Ski Day!

We brought the kids skiing yesterday. Mia and I both played hooky (shhhh....) to avoid the weekend rush and took off to the mountains with our boys to enjoy a quiet almost empty day on the slopes. V skied with his buddy who is a snowboard instructor on the mountain. Mia spent her day at Ski School and I took one for the team and hung out at the lodge with Luca. Here he is, very interested in these funny looking boots he'll be wearing in a few short winters.

As I scanned through my photos tonight, Luca is beaming in every single shot.

I remember the morning being LONG with the two of us trying to busy ourselves. I guess it was long for me only though. He seemed happy enough to watch the big kids through the window. I know it would have been easier to leave him at home with a sitter while we went up with just Mia, but there is some beauty to showing the little ones what their future holds.
(In theory there is great beauty, but maybe in practice, the babysitter isn't a bad idea after all!)

He can't wait to be big enough to actually participate in "big people" activities.

Snowmobiles??? Forget about it. They had Luca at hello. Luca loves anything that moves. Trucks. Cars. Planes. And now, snowmobiles.

Luca will start ski school in a few winters. I'm guessing Doggy will be there too. Better start shopping for a teeny tiny ski coat for our favorite stuffed friend. (And people, I had his hair cut. Doesn't matter. Those hairs still reach for the stars. They're just shorter now.)

What is it with really small things? It's like I go all weak inside when I see teeny tiny versions of big stuff. Like that helmet. And those goggles. Not to mention the skis. And when I see it on my teeny tiny girl? I'm mush.

She's off!

See that itty bitty dot on the right? That's Mia. The worst picture, right? Well, yes. But also a meaningful one. Mia rocked the kiddy section and the magic carpet. She was doing a few stops and was deemed ready to ride the chair lift. They took her up and there she is coming down. It was tough for her. But she did it. I contemplated zooming in on this picture, which I can do. But I kind of love it as is. Just a small dot out there in the middle of a slope. Out of my arms reach. Out of ear shot even. On her own. And on her feet. V and I were so proud of her!

She made it down and stopped for a hot chocolate break. Then, back out on the slope. On the drive home she asked me if I could burp the alphabet. I told her that I couldn't. "One of the teachers at ski school can. He showed me." That right there folks is why I love ski school. It's a safe place to goof off. To be silly. To be little.

Burp and ski forth my sweet baby girl. We're here to cheer you on!

Good Friday

Today was a good day.

It's Friday. And those are usually good. In celebration of a week well played, we stopped to pick up a few cupcakes after Mia's dance class. I was anticipating a break down from a certain little blondie when the baker carefully wrapped the cupcakes in a container as I explained we'd eat them at home, after dinner. No breakdown. Not even a shout. Just wide eyes along with a loud, "MMMMMM". The kids watched the cupcakes shift around on the seat between them on the drive home. They played outside and waited for the sun to go down, as the bright yellow cupcakes sat on the counter. They ate their dinner, asking for seconds, without a single mention of those tiny confetti colored cakes. Then, the moment arrived to eat them and there was silence. Happiness. Frosting on faces. Not a single crumb left for Bijou.

Today was a good day.

Colorado

Just one more reason to love Colorado. After spells of freezing weather and snow, we're gifted with 60 + degree weather. Bright sun. Clear sky. The kids have been outside for two days now. Mia even had a hop the fence playdate. Luca and his same age neighbor buddy just discussed the finer things in life through the chicken wire.

Summer, I'm waiting for you. Come back to me. Quickly please.

Valentine's Day

This might look like a hug, and maybe in a toddler's mind it is. It's more of a sweet opening to a full body slam. The funny thing is, Mia loves it. She asks him to hug her before bed and they both end up thrown into the wall, laughing hysterically.

Getting both of them to "sit" and "smile" doesn't happen. But I tried my hardest to capture three pieces of my heart on this day dedicated to love.

Mia had her Valentine party, which is a huge deal for kids. Pizza sauce stained their cheeks as they cheerfully told me about the day.

I love all of the handmade details in classrooms. The amount of work that goes into these seemingly small crafts is staggering. I have sat on many a nights cutting and preparing for tiny pieces of history to be carried home by kids. Tiny projects that will be stuffed into shoe boxes and folders for years and years.

This bag is now sitting on the counter, gutted. We read through every last Valentine and coveted every piece of candy. And ate our fair share too. So wasteful, isn't it? All that paper. All of the trash. But it's a memorable part of being little. Actually, it's not just little ones that love the idea of being loved. We big kids get into it too. A small note. A sweet gesture. I woke up to a single rose and a piece of paper cut into the shape of a heart. V wrote a note to me and apologized for such a lame gift. Lame gift? Imagining him, late last night, hunched over the kids play table cutting that paper into a heart was the most romantic thing I could think of.

My dad died four years ago this week. On Valentine's Day, he was suddenly in the ICU - intubated - and we were all preparing for his imminent death. We stumbled through that Valentine's Day shellshocked. We just had no idea that on this holiday, our lives would unfold into a totally new direction. Do you know what my mother tucked into my dad's pocket? His valentine. The one he wasn't ever able to read. It was sitting on his bedside table, waiting for him. Because at the end of the day, big houses, fancy trips, fast cars, and expensive things mean nothing. A valentine in your pocket though can carry you through thick and thin.

Happy Valentine's Day. It's a day to love and be loved.

Ice Queen

We signed up for a few classes this winter. I'm not into over scheduling but days can feel pretty long during the winter months with a four year old and an almost 2 year old. No one was more excited than Mia to hear the news that we would be venturing out into the big bad world to experience some new things. She can't stand the brown skates and wants white ones. She handled the poor selection of rental skates well though. Seeing her hoist herself up to the rental window and ask, "Ummm...only brown? No white? Pink? ANYTHING else?" was priceless.

She's in class with some future hockey players and was intimidated at first. Until she discovered that she is a better skater! She gave me a shy smile as she skated back and forth while her helmeted buddies were sprawled on their stomachs on the cold ice. That's my girl....don't ever underestimate the power of a lady, boys.

Another journey. Another experience. I'm not trying to rear future Olympians. I could care less if she decides after this set of lessons to scrap the whole skating thing. I just enjoy seeing her happy and engaged. And I enjoy seeing the outside of my house and having a place for Luca to run!

Raising Women

Mia has started taking ballet lessons. She loves everything about the whole experience. She loves putting the slippers into her bag. She like the outfit. She loves pink. And she really loves to dance.

I like seeing her in the studio. She listens attentively to the directions and is always happy to see her "ballet friends".

I sat today with a friend at a party and we talked about raising girls, our daughters. I shared that I have curbed my tendency to wain into a self deprecating sense of humor when it comes to my body and my appearance. I try hard to be positive. To find beauty. To celebrate what is me. To open my arms with unabashed enthusiasm and say, "Here I am world."

Because they are watching us. Our little girls. And listening to everything. They see us pinch and pull and prod. They hear the distaste in our voices when we're talking about flabby stomachs or saggy boobs. Even with no distaste in the voice, they see us cover up our bodies and hide. I'm trying to instill the belief that there is great beauty in things the flab and sag.

I watched these sweet ballerinas skitter across the slippery floors and go careening into one another. I watched them collapse in laughter, with little bellies jiggling in delight. I watched them dive into a bag of Valentine sweets that they each received after class. I know that Mia and her friends won't always be as carefree about their bodies as they age, but we can try to harness the joy kids have with their physicality. We can try, as mothers and mentors, to be models of total acceptance.

Because we aren't raising little tiny girls. We're raising women.

The magic of Tulum

Vacations always begin as a seed. An idea. Taking the kids to Mexico was a no brainer. But where to bring them in Mexico, and how to travel, became a question that took several months to answer. If I didn't have kids, I would want to travel to a more remote area. I would chose a gorgeous little spot with no electricity during the day (solar powered) and showers with salt water mixed with a bit of fresh water. I would pack only a small backpack, with swimsuits and tank tops, and jump on any flight. But could my kids handle this? Did they need all of the things we've convinced ourselves kids need? We decided to do it, to travel the way we wanted to travel - with as little impact on the planet as possible - but with great reward. That seed, that initial idea, came to life. And it was a vacation to remember. We arrived late at night and you could hear the roar of the ocean out our door. "Is that it? The ocean?" Mia asked. I exhaled, the first good long one after a long day of travel, and knew we were home. For a week anyway. Welcome to Tulum. Bienvenidos.

The kids quickly abandoned any old routines. Any old expectations. As did we. Life became slower, and sweeter.

The kids played so well together - Mia coaching Luca at times and following behind him at others. Seeing them take on adventure was just as exciting as taking it on myself.

In Maya, "Tulum" means "wall". The town was named as such because, in ancient times, it was one of the very few walled cities. The ruins are stunning. The city was carefully laid out with precision. When we arrived to the touristy spot, with people milling about everywhere, Mia asked where all of the "old people" were and I had to explain so many concepts - "ancient", "ruins", "lost civilization". It's odd - spinning around under that hot sun in a town of ruins. The Mayans all died when European explorers came into the area - aggressive and curious. They brought their diseases and decimated the population. There, for me anyway, is a sense of sadness there.

Looking at that walled city - the remains of it anyway - got me thinking about how we all wear ourselves down with time. Roofs collapse. Side walls cave. But it's our foundations - are very centers - that hold our legacy.





There were iguanas roaming around like wild dogs all through the grounds of the ruins. These two couldn't get enough of them.

Seriously. I could get used to this life. Matteo, our chef and server extraordinaire was amazing. "Hola mi amiga!" he would shout every morning. He knew we drank tea when we first woke up and liked a coffee in the afternoon. One day, he made it iced and the result was a little bit of magic.

Another favorite hammock hangout. If you ever wanted to know why being in utero must be the most pleasurable experience imaginable, just head to the beach and hop on a hammock. It's like resting in the womb of the mother of all mothers. Pretty amazing.

Mia took this photo. The only one we have of just the two of us. Not bad work considering the camera probably weighs more than Mia. I'm always tempted to delete photos of myself because I'll find every single flaw possible. But, as I sat scanning through these photos, I'm not focusing on flaws. Who cares about imperfection? I would delete everything - every photo, every experience, every person in my life - if imperfections weren't tolerated. I am learning to just accept that I'm pretty far from perfect. And it's quite o.k.

These two have a special thing going on. He tells her stories at night. As I lay on one bed with Luca, V would be on the other with Mia, whispering her a story that only she could hear. I would hear her voice rise in fall every once in a while so I knew she was participating but I couldn't hear exactly what she was saying. And I didn't ask. Those stories are belong to them.

Nothing like some grounding down dog.

My girl and I in the yoga palapa, off to the side of the property. She and I went up to stretch one day and my little yogi worked her body into some mighty poses. I took a class one day, with a woman who appeared to be some kind of sea goddess....long golden dreads that hung to the middle of her back. Her creamy peanut buttery skin kind of glistened. Her heavy Spanish accent was almost mesmerizing. She adjusted me in a few positions and when I emerged from class, V said, "That good eh?" Yes. That good.

Our place was just a few layered bungalows with a "tree house" or palapa in the middle. The kitchen was on the ground floor of the palapa and a few tables were up top. The stairs were like a ladder. To eat in a tree house...magic I tell you.

My brave swimmer. Mia. She treads water now and does the backstroke too. Where did baby Mia go? Or have I been asking that too often lately? Mia and I would run down to the ocean in the morning, when we first woke up, to get out of the room while Luca continued to sleep. We would be in our pjs - even before we went to the bathroom. The water was like glass. So still. I like the quiet beauty of morning. Let me take that back. I love it.

Mia's own ancient ruins. The tide came in and took that little village away and Mia said, "Look Mom. The sand is all shiny again." I loved that description....of the sand becoming new somehow as the water rushed over it leaving it pock mark free. Kind of the way I feel at the beach. Shiny. New. Like I've been forgiven. Renewed.

We were in the sun from sunup to sundown. Just doing this. Hanging out. Hats and rashguards half the time. Naked some of the time for the under four set. Only swimsuits the other half of the time. Wardrobe takes on a whole new meaning on the beach. V and I didn't even wear our wedding rings on the trip. And I brought no makeup. I said this to V on the beach one day as I was rubbing that awesome white sand all over my body in a homemade exfoliant kind of way. "You wear makeup?" he asked. In total sincerity. Note to self....apparently the money I'm spending on over priced beauty products can be better spent somewhere else. The one guy I'm trying to impress doesn't even know I'm wearing it.

The attention to detail was so impressive, and beautiful. That orange sheer sheet hung over the bed like some kind of technicolor canopy. During the day, while the floor was being mopped of sand, it was tied into the artful knot, just adding color and texture to our amazing little hideout. It's the small things in life, isn't it? The way tea is served. Or how the the table is set. It's always the details that I remember. They are the soul of our days.

If you thought we would attempt going anywhere without "Bluey" a.k.a. - "Doggy", you would be mistaken. Through the course of 6 days, he was submerged in salt water, dragged through sand, vomited on once, and clung to tightly. On the flight home, Luca fell asleep with his tiny tan arm over my shoulder, holding on to doggy tightly. The smell of that small stuffed animal was mind blowing. I put him right in the washing machine when we got home and endured Luca's desperate banging and wailing on the side of the machine as "Doggy" soaked in hot water and soap. They were eventually reunited after a cycle through the dryer and, as I type, that dog is tucked safely under Luca's arm.

Luca, like the ocean, so seemingly easy - so calm and serene at moments - has a streak of pure power that can come roaring in like the tide. A few epic tantrums occurred on the flight to Mexico and I thought, Are we crazy? To be attempting a vacation that might just mean insane amounts of work for us? To be chasing this, at times, unbridled boy? But seeing him there - in the sand - naked - just worked. That spirit of his, so defiant and vibrant, bloomed there in the heat. Seeing him frantically ask for more when he saw just about anything made me realize that exposing kids to things - to life - can be exhausting. But the reward is immeasurable.

Sometimes, V and Mia would head down the few yards to the ocean without me, while Luca napped. I sat from my perch and watched them play - V skipping ahead of Mia and Mia shrieking in delight. On a few days, kite boarders dotted the sky like some kind of ancient water birds.

Our teeny hikers, ready for another adventure. They held hands in the streets and Mia dutifully carried her own gear, reminding me each time she strapped her backpack on, "You know....Papa used to tell you when you were little to always carry your own gear." She carried that pack around until her small shoulders would ache. Then, she would look to me apologetically and I'd wind up with my own backpack, plus her pink toddler pack strapped to me. Funny how as a parent, you never really mind.

Something about the ocean brings out the child in people. It does for us anyway. Luca took long heavy naps every afternoon, lulled to sleep in the hammock and then transported to a bed clad in only a diaper. The three of us would loll around the pool, swimming and intermittently hopping out to dry off in the blazing sun. We played with a ball we had found. I practiced kicking up into headstands in the sand and Mia hummed as she peeked around the property looking for the resident dogs.

There's always a few photos that break your heart. And this is one. To see them running toward that vast blue sea, that clear blue/green water, without looking back, filled me with pride.

He is a water boy. This tiny kid would run pell mell straight into the ocean leaving me to breathlessly chase him. He loved it when the waves would come in stronger and push up against his chest and spray his face. He would lick his lips and beam up at me. You know that hair of his? The long wispy blonde hair? It actually curls in the humidity - tiny ringlets across the back of his head. It's like that ocean tamed him slightly. Just slightly.

I set the camera on a small chair and pushed the timer. I was hoping to catch a photo of all of us on this remote stretch of beach. We were windblown and sandy. Dried salt covered our bodies. And we felt so at home. It was our last day in this sweet paradise. As we traipsed back the short distance to our bungalow, Luca waved to the ocean and called out "Bye".

So, it isn't just the ancient ruins that make this place special. Or the remote nature of the beaches. Or the culture. It isn't only the white sand and the incredible water. It's that I shared this time with three people whom I cherish. It's special mainly because we were able to strengthen our pact with one another - that we'll explore this big planet together. We'll be present and purposeful. And we'll do it hand in hand.