The First Day of the Rest of Her Life

Yesterday, Emily progressed from "little kid" to just plain "kid" as she crashed party that is elementary school.

Somehow it seemed wrong to be walking to school in the oppressive heat (don't the Berenstein Bears always know it's time to go to school when the leaves turn yellow and the breeze turns cold?), but Emily made the arduous four-block journey with admirable stamina.

(daddy took a bit of time off so he could walk Emily to school the first day)

She wasn't exactly chomping at the bit when we arrived at the playground and she became even more nervous once she was seated at her table. Yes, there were tears on both sides. But she started it. When things didn't get better, I knew it was time to leave. A kind aide assured me she would be smiling at the end of the day.

And she was.

After braving the walk  home, her first concern was for her sister, who had missed her all day. They discussed the day over the remains of Emily's lunch (which were considerable. I hope by the end of the year she'll learn to eat her lunch a little more quickly).

Today she told me she forgot to miss me because she was too busy. She also told me she needed to wear tennis shoes tomorrow. She says she thinks it's because they might play tennis in gym class. One thing's for sure: when she comes home, she probably won't remember what they did in gym class. Or anything else about school. At least that's how it's been the last two days. I'm expecting this trend to continue for the next 13 years. In the meantime, she's happy and that makes me happy.

Those Crazy Kids

Recently I was having a conversation with a group of ladies, many of whom had teenaged kids that had been left at home. I, on the other hand, couldn't get a complete thought out because my kids needed something every 5 minutes. I commented that I would be happy when my kids were able to become self sufficient to any degree. To this comment, I got the response I always get when I mention that having small children sucks the life out of me can be trying at times.

"Good luck. That never changes. My teenager still can't do anything for himself."

That set me to thinking. And mostly I think I feel sorry for people who can make this claim. I would like to take this opportunity to express my sympathy for those with toddler-like teenagers.

I'm sorry that your teenager poops his pants every time you leave the house.

I feel unspeakable sorrow when I realize that your teenager has to wear a bib at mealtime, that she spills her milk at least once a day, that the second she finishes eating, she throws her plate and demands a cookie. It must be so difficult to carry her to time-out during every meal. I can't imagine the indignity of having to wipe applesauce off of her screaming face before you have to pluck her out of her chair.

It must be terrible to have to go to a restaurant with a 16 year-old who can't sit still for five minutes and shortly after ordering starts pounding his fists on the table screaming,"I want my chicken nuggets NOW!" causing you to have to exit the restaurant with him and take laps around the building while the rest of the family eats.

I'm sorry that you can't even shop for groceries without your teenager bawling because you won't buy Oreos, causing every eye in the store to glare at you, silently demanding that you get that kid out of here now as they pass judgement on you for being a bad parent.

I don't even want to imagine what it must be like to not be able to close the door when you go to the bathroom because if you do, your high schooler will take the opportunity of being unsupervised to eat diaper rash cream, empty a bag of powdered sugar on your kitchen floor, completely undress, unlock the door and run out into the street.

How embarrassing it must be that when your child gets on the school bus without his blanket, he starts screaming,"Bwanket! I want my bwanket!" at the top of his lungs. You must get some really interesting calls from the school office.

Your child's date must be horrified when she learns that before he picked her up, you had to bathe him and scold him for having dried poop on his bum, leading to yet another conversation about proper wiping technique.

But all this pales in comparison to the pity I feel for you as I think that when your teenager is acting like a naughty toddler, they don't look nearly as cute as this.

Really, your life must be unbearable. You have my sympathies.

Dear Mrs. Toley

Dear Mrs. Toley,

I know it's been almost 20 years since you attempted to teach me to sew, but I'm sure you remember me. I was the ultra liberated seventh grader who had more important things to do than learn anything about home economics. When you warned me that my grade was slipping, I informed you that you were mistaken if you thought either myself or my parents cared what kind of grade I got in sewing class. When the sweatshirt I made had a neck opening that would have accommodated a conjoined twin, I didn't care. After all, I thought sewing was a skill best left to Donna Reed and laborers in third world countries.

I know it's been a long time, but I think an apology is due. You see, I am now the mother of two little girls and those third world countries are having a difficult time discerning between clothing for preschoolers and clothing for Kim Kardashian. Probably something to do with the language barrier.

I am also an avid clearance shopper. That means that whatever is leftover at the end of the season, I will purchase for the following year. I save an astounding amount of money but I have to take what I can get, whether it fits my ideas of modesty or not. If it isn't modest, I have to make it that way. That's where the skills you tried so valiantly to teach me would really be useful.

Case in point: Who would pass up a Speedo brand swimsuit for $6.81? Certainly not me. I bought two. It wasn't until I got home and had my girls try the suits on that I realized the "v" necklines plunged halfway to their navels.

I had a tie-on skirt from an old swimsuit that I could donate to the cause. I had to make it work.

Make it work, I did, thanks to the skills you managed to get past my less than exemplary attitude.

It wasn't easy, it's not perfect and the back of my work is a total disaster but my daughters will be covered and that's what counts.

So I would like to tell you thank you for teaching me all you did and I deeply regret not learning more when I had the chance.

Your slightly-less-liberated-than-I-thought former student,

Rachael

Olympic Peninsula: The End

Dear Friends and Family,

Thank you for reading thus far in our adventures. You'll be relieved to know that this will be the last vacation post. Next week I can get back to blogging about crazy things my children have done or the air suspension going out in my car (just to whet your appetite). But for now, I've got to finish what I've started because if I don't I may just forget the important details of our trip. I am, after all, not getting any younger nor is my mind.

Our ferry landed (is this the correct term?) in Port Angeles, Washington. If you recognize that name, then, yes, it's the very same. If you don't, then consider yourself fortunate. And if you remember the name, you'll be pleased to know that we couldn't pass up the opportunity. Especially since it was only two blocks from the ferry terminal. Drum roll, please..........

And there you have it. Yes, they do have mushroom ravioli on the menu. No, we did not eat there. It was 4:00 in the afternoon and we're not that old. I had a crazy notion that we would take a picture with Chris biting my neck, but that was before it occurred to me that there would be other people with eyes around. I chickened out.

A little more geography: the Olympic Peninsula is separated from the rest of Washington by Puget sound. At times, we were only about 15 miles from downtown Seattle (as the crow flies) but you wouldn't have known it. It's prime Bigfoot (and vampire) country and once you see it you can understand why. It's isolated and densely wooded and everyone seems to make flannel their fabric of choice.

And that is why we caught Harry Potter on opening night on a tiny screen with a crease among country folk. It didn't matter because it was SPECTACULAR. And although it cut into our Bigfoot searching time, I wouldn't have waited to see it for the world.

The next day we drove through Tacoma and across the Tacoma Narrows Bridge, which thankfully did not collapse. Then onto Seattle and back from whence we came.

You may wonder why this portion of our trip didn't include more photos. Or you may not care. The reason is this: I had the camera and by this point in our vacation, I was fantasizing about knocking one of my teeth out castaway style. It wasn't necessary as I convinced a friendly endodontist to hook me up with a root canal before we had been back in town for 24 hours. It's all good now.

Why is it important to mention this? Well, because, I enjoy being with this guy

so much that not even epic (I do not exaggerate) pain could prevent me from having the time of my life with him (aaand fade out to Green Day).

Victoria

Oh, beautiful Victoria... where to start?

Victoria was the main stop for our vacation. We stayed there two days but I could have happily spent longer. Unfortunately (and much to the shock of our children), we are, in fact, not made of money so two days it was.

A little geography: Victoria is on Vancouver Island, which is separated from the city of Vancouver by the Salish Sea and from Washington State by the Juan De Fuca Strait. And it may possibly be the most beautiful place I have ever seen.

The first thing I noticed about Victoria was the overabundance of flowers. Driving into town, there was a roadside embankment covered in roses. It didn't appear that anyone actually tended them. Quite the miracle for this girl living at the intersection of the Great Plains and the foot of the Rockies. More on the flowers of Victoria later.

THE FOOD
 
One of the most memorable things about our stay was the food. Have you ever tried fresh-from-the-docks salmon? No? Then I pity you. Here's a clue: it tastes nothing like the previously frozen stuff we get in the middle of the country. Quite possibly the best meal I have ever eaten was a maple glazed salmon fillet here.

I would have snapped a picture of my meal, but it was so beautiful when it arrived, it somehow jumped off my plate and into my mouth before I had a chance. The next day, however, we managed to get a picture of Chris' salmon fish and chips.

Isn't it lovely? You would never guess it came out of a shipping container converted into a food stand named after a Dr. Suess book (Red Fish, Blue Fish). It was an amazing experience sitting right on the harbor eating the bounty of the sea.

This little piece of local culture is called a Nanaimo bar.

I admit that we probably didn't partake of the best Nanaimo bar on the island, but I'm really looking forward to trying to make more of this recipe at home because I believe it has some real potential.

THE VIEW

Victoria is seriously beautiful. We stayed on the inner harbor in a lovely hotel

with an amazing view. 

In our two days of exploring Victoria, we never found a view that was anything short of picturesque.

THE WHALES

Our trip planning started out with the idea that we would like to see whales. See whales we did. We were able to watch a group in a resting pattern and another group hunting.

This is one instance where photography truly fails to capture the coolness of the moment. We were able to see a couple whales stick their heads out of the water and a couple throw their tails in the air. It was an incredible experience to see these creatures in the wild.

THE FLOWERS

From now on, when I picture the Garden of Eden, it will look like Butchart Gardens. I'll let the pictures speak for themselves here.

I have never seen anything that rivals Butchart Gardens and I'm not sure I ever will.

Even as we were doing our respective king of the world impersonations on the ferry back to Port Angeles, Washington, we were sad to leave Victoria.

I will never forget Victoria.

Next stop: The Olympic Peninsula, where I saw Bigfoot when Chris was in the bathroom.

Vancouver

Welcome to the Canadian portion of our vacation, eh!

The day after our Seattle adventure, we headed north of the border. I don't know about Chris, but I was pretending I was a fugitive trying to slip over the border undetected. It must have showed because the rather stern Canadienne at the border gave us a small yellow piece of paper and ordered us into the customs building. When 20 minutes of sitting in hard plastic chairs and being stared down by border agents didn't crack us, they decided to let us go.

Onward and Northward!

For those of you who have never been to Canada, everything is slightly different. For instance, they are not quite sure how to spell the word "center".

Instead of dollar bills, they have a weird coin and they have an even weirder coin for a $2 denomination (loonies and toonies to we seasoned world travelers). I realized that the reason they do this is to make you look cheap if you're not generous with tips. 

They still have American icons, but they have given them a unique Canadian twist.

The most difficult part? All those km/h speed limit signs. I have no sense for metric measurements and the metric dial on our American rental car was super hard to see. That difficulty quickly resolved itself when I realized that all I had to do was multiply the number on the sign by 3/5 to get the mph. Easy as pie! Canadian apple pie, that is.

Vancouver was different than I had imagined. Although the population is similar to Denver, it somehow feels much more crowded. Maybe because of all the clueless American tourists.

The highlight of our visit to Vancouver was the stunning Stanley park. We had our first sea level run ever along the seawall there. It was AMAZING. I'm pretty sure I would be a lot better runner if I could have my own seawall. Alas, I must make my treadmill do and be consoled by the fact that at least I don't have to change in my car in order to run on it.

That day in Vancouver was full of firsts because it ended with a trip on a ferry. I tried to act cool, like it was the most natural thing in the world to drive a parking lot full of cars into the belly of a giant ship, but the act ended as we started to drive into the Spirit of Vancouver and I whipped out my camera to document the boarding process.

My cool image was totally shattered when I had to be king of the world on the bow of the ferry. I don't care. It was my first time on a ferry, my first time on the ocean (I'm pretty sure a strait counts), and my first time on a mode of public transport that has its own cafeteria and gift shop. The moment demanded embracing and embrace I did.

Our trip on the ferry ended in Sidney on Vancouver Island. Stay tuned for the next chapter of our Canadian adventure in Victoria.