when the machines could be down. In addition you pack whatever it takes … granola bars, Goldfish Crackers, grapes, cheese sticks, fruit wraps, pita chips, an arsenal of juice boxes, books, learning toys with all the Disney, PBS, Sprout Channel, and Nickelodeon characters, and the master savior … The Ritz Cracker.

You walk out the door with your two kids and five bags and you think … I got this. I got this!  You slip in the Jack Johnson CD and know you’ll be there by track five or six. The morning rush hour should no longer exist.

And then you’re zooming passed the cars until disaster hits. Traffic. You don’t understand it. There shouldn’t be any. Did you expect big rig trailers and trucks … yes a few, but not a massive traffic jam filled with SUVs and sedans. You don’t understand it. And then after an hour-long trek, which really should have lasted twenty minutes, it hits you. Caps, gowns and Hawaiian leis. Graduation. College graduation.

By the time I finally parked, I was down to my last Ritz cracker. But once we got inside, I didn’t need the emergency reserve.

It was one small step for man, one giant step for Guatkind.

 

Our astronaut experience awaits.

 

The cool art/display that caught our  eye at the entrance.

 

My son intrigued by the mysterious white smoke coming up from the display. He’s discovering the power of science.

 

The journey begins, everyone was so excited that the juice boxes were not completely finished.

 

Checking out the amazing space stuff and educating ourselves before heading over to the exhibit.

 

This is where we pretended to be Mission Control engineers. My son did a great job with his countdown.

 

One of the best parts of the day was the simulator. Where he got a chance to blast off into space, fix a satellite in outer space, hang out on the moon, and then land the shuttle. He was a good astronaut and so was my daughter, very brave during the take off and landing.

 

After our awesome astronaut experience we headed over for the main attraction.

 

Definitely worth the hour-long traffic. Definitely. The Holy-Crap Moment of the day happened right here.

 

The experience had such a “wow” factor that we had to take home a souvenir. And this one entertained them all the way home. No need for Jack Johnson or emergency reserves.  Outer space rocks.

 

The Rematch … It’s On Devil’s Canyon … It’s So On. I’ve Got Backup This Time

It’s that time of year again … the time when I challenge my weary bones and muscles … the time of year when I pretend I can swim freestyle knowing full well that it never works and I just end up swimming the backstroke and floating my way to the finish line. It’s that time of year where I step out of the “mom” box and step into the badass frame of mind which lasts up to 24 hours, then I go back to being defeated. It’s … Tinman Triathlon time and Devil’s Canyon awaits.

Pinche Devil’s Canyon. It’s on … It is so on.

Image via Durtbagz.com

 

I’m counting down. I’ve got about two months to whip this Guat body into Tinman shape. Don’t get me wrong the Fight For Air Climb certainly put my quads where they belong, it’s just the rest of my body that needs to cooperate. Specifically, the old parts. The parts that take Glucosamine and something called CoQ10. But I’ve decided to add some yoga and stretching to the mix, because my lower back seems to be aging faster than any other part of my body. Although my knees are a close second, and I’m afraid I’m going to need both to conquer Devil’s Canyon. So if you have any pointers feel free to share them.

However this time, the Tinman experience will be different. The training will be different. I’ll have someone there. My son. My four-year old son has agreed to enter the Tiny Tots Tricycle Triathlon. A super miniature version of the race and I’m excited to see him cross the finish line.

This of course means that I’ll be doing double duty when training. I can’t really go at full speed when training with him, so I’ll have to do my training whenever I can get it. This usually means at the break of dawn, which sucks for a night person like myself, or it can happen in the dark of night where suspect people usually walk the streets and I have to keep my Hapkido skills on high alert. Win-win I guess, but at least I have one day during the weekends where I can get my muscles up to Tinman status.

My son is pretty much at Mini-Tinman status when it comes to biking and running. He’s pretty high energy all we have to do is extend the road he covers. However we do have to practice our swimming a bit more, so the Lightening McQueen floaties and goggles will be making an appearance.

We’re both excited about the event and all I’m hoping for is that he finishes the race. He doesn’t need to be first. He just needs to finish. As for me? I don’t need to be first either. I just need to conquer Devil’s Canyon. It kicked my ass last year and I’m hoping the incident doesn’t repeat itself. In truth all I want to do is finish my race before the Tiny Tinman race starts. I want to be at the starting line cheering him on and be part of his pit crew when he gets on his bike. So I definitely need to get into kick-Devil’s -Canyon’s-Ass Shape.  It’s a rematch. Definitely a “Thrilla in Manila” type of event.

Stay tuned.

 

Related Articles

• Despite Devil’s Canyon, It Was The Best Hour and a Half I’ve Had This Year. I Am A TinMan

 

Sandbox List Adventure 10: The Tastiest Ten Minutes of the Day

I don’t know if every kid dreams about it, but I know they think about it. I used to think about it a lot, when I was five, six, seven … all the way to 37. Yup. To this day I think about it, and it makes me smile. However my dentist says it’s my weakness and charges me an obscene amount of money to fix my cavities. He says I may have to give it up. I say they need to work harder on inventing better toothpaste because there’s no way I’m giving it up. It’s like air. A necessity.

Milk. Cream. Sugar. Those are the basic ingredients.  I’ve had them on their own multiple times, but they are definitely best when they are churned together and frozen, sealed tight in a container … just waiting for me on aisle 7 of the supermarket. Dude. That’s the best. Ben & Jerry’s. They are geniuses … geniuses I tell you! My kids are aware of this phenomenon and always look forward to birthday parties because ice cream is usually one of the side dishes. And even though I get to have some secretly once or twice a week, it’s something that my kids may get once a month. You know, I’m trying to develop healthy eaters.

So when we were driving home from the book festival this weekend and I asked my son what he wanted for dinner I was surprised by his answer, but even more surprised by my own.

“What do you want for dinner?” I asked as a red light stopped us in front of a 31 Flavors.

“Ice cream.”

“Ice cream? You can’t have ice cream for dinner.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not good for you. It’s only supposed to be a treat once in a while, and usually after your meal.”

“I have not had ice cream in a long, long, long while and I already had my snack.”

“You haven’t had dinner.”

“Ice cream can be dinner.”

I paused, thinking about my college days.

“So can we have ice cream for dinner?”

I thought about his Sandbox List Adventures and nodded.

“Yeah, I guess you can. Just for today.”

Dude. The woo-hoo was like a SuperBowl touchdown with two seconds to go in overtime kind of woo-hoo. It was a pretty big one. So I turned the corner and drove the car into the 31 Flavors parking lot to begin our Sandbox List Adventure.

 

We arrived and the seatbelts couldn’t be taken off fast enough.

 

There were many options to choose from and I was sure he was going to fancy it up. I know I was thinking about it.

 

When he saw these I thought … dude it’s on. He’s most definitely going to ask for one of these.

 

And while he was contemplating his cone purchase I was contemplating a cake purchase. Oreo cookies make for a great cake accessory.

 

But before he decided, we did a little taste testing.

 

And it was funny, with all the available choices, he decided on a cup. Chocolate chip with chocolate sprinkles. Dude. He definitely takes after me.

 

His sister didn’t really have a choice, but was definitely enjoying the Cookies N’ Cream.

 

It was the fastest dinner they have ever eaten. There was no fighting. No spoon dropping. No reminders to finish eating. Just concentration and focus, in addition to a lot of smiles and spoons dancing around in creamy cool deliciousness. In fact I had to tell them to slow down. I didn’t want to deal with their first brain freeze. I told them they had to eat slowly and enjoy it. The adventure lasted about ten minutes, but it was the tastiest ten minutes they had all day.

 

 

I Better Get On It Then … Well Maybe

Image via despair.com

Just when I thought I was doing a good job of checking off items from our Sandbox Adventure List, Happiness Project, and Bucket List …

Just when I thought my latest adventure at the Fight For Air Climb was great …

Just when I thought I was getting closer to teaching my kids life lessons worth remembering …

Just when I thought I could relax a little bit because I was getting my life groove back …

Just when I thought I was building …

Someone sends me something like this.

Dude.

I can’t afford to have pauses like this, especially when I think I’m on a roll. I don’t have anything this spectacular built. I don’t even have blueprints for something like this. I mean hey if you’ve got them, good for you. Me? I’m still trying to make lemonade here and sometimes it’s pretty tasty. Other times not so much.

Legacy, huh? I haven’t really thought about that.  Don’t know when I’m supposed to be thinking about it, or how often. I’m in my late thirties … I guess I better get on it then because apparently the years are short. But sometimes during these short years I wish people would remember to just relax and stop sending me reminders to carpe diem. I do a lot of carpe, but sometimes you just don’t want to carpe every second, of every minute, of every day. You need a break to relax, to reflect. You need a break to ice your knees from all the carpe you were doing the day before.

Carpe diem? Yes.

Better get on it? Yes.

Build Grand Canyons in your life? Yes.

But not today. Sometimes you just need to relax, decompress, and watch AMC.

Keeping A Badass Frame of Mind

Just when I thought I was badass, The Fight For Air Climb made me think again.

I knew it was going to be tough, but I didn’t think it would be so challenging. I thought I had trained for this. I was Rocky Balboa for about two months and I thought I was ready. I stormed bleachers and stairs and thought my Hulk Hogan-like quads were sculpted enough and ready to take on the 1,400 steps waiting for me.

Yeah … I thought. That was the problem right there …

I mean the morning started off all right, just a few jitters at the registration table.

 

My gear from the registration table.

 

But when I saw my t-shirt I laughed. I knew I was in the right place. I was still in my badass frame of mind. I mean you’d have to think you were a badass to climb this monster.

 

The Challenge. The AON Center. 63 stories and about 1,400 steps.

 

And so I remained in this state for most of the morning. However, I did have some help. The DJ pumped up the crowd with a few tunes and everyone was excited for the climb to start. Then I noticed the memory wall — names of people being honored during the climb — and I saw my dad’s name and it gave me an extra boost. It reminded me that this was more than just another BenGay moment.

 

The memory markers hanging near the starting line.

 

As I passed the memory wall I noticed a group of firefighters approaching.

 

Heading towards the front of the building.

 

I was like dude … did someone pass out already? But they seemed to be walking pretty slowly to be rapidly responding to a crisis.

 

The rest of the crew, getting geared up for the race.

 

No. No crisis. They happen to be walking to the starting line to join the multitude of elite climbers designated to go first. Apparently these firefighters were also participating in the race, however they were not wearing t-shirt, and shorts attire. They were in full-on firefighter gear. I really thought I was badass, but this … this seem to put me in the minor leagues. I couldn’t imagine climbing with all that extra weight. I could barely climb with an iPod. But I was here, and I was going to finish no matter what league I was in.

In truth, I thought I was going to do well. As always I watched clips from Miracle, Rudy, Remember the Titans, Hoosiers, Rocky, Glory Road, The Natural, Invincible, and Breaking Away. I listened to inspirational coach speeches. I thought I had prepared, both physically and mentally. I’m a nerd I always prepare. I reached the starting line, got the countdown, and took off.  I thought … I got this.

 

Standing at the starting line.

 

Uh … think again. When I reached the eighth floor. Something happened, and I had to think back to my training.

There I was in the outdoors storming the bleachers of the local high school and community college stadium, working up a sweat after about forty minutes and thinking … I can do this. But there was only one problem … I was outdoors, breathing fresh air.  Fresh being the key word here. So I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me earlier. I guess I should have known that fresh air, or fake air for that matter, does not circulate in skyscraper stairwells. It does not.

You know what does circulate?

Sweat, smell, and claustrophobia. Yeah … it spreads itself up and down those 63 stories, crop-dusting itself all over, in every nook and cranny. I couldn’t understand why my legs felt heavy after only twelve stories. I couldn’t understand why I couldn’t storm these steps two at a time, like a real athlete, like I had during my training. I couldn’t understand why I got so tired so early and why my heart was beating so quickly.

And then it hit me. I was learning this lesson the hard way.

Oxygen. Pinche lack oxygen.

I was in the American Lung Association‘s Fight For Air Climb and I was literally fighting for air. This is when my fake running began. You know when you’re running at the park or track and you see some chick or dude half-assing it. They’re running in slow motion, it’s not even jogging. It’s slower than jogging, but they think they are actually sprinting because they’re pumping their arms and bobbing their head up and down. They’re going at the speed of walk. Yeah … that was me. I had become the half-ass chick because there was not enough oxygen and everyone around me was feeling it. We were in full-blown hypoxia mode.

Thank God they opened a few doors on various levels, and thank God for the high school volunteers trying to fan me with signs. That definitely helped boost my energy level a bit. And then just when I thought I was getting closer I looked up and saw the sign. I had barely cleared the 24th floor.

Holy crap. This climb was definitely going to kick my ass.

 

Most definitely.

 

But I didn’t want to stop, so I grabbed hold of the handrail and kept climbing. Once I hit the halfway mark I just stopped looking at the signs. I hated the fact that I was climbing so many steps only to realize that I had gone up a few flights. All I wanted to see was the 60th floor approaching, but I was so far off. This floor countdown was not cool,  so I just tried to avoid the signs.

But, did I make it to the top without crawling, without hanging on the stairs for dear life, or without throwing up like many of my fellow climbers?

Hell yes!

I rose to the top. I did it by any means necessary. Mostly jogging, the running had stopped at the eighth floor. But there was some dancing as I passed by my fellow climbers. I fought through the lack of oxygen and smelly hallways to finish in 87th place out of 350 chicks. It may not seem fantastic, but it was good for me.

So thank you Double Dutch Bus, thank you Mr. World Wide Pitbull Don’t Stop The Party, thank you Devil Went Down to Georgia, thank you Eye of The Tiger, thank you Michael Jackson’s Mama-Say-Mama-Sah Ma-Ma-Coo-Sah. You came through for me once I reached the 40th floor. But most of all thank you Tucanes de Tijiuana because La Chona helped me run my way to the top.

 

One of the views from the top.

63 Stories. 1,400 stairs. I clocked in at 18.41.

Surprisingly there was no BenGay this time, maybe it was because of the VIP sports massage I got after I finished the climb. However, there was plenty of ice for my weary 37-year old knees.

But the question remains … Still, badass?

Yes. Hell yes! Most definitely.

Sandbox List Adventure VIII: Bubble Wrap Makes Me Cool

For me, it releases tension and stress. I guess it’s the smashing part.

My kids were probably attracted to the pop-pop popping of it all. It’s something you see and have to do. You can’t just throw it in the trash, you have to pulverize it first and then throw it in the trash … well the recycling bin.

I know they had seen it before, but it was the small 5×7 sheet that came with a box of chocolate, at which point they cared more about the chocolate and less about the packaging.

But when I changed the dimensions and provided a full floor-length sheet, you know that the smiles and laughter came out, even without the chocolate.

Bubble wrap … it’s the mom’s miracle worker on a rainy day. Usually I pack the rainy day with plenty of activities, but for some reason our agenda was not welcomed by enthusiasm. They were done with Legos, trains, balloon volleyball, hockey, Connect 4, Play-doh , Transformers, coloring, cars, books, and pretend play. They were done with it and seeing how my little one had a serious runny nose I wasn’t in the mood to escalate it into a full on cold or flu by letting them splash in puddles and be hit by hail. Yes. Today sunny Southern California was at 50 degrees with hail attacking our palm trees.

So I needed something else, because you know kids … they don’t stop for hail. They’re just like the Energizer Bunny, they just keep going all day. So I tried to step up the level of fun and found success with bubble wrap and some awesome 80s tunes. We started off dancing and then just ended up racing up and down the bubble wrap strip. I figured when my Uncle Erick introduced me to bubble wrap back in the 80s it was an awesome way to pass the time. We had no Nintendo, no Atari. We had Lite Bright, Monopoly, Sorry, Battleship and bubble wrap.

And it rocked.

I figured,  since I had such a good time, maybe my preschooler and toddler would get a kick out of it. I was worried because sometimes as parents we think we have the best plan for fun and then realize that it wasn’t as cool as we thought. Thankfully I was as cool as I thought … well at least for today.

 

First we began the setup and it took a little longer than it should have…you know with all the help I was getting.

 

Then in no time at all my son was racing up and down the bubble wrap strip, feeling ecstatic as the pop-pop-popping happened with every step.

 

My daughter tried the running, dancing and stomping but when she realized that she wasn’t getting the same sound effect or smashing as many bubbles as her brother, she took a new approach.

 

She found that squeezing with her hands and tiny fingers was a lot more productive. So then the smiles began.

 

Seeing how he was getting tired of all the running and hopping, my son decided to join his sister and use his hands to attack the bubble wrap. He had some assistance from a rolling pin.

 

In the end the bubble wrap was everywhere, but it was all good. Everyone had fun in the process, including mom.

 

Happiness Project Update 23: Extending Deadlines and Plan B

During my whole Happiness Project quest there were a lot of truths I had to come clean about in order to make this project work. One of the things I had to let go of was My List. At one point or another, everyone has a list. You know, the By-The-Time-I’m-at-a-Certain-Age List I should be at Point X in my life.

Image via happiness-project.com

Yeah that’s the one.

I made the list as a way of giving myself a deadline. You’re supposed to be filled with certain milestones every decade, right? 20, 30, 40? It gave me something to strive for, to work for, to reach for, but when I didn’t get where I was supposed to be, well what was I supposed to do?  Stuff my face with chocolate? Yes. Definitely yes. But why the disappointment? I should have accounted for some setbacks, right?

Here’s the thing. I didn’t think I was going to fail, so when I did I thought holy crap, what should I do now? Couldn’t do anything but let go. And dude that was hard. I turned 30 and that was that. There were a few items left on the list. Unfinished. I hadn’t made the deadline, and letting go of it made me feel like a failure. This is where the chocolate came into play. The disappointment of not completing My List by 30, probably gave birth to my love affair with chocolate, which I guess was a nice silver lining.

But as I continued reading the Happiness Project I realized that I didn’t really have to let go of My List, I just had to extend the deadline. We get extensions all the time, why not on this, right? I mean for people who get it all done by 30, 35, or 40 well woo-hoo and great for you. But for the rest of us there’s Plan B — The Extension. Now some people may look down on it. So there are times when you get down on the dumps, because you hear all these stories of people getting to Point X a lot sooner than they originally planned. No extension needed. But then I saw this commercial and it gave me hope. I thought dude … it’s on. I mean I’m not close to 50, but it’s still on.

 

 

I could still chase those same goals and those same dreams, I could still pursue my passions, and probably experience all kinds of adventures in the process. But I’d still be able to cross off items from The List. It would just take a little longer. Passion doesn’t run out. It’s still beating inside you, like a heartbeat. The only difference is that I would no longer follow the blueprints from my original plan. I’d have to take on an alternate route. A Plan B. But just because it’s Plan B, doesn’t make it any less of a woo-hoo moment. A woo-hoo is a woo-hoo no matter what the timeline. Realizing that there would still be high-fives and chocolate waiting for me made it a little easier to feel less crappy about not completing the 30s List. This just meant that my 40s and 50s list would be more rewarding, more adventurous and requiring more Glucosamine.

 

Related articles

• Happiness Project Update 22: The Food Network Adventure Begins (thewishfactor.wordpress.com)
• Happiness Project Update 21: The Lieutenant Dan State of Mind (thewishfactor.wordpress.com)
• Happiness Project Update 20: Paying It Forward One Penny at a Time (thewishfactor.wordpress.com)
• Happiness Project Update 19: It’s All About Options (thewishfactor.wordpress.com)

Thank God for Knee Pads and BenGay

I don’t know if you can cover your butt with BenGay. I don’t know if that’s possible, but it should be. Every muscle in my gluteus maximus, every muscle surrounding it, and every muscle within its vicinity hollers out for that medicated Methyl Salicylate cream.

BenGay … it should really be a roller derby sponsor.

I’m walking around the house today, victorious for surviving my first roller derby session. Well I really shouldn’t say walking … more like hobbling. Every inch of my quads feels the pain of this work out. Apparently skating muscles are completely different from running or triathlon muscles. Completely. In truth I don’t remember feeling like this the last time I skated, which happened to be when I was in elementary school. I guess muscles in your 30s are a lot different, but it’s all good. I survived and this helped me cross off an item from my Bucket List and that’s what counts.

However, if I’m going to be honest with you I was pretty nervous about the whole thing. I really didn’t want to break anything and was so hoping the pain would be minimal. But as soon as I drove into the parking structure I thought … yeah there is definitely going to be some pain.

 

The parking lot entrance.

 

This little mural didn’t boost my confidence, but I was committed. Even though I was unsure of what to expect, I cowboy-ed up, grabbed my mouth guard, and made my way toward the entrance. I thought that there would be 15 or 20 ladies at the most. There were about 40 women in the class and for some reason that made me even more nervous. I’m not used to massive audiences witnessing my falls and challenges with gravity. But I came to learn that at least half of the class shared that same issue.

Now seeing that there were a lot of chics in this class I thought it would be best to scramble and get some equipment, which was pretty difficult. After fifteen minutes of scavenging through a pile of roller skates I finally found a matching pair.

 

I was stylin’ in purple laces, but felt out of place in my non tight sweatpants. Everyone was looking pretty svelte in their nylons or spandex attire.

 

I wanted to get a really cool helmet. Something that exuded confidence, but all the badass names were taken. So I was left with this … pretty ironic considering I was rolling in the slow lane.

 

Now when I was getting geared up I noticed the youth group practicing on the banked track. They were zooming on and off the track, spinning and stopping with such ease.

 

The “young” girls practicing, looking very non-BenGay like. Unfortunately there were no shots of me in my roller derby attire as I was too busy battling the power of gravity and everyone else seemed pretty focused on not falling either. I really didn’t want to disturb their concentration in order to capture my Kodak moment.

 

I thought if these pre-teens can be rolling without issues, I should be all right. I’m badass. I did the Warrior Dash for crying out loud. I’m a triathlete. I’m on it. I mean I may not be able to skate backwards, but dude I can do this. I got this. But the fact that I needed assistance putting on my safety equipment gave me second thoughts. This concerned me a bit. I mean if I needed help with that, how would this adventure turn out.

Well pretty good overall.

We began with some warm up exercises and just basics on the flat track, trying to work on every inch of your quads and definitely feeling the burn. Suzy Snakeyes was actually pretty nice and patient with those of us who were slow learners, and after thirty minutes I seemed to be gaining confidence. I wasn’t the fastest skater, but I wasn’t the slowest one either. And when she started to teach us how to fall without completely killing yourself, I thought man I got this. I have years of experience in this field. I’m a professional faller. And sure enough I was … making good use of those knee pads and the soft sides of my butt cheeks, although by the end of the exercise I wish I had more cushion.

After about an hour we headed to the main track, ready to test out some of the skills we learned. Or at least I thought I learned.

 

Passing all the banners as we entered the main room.

 

Now mind you, no matter how much confidence I gained on the flat track I wasn’t crisscrossing my legs, body checking, or spinning backwards. I was doing the basic swaying maneuver. However this is completely different on the banked track. It’s on a slope. A slope people! Confidence and staying low are important factors in roller derby, but when the person in front of you totally eats it, your confidence isn’t what it used to be a second ago. All you can think of is not repeating history. So needless to say that my first roll on the banked track wasn’t smooth, but it wasn’t catastrophic either.

I’m glad we covered falling earlier in class. I proved to be good at it. I managed to do plenty of it on the banked track, and I did it without needing any Band-Aids and without getting the “Ooooohhhh” reaction from the rest of my roller derby mates. However I would have liked to do one complete lap around the track without falling. I would have like to do the roller derby classic move – you know the one where you pat your hips two times and then raise your hands up in the air. Maybe next time.  For now I’m glad I didn’t need to use an ambulance. For now I’m grateful for knee pads and BenGay. Until next time.

Sandbox List Adventure VII: The Price I Pay for Wearing Flip-Flops and Sunscreen During Winter

Now while most people are suffering through cold rainy weather and snow storms with temperatures in the 20s or 30s, here I was in Southern California with a 70-degree day. Sun shining and just the right amount of poofy clouds. I thought … I really need to get out of the house. I’m taking my sunshine for granted. I could be shoveling snow and using all kinds of Chapstick, but instead I have the opportunity to wear flip-flops and use sunscreen.

And so I showed some appreciation. I dragged myself out of bed and gave in to my kids’ break-of-dawn excitement on Sunday morning. Normally I just want to sleep in, you know every parents dream. Sleep in until 9 a.m. without disturbance. But today was not the day for that dream. I woke up just like every other day  …  at 7 a.m. and instead of rolling over and turning on Sunday morning cartoons — the awesome human snooze button for parents trying to savor another thirty minutes of sleep in the morning – I dragged myself out of bed and declared a beach day.

But this beach day would include an adventure to be crossed off the Sandbox List. And in truth it was an adventure for three. It’s been four years (almost two years for my daughter) of summer beach trips, and I couldn’t believe that we hadn’t done this. I’ve always wanted to do that myself and I know my kids thought the idea was pretty awesome. There was sand flying everywhere and getting everywhere. But I took one for the team and they were ecstatic about it. After completing a pretty awesome sandcastle, our biggest one yet, complete with seashell decorations, I ventured into the all-time parent duty: Letting your kids bury you in the sand. Now no matter how tightly I tucked in my shirt, sand seemed to creep its way into various body cracks and breathing passages. But with my kids giggling, smiling, and laughing the grains of sand didn’t seem to bother me as much. It’s the price I pay for the privilege of wearing flip-flops and sunscreen during “winter”. This adventure might have only lasted fifteen minutes, but it was a quality fifteen-minute span. Something I hope they remember enjoying.

 

It first started with the sandcastle. They had to practice working with sand and placing it in the right spot. I really didn’t want to get too much sand in my face.

 

After completely destroying the castle Operation Bury Mom began. They started at the bottom.

 

This is where I thought … well maybe this might not be a great idea. However my son and daughter disagreed, they continued using their green and blue buckets, dump truck, bulldozer, hands and any other sand toys they could find.

 

The final step of Operation Bury Mom complete. My son wanted to add seashells, but I told him my face wasn’t a good place for decoration. So he added a little bit more sand.

 

Sandbox List Adventure VI: Curious George Strikes Again

I never would have thought a monkey would inspire so many adventures. But apparently if it happens on Curious George, chances are that my son is definitely interested in adding that adventure to his Sandbox List. Well in truth anything on PBS and The Sprout Channel tends to get his curiosity going.

Just wish the flu wasn’t so powerful. It’s been tough to kick this one. I’ve battled 12 rounds and it had me down for the count, but I’m back up again, thanks to multiple trips to the CVS in my proper middle-of-the-night sweats and a t-shirt uniform. I may have looked crappy, but I’m doing my best to try to regain my energy so that it meets my son’s everyday standards. I think I need more vitamins. Even though I’m finally turning a corner the crappy-sick feeling continues attacking my immune system, but adventure and a four-year old do not wait for you to be at 100 percent. So I cowboy-ed up and tackled another item on The List. Something requiring worms.

Yeah that’s right … worms. And you know me. I needed a little assistance, because slimy crawly creatures and The Guat … they don’t mix. I mean Curious George didn’t need any help from The Man in the Yellow Hat. But it’s a cartoon. The Guats are living in a little bit more challenging circumstances, but we did all right on our first fishing expedition. We may not have caught any fish that day, and my son may have been a little disappointed, but at least we had no hooking eye-gauging incidents with the fishing pole or falling in the lake accidents, and that’s what really mattered. A successful failure. Well probably not. Catching a fish would have been totally cool, because you know that Curious George caught three of them. But maybe it will happen on our next fishing adventure, you know when there are no suspect teenage characters throwing pinecones in the lake, scaring the fish. Yeah … we definitely need a teenage-free lake environment.

 

Hiking up the hill, having our Andy Griffith Show-Opie moment.

 

 

Teaching his sister the ins and outs of his new fishing pole … well at least everything he saw on Curious George.

 

 

My son practicing the reeling part of catching a fish.

 

 

Getting some pointers from his dad before he gets ready to cast his line.

 

 

The excitement was building and he was ready to do this on his own. I was worried about the sharp hook at the end, but he assured me he was being careful as he checked his fishing equipment one last time.

 

 

His sister was more interested in yelling at the ducks than our fishing adventure.

 

The ducks that caused all the commotion.

 

The Waiting Game. Something that required a lot of Goldfish Crackers and inventive stories on how he would catch all kinds of fish. We lasted about twenty-five minutes before he lost all hope and wanted to play Angry Birds. Better luck next time. Definitely. And there will be a next time. He assured me. “We just need more worms, mom. Curious George had a lot of worms and a bigger lake.”

 

 

 

 

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