Two Rivers

Day 1; Boulder to Salina, UT

There is something about the freedom of the road. We haven’t experienced it for a looooong time. When we finally locked up our clean house with clean sheets and empty fridge- because coming home to a clean house makes coming home all the sweeter- it was a feeling we haven’t had in a while. The kids’ first road trip. We’ve been talking about it for weeks, telling them all about each place we’re visiting, who we’re going to see, and how we’re going to pass the time in the car (thank God for the laptop, the ability to charge it along the way, and Matt’s ability to pirate otherwise unobtainable kid shows). We have books, fresh playdoh, art implements, music, movies, lacing beads, puzzles, and a few surprises to be pulled out at critical moments. We have snacks. We have juice boxes. We have 4 different kinds of chargers. I can’t help but reflect on how soft modern society has made us. Pioneer kids had sticks and rocks; but then again, they weren’t strapped into carseats for hours on end.

We left the house at 12:32, which was 32 minutes after our planned departure; not bad. The novelty was very exciting, Ian of course never slept but Maggie finally went down around Vail, 2 hours into the journey. When she woke up right before Glenwood Springs, in time to see the river, the tunnels, trains and spectacular scenery of Glenwood Canyon, then the magic began. We pulled out the iPhones and pulled up some visitor info. Armed with that, a quick hop into the Visitor Center yielded us directions to a great park and a coupon for a free tram ride, provided we waited til 5. We spent some time playing at the playground and visiting with local parents, kids and dogs at Two Rivers Park, where the Colorado River and the Roaring Fork River meet. It was hot; we stuck our feet in the chilly Colorado and watched some boats get pulled out of the water at the boat ramp.

We meandered over to the Swiss tram that would take us up to the Glenwood Caverns fun park. This is the best little secret we’ve stumbled across in a long time. We thought we’d just get a beautiful tram ride up a mountain, but when you get off the tram you are greeted by an old western-style park that is actually quite modern and fun. You can tour the caverns, climb a rock wall, ride a mechanical bull, take old western photos, or ride the alpine slide. Oh yes, the alpine slide. Maggie was too young, but Ian could ride with a parent, and I was extremely envious when he chose Matt to escort him. It’s like a toboggan, where you have working brakes, but you can also go full-throttle for a good thrill. Ian was not one bit scared, though the ride was quite windy he told us, and he agreed to take me down for his second ride. He gave me the go-ahead to let go of the brake, and we flew down this beautiful mountain at high speed surrounded by purple and yellow wildflowers. It was breathtaking, and I was quite satisfied when Ian told us that I was the faster driver. We made our way back to the tram, and enjoyed the spectacular double view of the Aspen Valley, lush with early summer greenery, and the canyon to the west carved by the great Colorado. We got back in the car, and back on the road, feeling like this road trip is off to a good start.

Worry Wart

Separation... haircuts... toenail clipping... thunder... but above all, wind. At what point do we worry that this is beyond normal toddler/preschooler fear, and has become a problem? When it interferes with his activities? Check. When it interferes with the family's activities? Check. When he resorts to shutting himself inside to avoid it? Check. When his fear levels him with hysterical cries, red face and sweating head? Check. My range of thoughts on the topic go from "he's smart and gifted... his intellectual understanding (yes, the thunder and the wind can, in fact, hurt you at some level) is beyond his emotional development (being able to put these things into perspective and deal with minor discomforts), to "oh my God, we have to check him in to a mini mental institution or he's going to take up smoking to comfort himself."

Ian has always been an intense kid. Anyone who has talked to us in the last 3 and a half years knows that he has had more than his share of struggle with sleep- nightmares, night terrors, night waking, and giving up naps before 2 years old. He cries when he hears a "sleepy song" or lullaby. He doesn't like loud noises or to be more than 10 feet away from us at most times. He has never, not once, let me take him to a child care for an hour at the gym or even at his preschool while I attend a meeting.

There are many, many levels on which to sing Ian's praises. Just last night a friend of a friend said "wow, he's so respectful" as he stopped to ask me if it was okay to run after the pack of kids that was not caring one iota what their parents thought about playing in the water table in the rain. He's known as a sweet and lovable kid. He has a great imagination and is physically able ahead of his years. But I find this intensity so hard to parent sometimes. Are we supposed to coddle him? Ignore it? Discipline it?? I have no idea what the right answer is. There are always two sides; he is also intensely loving, intensely smart, and intensely attached to us. We always said we were grateful to not have a "bump on a log" baby- sweet and easy but not quite present. Sometimes that sounds kind of nice.

At the end of the day, I do believe these fears will pass. I think the intensity will likely be a lifelong theme for Ian, but that will take him far if channeled constructively. For now, this family needs a vacation. It's a good thing we have a long and leisurely road trip with lots of fun stops on the way coming up next week. Let's just hope it's not windy along the way.

"Is it windy???"

Our attempted backyard picnic in the slightest, most lovely breeze on a warm day. This is just before the tears started to flow.