So this is joy....

It's an odd year. That means my kids will be their dad this Thanksgiving and with me for Christmas. I am always thankful for odd years. Being without the kids on Christmas is a wound that doesn't seem to heal, but being without them on Thanksgiving always makes me see more clearly the things I am grateful for.

I was invited to my sister's for Thanksgiving dinner and planned on bringing mushrooms in a creamy garlic sauce and praline sweet potatoes. As soon as the kids left with their dad, I headed to Winco to get the ingredients I needed....the day before the holiday. If the day after Thanksgiving is a shopping free-for-all called Black Friday, the day before should be call Red Wednesday for the color you see when you drive through crammed parking lots and aisles full of people all trying to buy the same items. Traffic was horrific and parking was a nightmare. At some point, while sitting in an unmoving string of vehicles all headed for the same store, I felt an (for lack of better term) out of body experience.

The sun was glistening on the frost that throughout the day, had never been free from shade long enough to melt. A cloud of steam could be seen bursting forth from the mouths of those passing by as they held conversations from their cars to the stores. It was cold, but nobody seemed to mind because they could finally wear their designer shades again. I stopped myself short as I was tempted to get frustrated by the traffic all around me. Turning up the oldies station, (which, by the way, now plays songs from when I was in high school! What the heck!) I relaxed, told myself I have nowhere I need to be, no kid induced urgencies, and no reasons to stress. So I turned away from the steady flow of traffic that was getting nowhere and approached the parking lot from the far side figuring I could use a good walk. I parked and strolled leisurely into the store with no heightened sense of irritation that usually comes when I am shopping in a crowded store.

Just getting into the building was a challenge with the cars and people with overloaded baskets exiting the store with looks of 'Get me out of this Hellhole!' I walked slowly and smiled at each person I made eye contact with. Although most people seemed to have a sense of instancy about them, nearly everyone was friendlyish. The aisles were jammed from one end of the store to the other. I made a conscience effort to soften the look of my face so I didn't come across as cranky. (This meme comes to mind).....

Then I took it all in. In produce, a couple argued over whether or not a sweet potato was the same as a yam. In dairy, a mother and daughter complained about the price of eggnog, as did two men when pricing hams. Mothers with a few children in tow looking anxious to be done shopping always catch my attention when I get to shop without my kids. I want to smile at her and say, "I know, I've been there."

People barged in front of others and others obliviously hogged the middle of the aisle so nobody could pass. Many people saw the humor in it all, however, one man even exclaiming to all in ear shot that, "It could be worse, they could charge for parking!" I walked slowly placing in my basket only the items on my list; brown sugar, pecans, yams, mushrooms, white chocolate chips...

I felt thankful for the dinner I had to look forward to and the time I would get to spend with family. I also felt thankful that the bulk of dinner was not my responsibility this year, that, I'm sure, contributed to my ability to stay peaceful.

Above all, remember that the holiday season isn't about the perfect spread of food on a fancy table, or being able to get your kids all they ask for, it's about being grateful for what we are able to do, what we have had in the past and all that we have to look forward to in the future, even if that is simply an eggnog latte, or a warm blanket. This season, I am going to try to remember that not everyone has even those simple things that we are thankful for and I want to do what I can to help those people find something in which to find gratitude.

Happy Thanksgiving, Everyone. God bless.

"Mom....mom! Listen to me! What are you doing!!?"

 I paused and thought about it as I stood in front of the stove reaching in the cupboard above for a cookbook. 

"I can't remember."

Four years ago, my oldest son took me by the hand and led me to the couch. I sat down and in a daze I realized my tongue was sore, extremely sore. My head spun and my temples began to throb with an oncoming giant of a headache. I didn't recognize the fact that my five young children, the oldest being nine years old, my youngest only three, were all scared, crying and in shock.  Slowly, the realization that I had just had a grand mal seizure began to sink in. I felt sick to my stomach, both from the seizure itself and from learning that my children had witnessed it for the first time.

It had been at least 12 years since I first found out I was epileptic. Still, to this day, although I have to take anticonvulsants twice a day, I can't even call myself by that word...epileptic. To me, the definition of that word is "someone who seizes uncontrollably all the time and has to take the bus and wear a helmet everywhere she goes." That's not a title I want to wear. The truth is (and this is a hard pill to swallow) I am epileptic, but I thank the Good Lord everyday that He has kept me safe and has allowed my seizures to be medically controlled.  As long as I take my pills religiously, day and night, I am seizure free. 

Going back to the night my kids saw me have a seizure for the first time...I have been thinking about that night a lot because for some reason my children have been talking about it recently. Hearing them describe the moments of time that are lost to me forever gives me the chills. I try to put myself in their shoes and can very easily imagine how horrified they were.

We were sitting around the table eating dinner. That is where my memory escapes me. I remember nothing else until I was brought back to consciousness standing in front of the stove. The only other thing I could tell you is my tongue was swollen and hurt like heck and all I wanted to do was go to sleep. 

This is the kids' version, told to me by Samuel and Benjamin:

"We were sitting around the table eating dinner and then all of a sudden you got stiff and leaned over onto the windowsill. We all thought you were playing around but when you didn't stop when we asked you to, we started to get worried. Then you fell over onto the ground and began stiffly shaking. We saw blood drip out of your mouth and everyone started screaming.  I (Sam) stepped outside because everyone was screaming and I had to get away from all the noise.

I (Ben) saw you stand up and thought you were fine, but then you went to the kitchen with a blank stare like you didn't recognize me. You went to this cupboard and began to look through these cookbooks that you never used.  Sam said he was going to call 911 but you said, "No, I'm fine." and then you sat down on the couch and started to talk to us."

The thought of my babies having gone through such a terrifying scene saddens me. I was supposed to be their security, their safe haven, their rock.... but they witnessed my frailty. I had been low on my medication for weeks and was taking half my usual dosage and sometimes skipping a dose altogether at that point. I had had trouble with my medical insurance and my pharmacy, and half the time, since I was feeling fine, I didn't even think about taking my pills. This is the pitfall of being epileptic but having the seizures completely controlled by medication. Sometimes, it would be so long since my last seizure that I would start feeding myself the fallacy that I was fine and probably didn't need the medicine anymore. The truth is, I do. There have been too many close calls and too many scares for me to even go down that line of thinking anymore. 

Having seizures has never scared me, how can I fear what I don't remember? The fear that my children have felt, however, thinking about that brings up an emotion I don't even have a word for.  It is an emotion somewhere between heartache and horror. One thing, my kids do for me, however, is they tell me their fears without giving me their pity. This I can handle. I can help them calm their fears but I don't handle pity very well. I don't ever want anyone to say, "Poor you!" I don't want to look into well-meaning, though pitiful eyes that feel sorry for me. 

Tonight, I had a scare of my own. While kneeling to pray the Rosary with our block Rosary group at my parent's house, Hunter fell flat on his face as we were praying the last prayers. I rushed to his side surprised, but knowing that he had fainted. He has a history of fainting, syncope they call it. But this time, as I tried to awaken him, he appeared to seize mildly, take a deep breath and then fall back into unconsciousness. He gradually, sluggishly came to, but it took him longer than I remember it taking him before. Getting him into the van, he was clinging to me as though he could barely walk. When we got home I opened the door and he was sprawled on the seat asleep. I had to wake him up again and guide him up the stairs and into his bed where he quickly fell back to sleep. I am praying he will feel fine in the morning.

Let's remember to thank our Guardian Angels for all the overtime they put in. I am convinced that not a day goes by that at least one of the six Angels that live in our household has not saved somebody's life without us even realizing it. Good night.

A Morning in the Life...

5:30 AM
Din din din din din....din din din din din....
Grab my phone, tap snooze.
5:39 AM
Same thing
5:48 AM
ditto
5:51 AM
Totally ashamed, but, yes, ditto again.
6:00 AM
Grab my phone, actually turn it off and (hopefully) get out of bed. Stand in front of my closet for a good five minutes moving my clothes from the right to the left, and back again, as I try to pick out something that I haven't worn already within the week.
6:07 AM (on a good day)
Turn on the lights throughout the rest of the house thinking that it will make the transition from peaceful sleep to rueful awakening a little easier for the kids. Hop in the shower, awwwww, I finally feel awake!
6:25 AM
As I'm getting dressed in the bathroom, I can usually hear the girls whispering just outside as they coordinate with each other how they will surprise me when I open the door. They are both dressed in their uniforms and wait patiently (but not very stealthily) for me to open the door. This happens several times a week and I have to act surprised each time because it is their special gift to me.
6:27 AM
"Oh wow!! Thank you so much! You girls are so awesome!"
6:30 AM (now, I'm running a little late)
Enter the boys room in a sweet voice saying, "Good morning boys! It's time to wake up and get dressed." I leave to finish getting myself ready.
6:33 AM
Samuel knocks on my door ready to go, literally 3 minutes from his wake-up call. I hug him and beg him to turn the kettle on so I can have some instant coffee (how I long for a coffee pot that will have the hot, brown, liquid 'hug' ready for me when I wake up).
6:37 AM
I give Benjamin and Hunter another (not as sweet this time) warning that it's time to get dressed.
6:40 AM
I go through the sweet ritual of making my coffee. Put a teaspoon of the instant variety in my favorite mug, pour the hot water, stir, pour in the half and half, stir, sweeten it with a tad bit of Stevia, stir...sip...Awwwww! My day has officially began!
6:42 AM
Turn into crazed, almost feverish domestic version of a symphony orchestrator:

6:43 AM
"Get your breakfast, did I sign your homework sheet? Stop fighting and just eat your cereal! Does anyone know if Hunter or Ben have even moved yet? Can you go check? As soon as you are done eating, make your lunch. Have you brushed your teeth? Why are you following me around, no I don't know where your birthday guest list is...why would I, and besides your birthday isn't for another two months. Go brush your teeth, your hair too, while you're in the bathroom.  Can you put the load of laundry in the dryer, I think it's been in the washer for a few days now. Hunter and Ben!!! IT'S ALMOST TIME TO GO!!!"

7:02 AM
"Good morning, Ben, eat, make your lunch and get any papers I need to sign out for me."

7:14 AM
"HUNTER, IF YOU DON'T GET UP, I WILL LEAVE YOU HOME!!!"

7:22 AM
"Good morning Hunter, you need to hurry, it's almost time to leave" (I say this every morning. EVERY. MORNING.)

7:25 AM
"Ok, everyone, get what you need to go and be ready to leave!" I toss whatever I can find to eat in my own lunchbox, brush my teeth, start turning off lights, walk down the hall to get something....what was it? Can't remember, walk back to the kitchen, remember, go back down the hall, grab my phone off the charger and spray on a fresh coat of deodorant because I feel like I just ran a half marathon.

7:35 AM
"Let's go!!"
"Mom, can you sign my conduct report?" "I can't find my lunch!" "I'm supposed to bring chips for our class party!" "I can't find my shoes."

7:46 AM
After a brief moment of losing it. I yell to anyone left in the house that I will be in the car and driving out of the driveway in ONE MINUTE!

The drive to school is usually a quiet time where each is taking the time to breathe, relax and prepare for the day ahead.

7:59 AM
Enter the classroom to find 12 Kindergartners and First Graders awaiting my arrival.

8:00 AM
Bell rings....time for the school day to begin.

Whew!! I got exhausted just recording my morning routine, no wonder I need coffee again by early recess and again at lunch. I'm sure most homes are just as chaotic trying to leave the house and get anywhere on time, give yourself a pat on the back for the little victories. Instead of getting down on myself when I'm two minutes late, I'm going to buy myself a latte just for getting out of bed and facing the next to impossible circumstances that I face once I do!

The 'Single' Most Difficult Thing

It's been a long dry spell when it comes to writing posts for this blog. I think it has become stale and may be time to think about doing something new. I've been mulling over in my mind what are the posts that I have gotten the most feedback for, what are the topics that touch the most people? Looking back they are the ones that reveal the most about me. The 'honest-till-it-hurts' type of posts that people really relate to.  Then, I began to think about the reason I started this blog in the first place, a memoir, more or less for my family, friends and especially my children. It became something more than I ever imagined; a little bit of laughter in someone's day, an inspiration to someone who thinks (quite rightly) if she can do it, I can too! And it became something else, my memory.

I will be the first to admit, I have an incredibly horrible memory. The other day I was on the phone with my car insurance and they asked me what my previous address was (the one we only moved from in June) and I couldn't for the life of me remember! The rep asked sheepishly, "You're trying to remember the one you just moved from, right?" To say the least, I was quite frustrated.  So, looking back at the details of things that I have done with the kids, those precious things they might have said, and the way I felt while raising them, to me, is priceless.

This year was a milestone for me. Cecelia turned 7 in August, which means I have been a single mother for seven years. My husband left in our seventh year of marriage. So now I have been a single mother for as long as I was married. The thing that surprises me the most is how fast the last seven years have flown by compared to the seven years prior.

I remember a specific moment when I had maybe two or three kids. A rough day was always made better by the fact that when my husband got home from work, he'd play with the boys for awhile, relieving me of being their sole source of everything! When that time of day came around, I could breathe a sigh of relief, parenting just got easier (at least until the next day). In a conversation about this with my sister, I remember saying to her, "I do NOT know how single mothers do it! It would absolutely be the hardest thing ever." She agreed.

Another memory I can recall was when I had four kids, and one on the way. I was sitting on the couch with my husband right after he told me he was moving out. "How can I raise the kids by myself?!" I said with a fearful heart and tears in my eyes. He tried to assure me I wouldn't have to do it alone, but deep in my soul, I knew he was wrong.

Another conversation comes to mind, this one with God.  The kids were in bed, my husband had moved out. I was sitting on the floor in my bedroom, tears streaming down my face. I was filled with doubt, fear and anger. I doubted my abilities, I feared my future, I was mad at God. I followed the rules of my faith, I had done things right by saving myself for marriage and got married to a Catholic man in the sacramental rite of the Church, why wasn't He saving my marriage!!??

I threw a fit right there on the floor. I pounded the ground with my fist and begged, "Why?! Why?! Why are you allowing this to happen?" Then I looked for comfort from the very God with whom I just doubted. I opened a book that was never far from my bedside, "My Daily Bread". The worn, little, red book has been a spiritual comfort in times good and bad. I did as I usually did, trusting God to move my hands to open to the page I needed to read in that moment. It was Chapter 78, it read:

My Child, believe in Me. Put your trust in My love and mercy. Many a time, when you think that I am far from you, I am very close to you. When you feel as though everything is going wrong, then it is that you can give your best proof of your faith and your loyalty to Me. You are not a failure just because things turn out differently from what you desired. Do not judge things by your disappointment or dislike. Keep discouragement out of your heart, no matter how hopeless matters may appear. Do your best and accept the results as My Will. I am your Maker and your loving God. Your most hidden thoughts are clearly seen by Me. Your eternal salvation is My main interest.....

and the last paragraph I finally understand;

What I do to you is done because I love you far more than you love yourself or anyone else. When I send you any trouble or affliction, do not complain or become sad. Peace and contentment will come to you as soon as it is for your best interests.

It was in reading this, that my conversation with God changed. It went from fighting His will to completely giving in. I flew the white flag of surrender over myself and insisted since this was His will He had to take care of us. I told God specifically, "You are asking this of me, now you have to give me the grace to get through it." I went to bed mentally exhausted that night, but the tides had shifted and I went from being a helpless victim to someone who was going to slowly begin to pick up the shattered pieces of my life and place them together to make a masterpiece mosaic, not by my own skill, but by the skill of the Great Artist.

That's certainly not to say that I didn't "complain or become sad" throughout the process. There were waterfalls of tears along the way. But never once, have I felt like God didn't have my back. Even through some of the most difficult times, I have been given the grace to be able to look back and see the reason behind it all.

So, was I right in thinking years ago that being a single mother would be the most difficult thing? Yes. But it's not as difficult as I imagined, and I don't consider myself single in the term of doing it 'alone'. I know I have the help of family and friends and, most of all, my Heavenly Father who promised He would be 'very close' to me. I feel like the 'peace and contentment' has come to me now in ways I'd never have imagined possible.




Thanks for reading,

Gina.

Autumn Change and Summer Accomplishments

"All things have their season, and in their times all things pass under heaven." - Ecclesiastes 3:1 

 It's the time of pencils, paper, chalk boards, early mornings, lots of coffee, smokey evenings, spider webs and sweaters (with sandals). The mornings are finally cool, but the afternoons still warm. Here in Washington, there is a haze and smell of smoke that hangs in the air from the tragic wildfires that have ravaged the eastern side of the state. Everyone knows someone who is fighting the fires. May God protect them all.  The filtered sun hangs like a red ball low on the horizon, it is a season of change.

The leaves are beginning to change from lush greens to brilliant golds, talk is changing from "What are you doing this weekend?" to "Did you have a good summer?" and now, our days are about to change from lazy and spontaneous to scheduled routine.

Lately our days have been spent at the school cleaning, organizing and rearranging the classrooms. The kids have spent just as much time as I have putting work into preparing for this new academic year. One day, recently, we ate breakfast, lunch and dinner at the school. I had to remind one of my sons (and myself) that I am lucky to get to spend the whole summer with them, footloose and fancy free, hours of dedicated work at summer's end is a small price to pay.

After our parent orientation meeting, I was asked, "What did you do this summer?" When I stopped to think about it, I was impressed with how much we did do. I won't go into to detail, as I already have in other posts, but I wanted to sum it all up for my children so they can look back on the summer of 2015 and remember all the good adventures we were fortunate to be a part of.

Here is a breakdown of our adventures:

States we visited outside of Washington: Idaho, Montana, Wyoming, Oregon, Colorado and New Mexico.

National Parks we visited: Glacier National Park, Yellowstone, Grand Teton National Park, and, of course, Mount Rainier.

Miles driven: over 5,000

On top of all that, I've run my first Half Marathon and the kids and I have moved into a new home! It was quite an eventful summer. We also got many memorable hikes and finally got to go camping with family for Labor Day.

Note: written weeks ago, but it started to gather dust in my draft section of posts, so I figured I'd post it anywhoo. Have a wonderful day.

Gina.

A Change of Pace

An occasion arose yesterday that required me to bring all five kids to Seattle. Now, I love going to the big city every now and then to take in the sights and sounds and even to smell the air...salty sea, mixed with yummy foods, tainted by the exhaust of traffic, but never did I think taking five kids to the bustling city by myself could be found anywhere on a scale of fun.

What I did find, however, is that not only taking kids to the city really was a lot of fun but that it wasn't all that different from taking them hiking in the mountains. 

It's a good idea to hold hands. To thoroughly enjoy the experience one must do a lot of walking!

Both have a way of letting you feel the beauty of insignificance.

You can find waterfalls in the mountains....as well as in the city. Both places give your legs a good workout!

Both off opportunities to practice your balance, and to climb like monkeys all over stuff.

Lots of opportunities to observe wildlife!

Both have signs to important places....

There are of course, some things that would never be seen in nature, and these things are what make the city a fun change of pace for us:

The Hammering Man stands tall outside of the Seattle Art Museum (SAM)

From top, clockwise: In from of Pikes Place Market, the biggest pizza we've ever seen, Ben showing his love of pigs, Isabelle excited for the Seahawks in front of the 'Clink' and again, Ben loves pigs.

And, of course, this is something you should never see while hiking in the mountains....but should check out while scoping out the city!!

Lesson taught, lesson learned.

“Life provides ample opportunity to test our mettle. When circumstances call for it, let’s give ourselves a break and ask for help.” 

― Gina Greenlee, Postcards and Pearls: Life Lessons from Solo Moments on the Road

Moments that teach my children valuable lessons are usually moments that come at a somewhat painful cost. Like today for instance, two of my boys went out riding their bikes barefooted. I told them to put shoes on but they only really learned the lesson after they both hobbled home with scrapes on the bottom of one foot. Before I even had to remind them that "I told you....," they were saying "I know, I know".

When I have opportunities to teach my children things they will need to know, I prefer to make the most of them rather than let the moment be wasted. Well, I had the "opportunity", the other day, to teach Samuel how to change a tire on a car. It's a lesson that I would prefer their dad teach them, but I don't know if that "teaching opportunity" would present itself with him so I felt the burden had fallen on me.  

To start off the day, I began to make breakfast but was short something (I can't even remember what it was now) and when I started to back out of our driveway, I noticed it felt and sounded different. I got out to look around and saw right away that the back, passenger-side tire was completely flat. "Ugh." 

So I headed back inside the house to call Kia's roadside assistance hotline but stopped myself short when I understood I was presented the perfect opportunity to teach Samuel something he would someday need to know. The weather, though quite warm, wasn't wet and we were at our own home. These circumstances beat being stranded on a busy freeway in the pouring rain. So, yes, I decided to show my oldest son how to change a tire (then maybe next time I wouldn't HAVE to be in the equation at all)

Some of the steps I had to learn as I taught, like how to lower the spare from underneath the van, and where exactly to jack the van up from. Did I say it was "quite warm"? What I meant is it was pretty DANG HOT!! By the time we got the hang of the jack apparatus, we were both dripping sweat and frustrated for no other fact than that it was SO DANG HOT! We made sure to loosen the lug nuts in the right order, but not all the way until it was ready to come off.

"Phew!!" Flat tire off. We noticed a large piece of metal (bigger than a nail or screw) lodged in the tire tread. That explained it. Now to put the spare tire on. I read in the manual that the tire went on "Bevelled side out". What the HECK did that mean? Bevelled....who says that?!! I had no idea what bevelled meant in regards to a tire.....so I guessed.

We managed to get the tire on, screw on the lug nuts, lower the van....then, and ONLY then, we noticed the tire stuck out a good four inches farther than the other normal tires. "That does not look right." I told Samuel. We were worn out on account of the heat and filthy from the dirty tire, but the reality sadly sunk in and we knew we would have to take this tire off and turn it around. Before jacking the van back up I tried loosening the lug nuts. All but one loosened right up. One was being stubborn, it acted like the child who, upon not getting the exact piece of dessert he wanted decides to fold his arms and plant himself in the middle of the floor instead of heading off to the bathtub. NOTHING I did worked in moving this stubborn piece of metal. I tried one last time. We attached the lug wrench, I stepped up on it, jumped, and "FLOOSH!!" it was off, I was down.

I knew instantly that something was wrong. The nut had flung off the wheel and part of the bolt was now lodged in the nut...broken off of the vehicle. Upon realizing this, I sat down in exhaustion and felt tears well up. I didn't want Sam to see me so worked up so I abandoned the project and left for the house. After regaining my composure, I called the Kia Roadside Assistance hotline and they suggested that I get it towed to a shop. They asked what dealership I wanted them to tow the van to; the one five miles away or the one I got the van from, 16 miles away. Although, I would've preferred them take it to the farther one, I was too exasperated to care and simply told them, "Whatever's closest."

Long story short, my dad came over, the van got towed, they couldn't get to it that night, as they suggested, we went to the dealership for a loaner car, they didn't have one, the next day they told me the tire was unfixable and for a new tire and labor it would cost me $144. I called Dad, Dad called dealership, yelled at them, we went and got the van, took it to trusted dealership and they fixed it all for $20. What should've taken half an hour turned into a two day affair.

So, yes, a teaching opportunity arose. I took it. Sam learned to changed a tire but the real lesson was one I learned: Ask for help.

First Vacation Race Under my Belt

Yes, it's been awhile since my last post. From finishing up the school year to moving into a new house to driving to Yellowstone and back, we haven't been without activity around here. The summer is in full swing and it is hotter than ever in the Pacific Northwest! However, much has been accomplished and now, I feel, is a good time to get back into writing. Since my last post was about preparing for the Yellowstone Half Marathon, I will start with an update on how that went.

"The best laid plans of mice and men often go astray" says Robert Burns. That quote is as true as could be regarding training for the race. For six months from January to June I stuck to a restricted no sugar diet. Not only no sugar, but no foods that act like sugar; potatoes, bread, anything with wheat, oats, corn. I don't know how it happened really but I stuck to it and didn't even find it difficult. Then, came the road trip to Yellowstone, and candy and other junk found it's way into my mouth and since then, I can't beat the addiction!! What does this have to do with running the race? It's to point out my state of being the week leading up to running 13.1 miles.

I had been eating like Cr@P and sitting in a van for many hours a day. But even much before that, months, in fact, I could not bring myself to train. The thought of running was as far as I could go. There was ALWAYS something better to do and it often involved doing nothing. I should say it involved relaxing, which, to me, is doing something. It's not that I was lazy. I was working full time, and then coming home with my five children and running was a hurdle I couldn't force myself to jump. I seriously ran maybe once every two weeks....max!! For a month I took a few rowing classes, so I wasn't exactly sedentary, but in reality for months leading up to June 13th, 2015 I didn't train to run a half marathon at all.

So after driving a day and a half we got to Glacier National Park and camped for two nights. Then we drove all day and arrived in West Yellowstone on June 10th. We ate, met up with my folks and my sister and brother-in-law, ate, saw hundreds of buffalo, ate, saw many wondrous geysers and hot springs, ate, sat around a campfire, ate....you get the picture.

June 13th rolls around and it's race day!! The night before I laid out my running clothes, wireless headphones, socks, shoes and hat so I would only have to roll out of bed, get dressed and go. At this point we were staying in a very nice cabin and my mom and dad together with my sister, Emily and her family were staying at another.  Mom and Emily picked me up and we went together into town where the race was set to begin.

I was mentally prepared for this race in spite of my lack of preparation and fear had no hold on me. Maybe it was ignorance that allowed me to have that mind set, I've never ran a half marathon before, in fact, I've never ran farther than 5 miles at one time and I really didn't know what to expect. All I knew is I have a stubborn disposition and if stubbornness alone is what it takes, then I was all set!

I got my racing bib, the timing chip that went on my shoe to accurately calculate my time and my race shirt. I checked my sweatshirt and wallet at a gear check table and then turned on my prepared playlist of running music. If nothing else, songs the like of, 'Eye of the Tiger', 'Rolling in the Deep, and 'Moves Like Jagger' could keep me moving. One thing I forgot, however, was to charge my wireless blue tooth headphones....so now I had no music. Stubbornness, alone, would have to do.

Due to the large number of people (okay, really due to my lack of experience and maybe a little bit of "blonde" tendencies) I lined up ready to go....in the wrong direction. I was getting in line toward what I assumed was the rear of the line where you are supposed to be if you consider yourself a slower runner but I was confused by the pacer numbers. Why are the shorter times toward the back? It was Emily who ended up helping me get my bearings straight.

The National Anthem was sung. The gun fired. We started out slow, simply trying not to bump into anybody. The crowd slowly began to disperse and I found a man carrying a full-sized American flag in honor of our country's vets. He was running the race and I figured I could keep up with an old man carrying a flag...on a pole. I stayed directly behind him for awhile. Before I knew it we came to the first tall vertical flag that announced what mile we were on. Mile 3. I was in disbelief! Was it really already three miles?  Three miles at home was almost quittin' time. My energy soared at this point. The mental boost was bestowed at that 3 mile mark and I knew then and there that I would do this just fine.

At mile 4 we had the first opportunity to get water and honey packets. It was the first time I stopped running and it was good to catch my breath, but only for a second. At this point I lost track of the flag carrying vet and had to find someone else to "try to beat". As long as I had someone I thought of as my competitor,  I had a reason to keep running. "I can't let her beat me!" This time it was Supermom, running while pushing her toddler in a stroller. There was no way my pride would allow myself to slow down now.

Miles 5-7 were uphill and nearly everyone around me began to walk, as well as myself. It was getting quite warm and my lungs were glad for the break. Walking uphill is the same as hiking....that, I was used to. Before long the path straightened out and I picked up my pace (only because Supermom kept trying to pass me up). The scenery was lightly forested, a small river meandered down it's rocky path on my right. At one point I realized the pacer carrying the 02:30 time was nearby. I was stunned. I had told mom and Emily to be back in three hours to cheer me to the finish line. Now I began to think I would beat them there.

I was grateful for the cold water at mile 9 and took extra time drinking from the rubbery clip on cup that all the racers wore in order to prevent litter. In that extra time Supermom passed me up and I began to look for another competitor. I found that in a pretty twenty-something Asian girl. No way is SHE going to beat me! Without even knowing it, she motivated me for the next three miles, until I came upon Supermom again. Seeing the mile 12 flag excited me the most. Almost there!! Yet, so exhausted. My heart and lungs never struggled with the thin, high elevation air as we were running at least at 6600 ft. elevation, but my legs began to feel like lead.

There were people along the way, Boy Scout troops, Girl Scout troops, volunteers, and locals who lined parts of the course to cheer on the runners, they will never know how their words of encouragement helped me that day. When I saw the 13 mile banner my heart skipped a precious beat. I could hear the crowd cheering and a voice on a speaker, but couldn't make out words. A tenth of a mile ahead I could see cars, flags, people, tents...I was so close. I picked up my pace in order to finish strong. I had to convince my legs that they could, and would move, like it or not. Asian girl and Supermom were not in sight but I was pretty sure I was ahead of them as I couldn't recall them passing me up.

A wave of emotion came over me as I could see the end. It was an incredible sense of accomplishment mixed with relief. I tried to sprint to the finish line because isn't that what you are supposed to do? When I watched the video of me crossing the finish line that was posted online in the following weeks I looked pretty goofy, like a child running to it's mother, arms flailing in all directions grinning from ear to ear. But oh, what a feeling!!

I did it. I beat my family who showed up ten minutes later to watch me finish, but the pride in my children's' expressions were priceless. My time: 2 hours 39 minutes.

I wore my medal with pride. I wasn't racing an American vet, or Asian girl or Supermom, I was racing myself, and I won.

P.S. The next day I think I discovered the real reason for training. I could barely move! My legs were revolting with pain and my digestive track was screaming at me as I was driving for 10 hours to Boise, ID.  I'll say no more.

Training Log 2/28/15

The weather was so beautiful yesterday that nothing I could say to myself could justify not going for a run. I didn't even try. Good weather is never taken for granted around Western Washington and any day you can see a blue sky is a day to be outside. So the kids got Papa to pump up their bike tires and I put on my running shoes.

On one shoe I wear the Spark Tracker from Sparkpeople.com which tracks how many steps I've taken, length and type of activity and calories burned. As silly as it seems, it's a great motivator and has helped push me on when I have had the burning desire to fall down flat on the ground and give up.

Samuel and Benjamin led the way as I walked/jogged/ran next to Cecelia on her too-small-for-her bike with training wheels (Hunter and Izzy were staying the night at friends houses). Cece wore a fancy dress-up vest over a frilly shirt with leggings and fuzzy boots. On her back she carried a backpack filled with stuffed animals. Her hair stuck out in all directions due to her two-day-old braids. Hey, it was Saturday morning, anything goes. Half-way to the park she stopped in the middle of the road and decided she was done. So the rest of the way I had to jog along side her motivating and occasionally pushing her onward.

When we reached the park, I put Samuel in charge of Ben and Cecelia and I began to run the 1/3 mile track.  It was a narrow gravel track that traced the outline of a large field, then swerved around the play area through some tall evergreens. It was nice to get lost in my music and feel the sun on my face. I didn't have a specific mileage that I wanted to accomplish but I knew it wouldn't be less than two miles. At two miles, Cecelia had to use the restroom, so that decided it was time to go....I was ready.

It ended up that Cece had a burst of energy for the bike ride back home (which was probably about half a mile) so I ended up jogging that distance as well. We stopped at Nana's on the way back home. As was expected she refueled the kids with cookies and Pop Tarts and gave me a bottle of water. The best part of the day was getting to visit with her.

To sum up my run on 2/28/15:

2.5 miles
Not sure how long....
Felt great the whole time, I am slowly building endurance.

My motivating thought for the day.

Half Marathon Training - Week 1

Training to run a 13.1 mile race at high elevation began in my mind. It had to, my body wasn't ready to get up and move. I love to relax on the couch once the kids go to bed, sometimes it's the first time I get to sit down and not think all day long. So I read how to train for a half-marathon. I looked at a map of the course, I watched videos on Youtube about proper running techniques, you name it...I put off the actual training part for as long as I could.

Then at the beginning of this week I got an email with a training plan for this specific race. I could put it off no longer. Do I enjoy running? Not really. Why, then, would I put myself through the torture of running so far for no apparent reason? The answer is this: while I don't particularly enjoy the actual act of running, I love the feeling you get after you are done. I hate the gym, riding a bike isn't my thing, I'm not the best swimmer, so I needed an activity that fit my life.

Hiking will always be my exercise of choice, for one, I don't even consider it exercise. I enjoy every aspect of it, not just the feeling of accomplishment at the end. But hiking everyday isn't an option with my busy life. Running puts me in the outdoors, but can be accomplished on a treadmill if the weather is nasty or if it is dark out, so it is choice #2. One interesting thing I just thought of; I am a scaredy cat to run on the streets in the dark....and I probably should be, but while hiking alone, in the dark on the Wonderland Trail, I didn't feel fear.  People scare me much more than nature. ANYWAY....

I want to keep a log of my training and by doing so here I will be held accountable when my body would rather be glued to the couch. I will track my mileage, my time, my perceived exertion and whatever else runners tend to track. As you've probably guessed, I'm not much of an athlete, but I have the desire to be healthy. I want to set a good example of not only a healthy lifestyle for my children, but that if you set a goal, you see it through.

Today's run:

2 miles
25 minutes
wanted to stop after 10 mins

On a side note, iTunes Radio has a cruel sense of humor. Around 7 minutes into my run the music on my headphones cut out and a commercial for a Burger King Whopper came on describing in all it's juicy goodness why it's the best burger out there. Mmmmmm! Must. Keep. Running.....

"I Want You To Do This." -God

The older I get the more and more I realize that everything happens at the right moment for the right reasons. God's plan for our lives are better than our own, but sometimes, just sometimes, our plans coincide with God's plans and everything syncs the way you want them to. This is happening to me right now.

I have always desired to visit Yellowstone National Park, and for awhile I have wanted to run a Half Marathon race. 'Lack' has always prevented me from both; lack of money or lack of time or lack of energy. But I have erased 'Lack' from my life this year and exchanged it for 'Resolve'. I will resolve to save money for the trip, I will resolve to make the time, and I will resolve to do what it takes to train for the race.

The best thing 'Lack' ever did for me is prevent me from ever having made this trip without my children. I am so excited to be able to experience one of the world's Natural Wonders for the first with them as they also experience it for the first time.

How things are falling into place being orchestrated by the Creator of all good things:

• I was looking on Pinterest and saw something about a race in Yellowstone. I looked up the website, liked what I saw and impulsively registered right then and there. I figured I would work the details out in time.
• Then, since I hadn't been planning on running a race this year and have been rather couch potato-ish lacking in exercise, I looked up how to train for a half-marathon. Everywhere I looked said to give yourself 16 weeks of preparations. It is 17 weeks until the race.
• Tax season gave me a return that would fund the entire trip.
• Within days I had at least one of my sisters (hopefully more) and a brother-in-law on board to come with. Now I have someone to be with the kids while I am running.
• Also, within days, reservations were made for a cabin for myself and the kids near Yellowstone and also for two nights at a campground in Glacier National Park. 

The kids and I are beyond excited! 

Oftentimes, an impulsive act can get you in trouble, especially if trying to do what you want to do  brings nothing but heartache,  but sometimes an impulsive act is nothing less than God tapping you on the shoulder and saying..."I want you to do this!" 

"Nature is the artwork of God"

Adventures in Wonderland: Solo Trip, Final Day

“It is good to have an end to journey toward; but it is the journey that matters, in the end.” 

― Ernest Hemingway

I woke pretty early the next morning, or maybe I never went to sleep, I'm not sure. I know for sure I listened to the rain pour on my tent hour after hour and wondered how long it would take before I simply floated down the mountain side. Several times an ominous drip fell onto my face when my over-saturated tent just simply couldn't keep another drop from falling inside. As soon as the light of day overtook the soggy darkness of night I decided the best thing would be to brave the inescapable wetness and get the rest of my journey over with.

It was going to be a short day, only four miles, and for that I was extremely grateful. The last two miles would be in familiar territory as I headed closer to Sunrise where my van was parked, and where I had hiked so frequently over the last couple of summers.

The rain continued as I packed up camp. My bag was heavier than ever, and I had to completely surrender to the fact that I was just going to be hiking wet. There was no other choice. There is something to be said for the peace that comes when you surrender yourself to circumstances that are out of your control. Once I did just that, I can honestly say that despite the cold and wet conditions I truly enjoyed my final stretch on the Wonderland Trail.

From Granite Creek Camp I made my way through the dripping and foggy woods to the silent meadows. The sound of my feet on the muddy path was the only sound that could be heard. The wildflowers bowed down to the weight of the rain and everything was green. The positive aspect of hiking in the rain is there was not a bug in sight. No mosquitos looking for a hot meal, no bees flying circles around my head.

A little over a mile from camp I reached the ridgeline that I had been ascending to since I started out that morning. I couldn't see Rainier's summit due to the fog, but the views where breathtaking nonetheless. There was a stillness that was unlike anything you experience at home. The clouds morphed slowly over the surrounding hills giving me glimpses of distant peaks. I felt like I was in the  Lord of the Rings movies with the sweeping views of treeless, green panoramas with rocky outcroppings dotting the landscape. It was beautiful, it was all mine.

Before I knew it, I found myself at a familiar crossroads. The Wonderland Trail came to a point that met up with at least four other possible trails. Walking up to that spot I could finally say that I had hiked every trail that broke off at that one point. As I stood there memories of former hikes flooded my soul; my treasured solo hike to the Burrough's Mountains, the hike with beloved friends up to Fremont Lookout, the hike with my children to Frozen Lake and I remembered clearly the day only a month prior that I stood in the same spot with a terrible dread in my heart wondering where my ten year old could be. The day that fog covered the mountain and Hunter, along with two sons of a friend, disappeared as they hiked ahead of us. For three hours we searched, we yelled, we split up and gathered as many people to help us search as possible. For those three long hours in weather even worse than that which I found myself then I prayed, I begged all the angels on that mountain to keep them safe. They did, he was found only moments before a full on search was organized.

I continued hiking, happy that I knew exactly how far I had to go. I knew this part of the trail so well, every rock was familiar, every turn predictable. I passed the large rock that I huddled behind with Samuel and my niece, Ava as we tried to keep the biting wind from passing through our clothes and into our bones the day Hunter went missing. The memory of that day stayed with me for the rest of my trip. The feelings I experienced then, flooded my mind as my feet squished in my wet socks. I was so excited to be almost done! About a mile to my van, I began to be throughly chilled. My body shivered in an attempt to keep warm, but being soaking wet from head to toe, it seemed an impossibility.

I saw human beings for the first time that day only fifteen minutes from my van. It was a husband and wife and they had just begun their hike. As I past them I overheard them talking about how they had forgotten their camera and the wife was telling her husband he needed to go back and get it. All I could think was, 'For crying out loud, who hikes in the rain for fun!!?' I couldn't decide who I felt worse for, the man who had to retrace his steps in the rain or the woman who had to stand and wait. I hadn't even thought about taking pictures that day, and for that reason I don't have a single photograph of my journey that day.

Finally, I reached the last stretch, the 'staircase' of rock and gravel that led down to Sunrise Visitor Center. The end was in sight! I began to quicken my pace, I'm not sure you could call it a run with my wet clothes, my heavy pack and my blistered feet but I felt like I was flying! As I reached the parking lot, I used the restroom and headed to my van praying that it's battery wasn't dead. Anyone who knows me, knows that it would not be a bit of a surprise if something went wrong before I got home, it's just my luck, it always has been.

The sight of my headlights blinking when I pushed the button to unlock my van told me everything was okay. I breathed a sigh of relief, started up the van and turned on the heat as high as it would go.  A white plastic trash bag filled with clothes waiting to be taken to the Goodwill was in my trunk and I dug through it to find some dry clothes to change into. As I drove off the mountain at 9:10 AM wearing pink fleece pajama bottoms with penguins all over them and a stained oversized Seahawks T-shirt with no shoes or socks I thanked the good Lord for keeping me safe. I thanked Him for the beauty of His creation that I was allowed to share in.

Stuck in a dorky smile that could not be erased, with matted, wet hair and wind burnt red cheeks I was on cloud nine. I completed what I had set out to do just over a year ago.

         "...If you can dream - and not make dreams you master;
             If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
             If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
            And treat those two impostors just the same; "

Triumph and Disaster; sunny days and thunderstorms, there is beauty in it all. I have learned to never let the difficult moments in life negate the precious moments and to appreciate the great moments for what they are; glimpses of Heaven. Tiny glimpses of Heaven is what I saw on the trail that took me on a circular journey of 93 miles around Mount Rainier. Where will I see Heaven next? In the smiles of my children? In the laughter of a friend? Yes. Everyday I will try to see the foretaste of that Paradise which we were all made for.

Adventures in Wonderland: Solo, Day 2

The trouble ain't that there is too many fools, but that the lightning ain't distributed right.

-Mark Twain (a.k.a. Thomas Jefferson Snodgrass)

I love Mark Twain, which is the reason I know that he also, at one point in time, went by the pen name Thomas Jefferson Snodgrass, but that's off the topic.  On the second day of my solo trek to complete the Wonderland Trail, however, I prayed that the lightning that struck the mountain during the latter half of that day's hike, would not be "distributed right".

After my night time talk with my camp 'friends', I decided that I would take it easy the next morning. I would sleep in, eat my breakfast slowly and savor every minute of the morning before I began the eight mile hike to Granite Creek Camp. I'm not sure what changed that plan, but it didn't quite pan out that way.

I woke several times throughout the night feeling something outside my tent. I barely heard anything but I could feel footsteps not too far away. I will never know exactly what it was but I sensed it was deer or some other hoof-footed animal. It must have been a busy night for the critters because I once woke to a noise on my tent. I couldn't sleep until I found out what that was, so I lie there awake, eyes fixed on the thin flap of material that kept me safe from the prowling wildlife. Just before I was about to drift off to sleep, the mystery was solved.  I saw the silhouette of a small mouse run a circle on the door of my tent before it got down and scattered away.  That was pretty much the end of my sleep for the night and since my phone died the previous day, I had no way of telling what time it was. Still dark, that was what time it was.

I drifted off to sleep only to feel like moments later my eyes were opening to daylight. I lie there relishing the fact that I was on nobody's schedule but mine. Soon, nature was 'shouting' however and the knowledge that I had to walk right next to the guys camp and use the 'toilet' practically in their "backyard" made me feel much less sociable than when I arrived to camp. Nonetheless, I did just that and then quickly packed up, ate a granola bar, and bid them a friendly farewell as I began the long ascent to Mystic Lake.

I was forewarned that I would be hiking uphill for quite sometime, and they weren't exaggerating!  I climbed onward through a forested hillside with a  series of long switchbacks.  I reach several small meadows bejewled with wildflowers of all colors. Several small creeks played the soundtrack of that beautiful soothing music that only nature can get just right.

About 2.5 miles past camp, I reached Moraine Park. This was

a place as close to heaven as many of its residents would ever get. Chipmunk, pikas and marmots abound. They frolicked in the meadows chock-full of alpine wildflowers. They basked in the glow of warm sunlight upon large boulders, and they ducked in and out of holes alongside the trail's edge. The trail leveled out and it was a brief respite from what had, so far, been a mostly uphill hike.

My path continued to take me through ups and downs in meadows that were buzzing and busy, with both it's own residents and several groups of day hikers who were visiting Mystic Lake.  On several occasions I was warned of an upcoming family of bears consisting of a mama and two cubs. I looked forward with a bit of anxiety to the wild sight, but it wasn't in God's plan for me to see any bears on my solo portion of the Wonderland Trail.

At 3.6 miles from camp I arrived at Mystic Lake. Just before I approached the lake, however, I began to see out of the corner of my eyes what I thought were grasshoppers leaping from my path in fear of getting squished. But on closer examination I discovered they were little tiny brown frogs. The path was very dry and I had yet to see water, so I pondered over the fact that there were so many (at least a couple dozen) small amphibians on the trail. They were fun to watch but hard to photograph as they were nearly camouflaged on the dusty path.

My fellow campers at Dick Creek told me of a bustling lake with picnic-ers and skinny dippers. Upon my arrival, however, I fortunately found a place of serene solitude. Not a soul in sight, a peaceful silence fell upon my ears and I relished the beauty around me. I looked forward to taking in all the lake had to offer, for me, a place to set my pack down and soak my tired feet. The sun was warming and the lake was cool but not cold.

I took off my boots and tucked my socks inside them. Hiking up the knee-high leggings that I wore under my skirt, I slowly walked on the soft sand that settled at the bottom of the lake. The water was crystal clear and as I moved pollywogs quickly swam away. I walked ever so slowly, not wanting to break the silence that surrounded me and not wanting to intrude on the lives of those that called this place home. Fish jumped from across the lake and a few feet away a salamander swam toward me. I watched closely with fascination and joy. It felt like I was surrounded by God Himself.

Soon, my stomach grumbled for food and I sat down for a bite to eat. My appetite was next to nothing but by the noise my stomach was making I knew I should probably eat something. All I could manage to eat was a few pieces of beef jerky and several Bit o'Honeys. I'm not sure why, when I was expending so much energy, I had such a lack of desire to eat (heavens knows quite the opposite is true when I'm home).

I knew I couldn't stay here forever, and the thousand of just hatched dragonfly babies, (at least that's what I diagnosed them to be) prompted me to move on. I dried my feet, bandaged my blisters, heaved   Violet back in place and started out, rejuvenated and prepared for the second half of my day's trek.

Less than a mile after leaving the lake, I came to the first water crossing of the West Fork White River. As a crow flies, I wasn't far from where I acquired my backcountry camping permit just two days prior. I didn't know how far I was from a road, however, because all the roads nearby had been washed out by the 2006 floods. In fact, as I hiked, I traversed some of the flood damaged terrain. The trail itself had to be rerouted at some point and looked like nothing more than a rocky wasteland, the path marked by a line of stones.

The 2006 floods carved the landscape around the W.F. White River

Site of a former forest fire.

I followed several more footbridges over glacial debris and the power of the great volcano was evident through all my senses. Even with my eyes closed I could feel its great capacity to build...and to destroy. A cool wind blew down off the flanks of the mountain and falling rock and ice could be heard as I approached Winthrop Glacier. The weather began to take a turn for the worse. Most of the day it had been pretty sunny with a slight bit of overcast, but dark, ominous-looking clouds had been building.

The trail began to climb again as I hiked away from Winthrop Glacier. I stopped to get my rain gear out, so as to not have to change in the rain. It was coming for sure. Growing up in Western Washington one knows without a doubt exactly how much time they have before the drops start falling, and I knew it was soon. I put my rain pants on over my leggings, stuffed my skirt in my pack, covered my pack with a plastic garbage bag and before I was heading uphill again it began to rain. Not a light sprinkling, but giant juicy drops that splattered when they hit. Almost as soon as the sky began weeping, the clouds began to fight. Lightning bolts were hurled and thunderous words were spoken. I prayed that the storm would pass as quickly as it did the day before. I'm not one for confrontations and this one was particularly intimidating.

My prayers must have been used for other purposes that day, however, because the rain continued falling....ALL. NIGHT. LONG. The thunder and lightning stuck around too.

The way turned steep and alternated between dense forest and brushy creeks. I simply kept putting one foot in front of the other getting more and more wet as the miles passed. The trail that had been bone dry when I started just one day ago now had little streamlettes running down its center. I kept telling myself, "Just a little further and you can snuggle down into your warm sleeping bag with dry clothes...and...warm coffee...and....sleep until the sun comes back out." I reached camp 4.6 miles from the sunny memory of Mystic Lake.

The campsites were soggy mud holes and the thought of getting my tent out and setting it up made me want to crawl into a bear den and cuddle up with the family.  I went from campsite to campsite looking for one with the most tree coverage and the least amount of mud. The third one I came to was actually under a huge tree and the ground around the tree was relatively dry. Perfect! I began to set my tent up but as I did, puddles began to form on the ground around me. In the frustration of the situation I made mistake after mistake in setting up my shelter and it seemed to take forever. Finally, I took off my wet outerwear and climbed inside the tent, backpack and all.

I changed out of every item of clothing I was wearing, and with so much gratitude that I still had dry clothes in my backpack, I put them on and climbed deep inside my sleeping bag. Coffee was completely undesirable as that would require heating water on my stove...in the rain. Sleep was all I wanted, sleep and warmth.

Well, it rained and rained and rained. Oh, and did I mention that it rained with thunder and lightning storms ALL. THROUGH. THE NIGHT! Sleep was evasive as I lie awake dreading that my tent would begin leaking or my camp would be flooded. Several times I was startled out of "almost sleep" by a cold droplet landing on my face.  The thought of next day's hike being short and final was the only thing that kept me sane.

Mystic Lake

Winthrop Glacier, up close and personal

Last picture of Rainier's summit before the weather turned bad.

I am Supermom!

My kids often ask me, "Mom, if you could have any super power what would it be?" They always give me certain boundaries, however, such as: I can't have the 'power to have all powers, and I can't have something boring like "the power to take a nap whenever I want" (which is one I'd really like!). I usually rack my brain and almost always tell them I'd like to be able to fly.

Lately though, I've been thinking to myself that I'd really like to have the power of Disney's Elastigirl from The Incredibles. Here are some of the ways it would come in handy for me:

• When I finally find a sweater that I like at the mall and realize all the sizes that are bigger than extra-small are hung dang near the ceiling, I wouldn't have to wander around to find someone who could come and use the special hanger-grabbing, ten-foot pole thingy.
• When I'm at Mass during the school day with eleven Kindergarten and First Graders I could do things like; pass the children two pews up from me a tissue, get them to the right page in their prayer books, wake them up, tell them it's time to kneel, warn them to get their fingers out of there noses...all without leaving my pew!
• When my kids get into a bickering match while I'm driving in heavy traffic I could stretch one arm all the way to the back of the van and slap each one along side the head before they even knew what hit them.  They'd be so shocked that they'd bond in a shared moment of creepiness and the bickering would come to an end....forever!

Those are just a few ways Elastigirl's power would help me. Yes, that is the power I want. It's just so much more practical than flying...at least during this stage of my life.

In all seriousness, I have a friend who frequently calls me Supermom (Leah H!!). I usually brush off her flattery because, most days, I feel anything but super. One thing she said to me, at least five years back, however, has stuck with me to this day. After calling me 'Supermom' and me scoffing at the title, she said, 

"No, really. You know why you are Supermom? Because you get FIVE little kids to bed every night and FIVE little kids out of the house in the morning! That's quite the feat."

She said it with such genuine sincerity that the thought has never left me. Yes, they are older now and, in some ways, things have gotten easier, but she was right, I AM Supermom, dagnammit!  Every mom knows that simply getting out of the house is an enormous task.  Now, Leah is about to have her third child and she, too, is a Supermom, as are all moms that take on the task of raising adults. That's right, adults. We are not raising these little humans to be children, but respectful, caring, responsible adults...and that is super.

I might fly one day. Across the seas to far off lands....

But for now, I will find my power in....naps.

"Dinner can wait, just give me ten minutes....please?"

Adventures in Wonderland: Solo Day 1

" No man should go through life without once experiencing healthy, even bored solitude in the wilderness, finding himself depending solely on himself and thereby learning his true and hidden strength." ~Jack Kerouac

Setting out on the trail with my huge backpack felt foreign and familiar at the same time.  Before long, however, it was as though I had never left (minus the blisters and wet clothes). Since we were near an easy access area, there were plenty of day hikers to join me the first couple of miles and for that, I was happy.  The trail started out gently climbing up and down for about 1.5 miles in a forested canopy before I reached the first of many great views; Eagle's Cliff.

Mom said it looks like an Angel hovering  above, I'm sure it was!

Mt. Rainier from Eagle's Cliff

First chance to take my pack off and cover with myself with bug spray. It was the perfect place to take a break.

I left Eagle's Cliff having formed a trail 'friendship' with a woman who was hiking with her grown son. In my opinion, trail 'friendships' don't require you to even know the other person's name, but there is a bond in having shared the same experiences; in crossing paths on more than one occasion, in offering to take each others photo, in understanding the burning pain that we each endure in our legs and lungs and in not judging one another for the sweat dripping off our brows. I never knew her name, but I was grateful for her presence.

I left the cliff and headed further on down the trail. It was very forested and provided some great shade for an otherwise pretty warm day. At an intersection of Spray Trail, I got a little confused (the actual Wonderland Trail is way better marked than the Spray Trail alternate route). A sign pointed one way to Eagle's Roost Camp and the other way to "Water". That was all it said. It didn't mention that 'Water' happened to be one of the most gorgeous falls on the whole trail! I didn't need water yet so I went toward the camp thinking the main trail went that way and passed by the camp. What I found were some tents tucked quietly into the woods and a stinky, nasty toilet. Anyone who has read my previous posts about the Wonderland Trail might remember that when a sign reads "Toilet" it usually points you in the direction of a wooden box with a seat on top....that's it. Although, I could have made use of the "facilities" at that time, I just couldn't bring myself to sit on top of a box that was infested with giant flies....a tree was more preferable.

At that point, I realized I should have headed toward "Water". I hiked the steep trail back to where I had come from. Rounding the path, I could hear rushing water and I headed in that direction. My 'friend's' son who I saw at Eagle's Cliff passed me going in the opposite direction and he let me know the falls were "Awesome!" Climbing down some steep rocky steps, I reached Spray falls and was taken back at the beauty that I could never quite capture on camera. The falls began to descend 400 feet above and it pooled several times before falling again. Like a tiered wedding veil it fell in different levels. High above I could see how, if you could access the area, you could pass under the falls and view the world from behind it, for that however, I had to use my imagination. To my delight, there sat my friend, silently enjoying the mist and the cool wind that came up from far below. There, too, we offered to take each others picture:

In front of the beautiful Spray Falls

Hessong Rock

After leaving the refreshing mist of Spray Falls I hiked about 0.5 miles in the forest before the trail began to break out into meadows and open clearings. The trail still continued onto higher elevations. The outcropping of rock called, Hessong Rock could be seen from the northwest. It looked like a fortress in the distance, all it needed was a moat.

All around me I could see where perhaps only a week ago, the wildflowers may have been at their peak, but now most of them looked tired, and dried up. Erosion preventing stairs had been built into the dirt with logs and I climbed them methodically. I met people frequently with a friendly greeting usually spoken in passing, but I remember passing one couple in particular, and the man exclaimed, "Welcome to flower heaven!" I guess the Bear Grass that was still in full bloom was pretty and the occasional bright Indian Paintbrush were spectacular in and of themselves, but I thought to myself, "I'm not sure I'd call this 'flower heaven'." I agreed, however, and said, "Beautiful!"

But as I continued climbing to elevations where the snow had taken longer to melt, the flowers popped in vibrant color from every direction. They crowded the path and covered the meadows. The brightest pinks, and the deepest purples were highlighted by the sun. The passer by had been quite accurate in saying that this was flower heaven. It was the most fragrant 1.5 miles I've ever hiked. It was here that my backpack was christened, "Violet". 

"Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it." -Mark Twain.

This quote came to mind in the meadows of Spray Park as the fragrance of so many flowers filled my senses. Forgiveness is something I realized I was working through on this journey, and my backpack seemed to crush me at times....so somehow, in the jumbled and mixed up way my mind thinks while I am hiking, Violet got her name.

Finally, I was able to give my lungs and legs a break as the trail crested upon reaching an elevation of 6,400 feet. It was in this barren area that I lost Spray Trail. Permanent snow fields abound amidst pumice and talus stones....not a tree in the near vicinity. My joy at being able to hike downhill at last was overshadowed by the fact that I had no idea which hill to hike down. I wandered in confusion trying my best to scout any sign of previous hikers footprints. I saw a few here and there, but nothing that led to anywhere specific. I scanned the panoramic scene around me for the usual winding trail, but saw none. The air was unusually still for such an open ridge, there is almost always a breeze coming up from somewhere, and the sound of silence was deafening. I felt like I was on the moon. Not a person in sight. At this point I decided it was time to call on my Heavenly Companion to guide me in the right direction. "Holy Guardian Angel, lead the way, help me find the trail!" I pleaded with anxiety beginning to rise in my chest. "PLEASE!"

With that final plea, almost instantly, my eyes focused on a bird almost completely camouflaged by the rocks. With a little research, later on, I discovered it was a White-tailed Ptarmigan. I hadn't seen it before, although it felt like I had been wandering the same area trying to get my bearings. She stood only feet from where I was, as still as could be. I stood still also, a little in awe. I stared at the bird for a moment as she held her gaze in a fixed direction. Wondering why she wasn't moving, or even looking in my direction, I looked to where she was looking. That was when I saw the hiker, himself almost camouflaged by his surroundings. He was carefully coming down from a steep rocky decline on the other side of a snow field. I whispered a prayer of thanksgiving as I knew my cry for help was answered. I snapped a few pictures of the bird (and the babies she had hiding with her) and head in the direction of the hiker.

If you look carefully you will see her two little chicks!

 "Boy am I glad to see you! The trail was looking a little sketchy here." I said as I greeted him

"Where are you headed?" he asked.

"Dick Creek."

"Not tonight, though, right?" he said.

"Yeah.....why?" I was getting nervous.

"Are you supposed to be on the Spray Trail?"

"Uh-huh." Now I was really nervous.

"Oh, that's down there," he said, pointing in the general direction I had come from. "Right now you are on a climbers trail. If you keep heading in this direction you'll just keep going up. A buddy and I have cross-country permits for two nights to be out here."

A long story short, he got me started in the right direction and I eventually found the trail again. In the end, I met another trail "friend" and realized the true care of my own Guardian Angel.

After finding the trail, I did indeed begin to descend. The tell-tale sign of a change in elevation evolved with the drop of every thousand feet or so. Somewhere between 6000 and 5000 feet elevation the trees began to appear again. First, the tough but scrawny and wind-shaped sub-alpine fir, then the mountain hemlock and soon I was back into the shadows of the tall Douglas firs and cedars....and thankfully so!

No sooner had I reached the cover of the forest canopy did the groaning and growling thunder tear apart the cocoon of silence that I had been wrapped in as I hiked the last two miles alone. Now, a sense of fear set in. The sky had become much darker and the storm, according to "Mississippi" was only four miles away...then three miles...and two. I was so grateful that the storm held off until I was down from the open and desolate top of Spray Park. Every flare of lightning had me holding my breath and counting, "One Mississippi...Two Mississippi..." and every crackle of thunder made my heart race. One thing I noticed as different about being in a storm in the mountains is that the sound of thunder, while retaining the low grumble I was familiar with, had a specific sound of true electricity...a cracking, popping sound like when you place the red wire of jumping cables on the positive terminal of your car battery.

I prayed that evening....hard. I begged St. Philomena, whose feast day it was, to make the storm go away and to keep me and all those on and around the mountain safe. I don't remember how long the storm lasted, but it did move on. The sky lightened and I felt not even a drop of rain that day.

The guide book said, "from Cataract Valley Camp you will begin the seemingly long descent of 1.6 miles to the Carbon River below." That is where I was when the storm ended. The author wasn't joking when she said 'seemingly' long. That was the longest 1.6 miles I had ever hiked, especially with the knowledge that once I reached the Carbon River I still had 1.2 miles to go! At Cataract Creek, I stopped for water and to my surprise I happened upon an older couple who were doing the same. I was so happy to see other human beings, but I left not really considering our encounter a 'friendly' one. The woman spoke not a word and the man spoke plenty for the both of them. He ranted on and on about how, 'there was NO WAY that was only 8 miles from Mowich Lake,' (I agreed) He threw off his pack, kicked a few rocks and was too worked up to even sit down and relax before his final stretch. He acted out exactly what I was feeling inside and on top of it all, twilight had set in and it was getting dark fast.

I didn't say much, purified my water and continued on my way. When I reached the Carbon River a woman was waiting at the junction for the couple I had encountered. She told me they were her parents. I confided my nervousness at having to hike over a mile in the dark and laid subtle hints hoping that maybe I could set my tent up at their site. She didn't take the bait, so I hurried on my way.

I reached a place that I used to love to hike to as a teenager, the Carbon River suspension bridge. But on account of being in a hurry, having to relieve myself and the fact that the sun was quickly dipping below the horizon, crossing the bridge was actually a little nerve wracking. The sound of the rocks grinding under the angry Carbon River mimicked the rumble of thunder from earlier that day. I hurried across as quickly as I could considering that, as I swayed back and forth, I was trying to hold onto the cables and my trekking poles at the same time.

As is the usual case when you reach a river valley, the only way to go was up. So I put on my headlamp and began the rocky climb... the sound of the rushing water my invisible companion. I knew that if it wasn't dark I could see the massive Carbon glacier; the lowest reaching glacier on Mt. Rainier, but all I could see was the rough, stoney trail five feet in front of me. I sensed that to my left was a steep, rocky hillside and to my right an increasingly long drop to the river below...no trees to break a fall. The air was dry but a cool breeze blew toward me from glacier itself. Besides the sound of the raging river, I could hear occasional chunks of ice breaking off and falling from the glacier. It was an eerie sound coming from the raven-black abyss.

I was exhausted. Fear was no longer with me as I sat down on a rock that jutted out from the hillside. I leaned against my backpack and closed my eyes. The sounds, the refreshing cool air, the blackness of night, it was all comforting and, in the mind-set of fatigue, I seriously contemplated just sitting there and falling asleep. I may have done so if I didn't see what I saw next. Above and ahead of me I saw a flashing light. I knew someone was trying to let me know it wasn't far to camp. I gathered my energy and continued on. It still seemed  like quite awhile before I began to hear the lovely sound of a nearby creek. That "bubbling brook" sound that they try to capture and jail inside a CD to help people relax. Once I heard that, I knew I really was near! Upon reaching Dick Creek I saw the light flash at me again. I flashed my headlamp back to let them (whoever them was) know that I had seen them, then I quickly filled my water bottles and found my way to camp.

I said thank you to my fellow campers and then set up my tent. After laying out my sleeping pad and sleeping bag I crawled out of the tent and went to talk to my neighbors. Them were three 20-something men from Boise, ID. We conversed for about half an hour about the hikes we had been on and the hikes we all had ahead of us. They were traveling in the counter-clockwise direction around the mountain and were able to tell me precisely what I had to look forward to, and I did the same for them. We joked, laughed and relinquished the moment and when I went to bed that night, I realized that I had made some great trail friends who, like the last mile I hiked that day, could possibly remain faceless due to the mask of night.

Two things I was grateful for as I lie inside my sleeping bag that night: 1) although it had rained a bit on my fellow campers that day, I didn't see a drop of it (thank you St. Philomena!) and 2) if Mystic Camp was available when I went to get my permit I would have had 3.6 extra miles to hike that day....in the dark!!

Bear Grass

My favorites, Avalanche Lilies; my 'cheerleaders'.

Indian Paintbrush

Really cool outcropping of shale.

Yes, Flower Heaven, indeed!

One of the snow fields I had to cross going through Spray Park.

The arrow points to the "Mowich" or deer head that the Natives named the lake after.

It's looks a lot brighter in this picture than I remember it. Shortly after I crossed the bridge it began to get dark.