150 Mile Summer- Part 3

I remember being a young mother sitting in the living room of our student apartment over ten years ago. As my two small children tinkered there in front of me with Legos and plastic kitchen food, I wondered if I would ever have anything wise to say to them. Aren't children supposed to grow up and think back on some simple, but powerful, bit of wisdom they learned from their mother--something Mom always used to say? 

Would I ever say anything wiser than "never put play dough up your nose?"

It was a few weeks ago when I turned around to see Sophia struggling up the mountainside behind me. Her head was bent down in hopelessness and she was laboring over every step. It was a steep climb and we had been at it for a good while. The hot sun reflecting off the rocks around us settled oppressively on Sophia, adding extra weight to what was already the difficult task of moving forward.

Sophia is not usually one to complain while hiking. In fact, she usually leads the pack. But the trail to Snow Lake had her just about beat. Nothing in her posture reflected momentum or purpose. It was draining just to watch her.

"Go forward with purpose," I heard myself say to my daughter.

Go forward with purpose? Where did those words come from? They sounded sort of...wise, which immediately made me doubt they came from my mouth.

With Sophia plodding up only a few feet at a time between water breaks, I had plenty of time to consider the idea that just maybe our 150 mile summer would turn into the kind of memory I had hoped. Something our children could look back on and find real growth- wisdom even. And all at once in my mind came this collage of sage advice that somehow mysteriously escaped my mouth at one point or another this summer--

We can do hard things.

Hard things are always easier with a smile.

Go forward with purpose.

Stick to it. Follow through.

Weird. I'm pretty sure it was only yesterday I told someone not to stick play dough up her nose--I'm not talking about Lyla, either.

And if my children don't immediately appreciate all that wisdom and the persuasive family experiences that went along with it, they can someday read them here. When they do, I hope it will all come back to them and be magnified.

I can't end this three-part series about our 150 161 mile summer without sharing two noteworthy traditions attached to our family hikes. The first is turning on The Vinyl Cafe for some great stories on the ride home. If Stuart McLean hasn't told his way to the end of Dave and Morley's latest shenanigan by the time we pull in the driveway, we all sit there and stare at the garage door until he has. Our family loves good storytelling.

The second tradition sometimes serves as a slight distraction from the first, as each of us tries to stifle the noise of our growling stomachs. No matter how many snacks we snarf down along the trail, we inevitably get back in the car absolutely famished. 

The kids got so hungry on the way down from Cooper Lake that by the time they reached the car, they had a pretty catchy chorus going.

Gotta love the "you're out of tune" Beau manages to squeeze in at the very end.

I'm grateful for the opportunity to build memories and grow "wiser" with my children. Sometimes I wonder who's raising whom.

Click here and here for more about our 150 mile summer.

A Very Full Heart

There are some days I wish I could copy and paste into all my tomorrows.

Today was one of those days.

Every moment of this morning with Lyla was sweet. We ran a few errands, worked in the garden, ate, and read stories. Nothing unusual, really, but the sun seemed to shine on everything we did.

On Fridays, the kids have early release from school. So after piano lessons we had plenty of time to hike Twin Falls. Everyone kept up. Nobody whined. Nobody fought. The kids played by the river for a long time-throwing rocks, collecting pebbles, and playing survival games.

Dinner was easy- fish and lots of tasty vegetables from the garden. 

After everyone helped straighten up the house, I read aloud, alternating between picture books for the little ones and The Mysterious Bennedict Society. Reading to my kids makes my heart so happy.

At 8:45 PM the chanting started:

"Daddy's home! He's here! Dad! Dad!"

My own heart skipped a beat.

There's no way this man can feel unloved.

Tonight we bent our bedtime rules, grabbed blankets and pillows, and curled up to The Croods. I could devote an entire blog post to what I love about this movie.  I'm glad our whole family feels the same. It was nice to share some laughs together.

As we tucked their sleepy heads into bed tonight, the reality of my blessings overwhelmed me. I lose sight of them sometimes in the midst of all the demands of family life, but every once-in-a-while one of these days comes along with nothing to distract me from all that is good-so very good in my life.

My heart is full.

150 Mile Summer- Part 2

Hiking Tip #1: Being chased by a pack of ankle-biting zombies can be highly motivating. 

As our family has hiked deep into the Cascade mountains, we've found that packing plenty of snacks, donning imaginary "flying shoes," and yes, a good game of zombie tag all help to subdue the waning enthusiasm that inevitably kicks in somewhere around mile two. When all else fails, three-minute piggyback rides come in pretty handy, too.

Surprisingly nobody ever wants to be left behind on our next hike.

Some of our little hikers are better accessorized than others.

Taking a break along the Denny Creek Trail.

Hiking Tip #2: Planning day hikes along rivers where the kids can swim, climb waterfalls, and skip rocks is the way to go.

Keekwulee Falls

Nothing like a well-skipped rock along the Cooper River to put a smile on this boy.

Which is exactly what we had in mind when we tried to find an old trail that we had hiked with a much younger Beau over ten years ago.

As our memories helped navigate our way closer to the trailhead, we remembered the beautiful drive along the Skykomish River. Through the trees we caught glimpses of the sunlight as it danced playfully along the same current my husband, Wes, kayaked years before.

Then, about five miles down the road, we stopped the car.

Because we came across something we did NOT remember.

I think it might be a while before we ever hike Troublesome Creek trail again. Or even GET TO the trailhead.

Hiking Tip #3: Be prepared to enjoy a spontaneous change of plans.

Thirty miles left to go of our 150 mile summer.

Suncadia with the Kids

Our foyer was a bustle of activity. Pillow cases stuffed with clothes, hairbrushes, and a few miscellaneous toys landed with a thud in front of the door as each child hurriedly tossed 24 hours worth of belongings from the top of the stairs.

"I can't find my other shoe!"

"Did everyone use the bathroom?"

"How long will it take to get there?"

It was amid the chaos of heading out the door on day three of our vacation that I found Halle in the kitchen. She was standing in front of the refrigerator, nervously searching the floor.

"Mom, my hamster wanted to get out and play and I WAS watching her, but she ran under the refrigerator."

Guilt, worry, and defensiveness were clearly raging a fierce battle within my six-year-old; it appeared to be working out to a three-way tie.

"SHE wanted to get out and play!"

Okay, maybe defensiveness had a slight lead.

During the next 15 minutes everyone took turns announcing a better plan to catch Madelyn, the-world's-chubbiest-hamster.

She scurried under the refrigerator.
Up the back of the refrigerator.
Across the top of the refrigerator.
And down the back again.

This went on for some time until finally she could resist the strategically placed dried corn no longer.

What is it with our zoo whenever we're trying to head out on a road trip?

With the hamster back in her cage, we finally hit the road, this time headed east, across Snoqualmie Pass.

Although Wes and I get away to Suncadia a few times a year, we haven't taken the kids with us since before Lyla was born. We knew they would have a blast pool-side, racing back and forth between the two giant water slides.

We also took time that afternoon to hike down to a swimming hole along the Swiftwater River.

Wes kept a close eye on the kids to keep them safely with him in the eddy. It's not called the Swiftwater for nothing. I've never seen a river barrel along so fast.

We ended the day sometime around 11 pm on the balcony, all eyes fixed to the north and west, watching, waiting for another lightening streak to dramatically cut through the black expanse.

Hushed voices and stillness created a sharp contrast to how our morning had begun. It was one of those little moments when I want to freeze time, when my heart is full, and I can't take it all in fast enough. Gathered there all together, the kids quietly asking what makes thunder, talking about Ben Franklin, and wondering why those people were standing out there in the middle of the golf course, I was filled with gratitude for my family and every minute I get to spend with them.

"Whoa! Did you see that one?!"

"Yah, I think it's getting closer."

"You know it's getting kind of late. Maybe we should head to bed."

"Awwww...one more? We'll all go to bed after one more good lightning streak."

This conversation repeated itself several times before we all gave in, eventually falling asleep to the fading rumble of the passing storm.

150 Mile Summer (Part 1)

It was sometime around May when the conversation started.

"So, what are we going to DO this summer?"

Well, sleep in, for starters. That one scored pretty high on everyone's list...except for Lyla's. Unfortunately two-year-olds just don't see the appeal.

But after everyone in the house eventually rolled out was dragged out of bed, we could head to the library and gorge ourselves on good books of all sorts.

We would take trips to the Zoo and visit local museums. We would play at the beach, build our giant slip and slide, and get together with friends.

And, of course, we would hike. 100 miles? Too easy. 200 miles? A bit of a stretch with everything else we had planned. But everyone agreed 150 miles this summer was a manageable goal.

Because my children are suckers for checklists and progress charts, Sophia decided to make a poster.

In June we hiked to the top of Cedar Butte. Halle was particularly excited to reach the top and find what her mom and older sister had come home laughing about last year. What six-year-old wouldn't look forward to reading "Ceder Butt" on an official geographical marker?

We hiked to the top of Little Si.

And the kids all joined the polar bear club with their Dad at Talapus Lake. I'm sure it was refreshing after the two mile climb in 80 degree weather, but I chose to stand back and take photos. My husband was not surprised. He knows the only time I have ever jumped into an alpine lake was while we were dating. And the more I tell that story to my kids, the more sheets of floating ice appear in the climax. Yes, I liked him that much.

And I sure do like all these little hiking buddies we've created!