Out of Body Experiences

Clouds on Fire
~ Rental Ready Response ~
on the way to town

I wanted children.

Why?

Got children and sometimes wondered.   Why, that is.  Or so I told myself when I walked the floor with a nap-resistant baby, patting, bouncing, and carefully laying them in the crib just a split second before they woke up crying.  Warm, soft, Mommy versus cold, hard bed - what is so hard to understand about that? So we tried the blanket trick where you wrap up the baby and it is all warm - no chilly surprises.  That didn't work either. By the way, why did I not hear from those other moms so eager for me to join their ranks about doing loads upon loads of laundry for the rest of my born days?

What is the best thing about having children?   Someone to surprise me over and over: smarter, funnier, more thoughtful, wiser than I could ever have imagined.  My two-year-old wanted to go to school, so he put his coat on upside down, and walked down the street to the end of the block across from the school.  Having arrived at his Rubicon, he sat down on the curb and cried.  When I finally noticed the house seemed too quiet, I looked out the window and watched a police officer driving slowly down our street.  One of the times I was especially aware of my heart walking around outside my body was when the patrol car stopped and the officer passed a diapered, bare legged child in boots with the hood of his navy blue coat hanging upside down behind his chubby little legs, to the waiting arms of his daddy before my horrified eyes.

Thankfully it was not terribly cold weather, but I am pretty sure that was one of the top ten world’s worst mother moments for me. Not only had I gotten so involved in my morning activity that I completely lost track of him but, being embarrassed, I totally missed my cue right there for a child ready and more than eager to learn. Okay, giving myself a break on that one.  He was only two.  Three years later I did a much better job on the first day of school.

What is the most difficult thing about having children? 1. Potty training. 2. Interruptions:  “Seriously?  You have to go potty now?  Right now?”  And dreading the answer but thankful for the warning ahead of time, but just not quite far enough ahead of time to find a rest stop, or the Home Depot restroom on the far end of the store.  May I suggest centrally located restrooms - of course they would get used more.  Anyway, it was worth a try, I guess – the warning, the panic, the mad dash to the ladies room, because occasionally we made it just in time.   Sometimes I chose to hand the kid off to Dad because I was just tired of being the mommy.   Two parent families are a good idea.

Now that I'm a grandma, being a mom has so much to do with remembering time went by as fast as a kid on a Hot Wheels bike.  While I was fairly bursting with joy and amazement, I could not talk about it because I sounded like a living, breathing Grandma's Brag Book bursting at the seams – not the worst thing about being a parent, maybe, just slightly uncomfortable and awkward when someone feels compelled to both roll their eyes and also one-up you.  “Here is my world, and I love it but I can’t share it.  Protocol.  Sorry.”  Here is some advice: Talk to grandma.  She will believe you.  But not too much because she will worry.

Maybe my kids are not smarter than any other kids, maybe they are smarter than some. It did not take too long to figure out that all mothers think their child is brighter and/or cuter, happier, funnier, stronger, bigger, braver, more petite, graceful, musical, well-adjusted, ambitious, you-name-it, than any other child, but I got to see the most delightful discoveries right when they happened.  I was the one who went searching for my good spoons, which had declined in quantity from twelve to six, in the sandbox and wondered what creation was so important that it required parts of my best table settings.  I was the one who cleaned the dried yellow drops on the bathroom wall.   “Seriously?  Is this swath of yellow droplets on the wall what I think it is?” I asked Daddy.  He knew exactly how it happened, and why.  (It seems this is not unusual, judging by his knowing nod when I pointed out the incriminating evidence.)   A wall redecorated in dried urine may be perplexing but a collection of dried boogers is simply disgusting, and more difficult to remove.  I suppose it never occurred to anyone to ask for a box of tissue.   And it never occurred to me that they had the snot scared out of them by the spiders and earwigs in the open ceiling joists and the poor condition of the walls.  Remodeling came along later, and that was a good thing.

I learned to love my kids out loud when we were alone.  I could admire them, honestly believing in their (mostly) superior character.  I did not really need to pretend that I was not delighted when it was in my job description to hang up a pile of tiny wet snowsuits and beneath them to line up pairs of miniature snow boots while pondering, and yelling about, the unsolved mysteries of missing mittens. Was I failing to teach them responsibility the moment they came in the door if I picked up after them?  I had no interest in saying anything that would dull the light in their shining eyes and rosy cheeks as they sniffled their way toward to a cup of cocoa while telling me a story.   I would like to think I got beyond pretending to be disgruntled that they came running when they got hurt doing something they had been warned not to do.  Nah.  Didn't happen.  Before they physically outgrew the tendency to come for the healing power of kissing and making it better, between bathroom breaks and tree climbing, between chores, responsibility training and power struggles, we were living the dream.

When I had to clean up a pitcher of red Kool-aid spilled smack-dab in the center of the green living room rug I had to admit that while such a feat was impressive in its aim, the carpet cleaner’s bleach was more impressive, a devastating direct hit, considering our carpet budget for the next ten years had just been spent a few months before.  Still, I was not-so-secretly proud of their joyous ambition when a morning spent setting up a lemonade stand and flagging down generous customers was worthy of detailed reporting at dinner-time.  When we went to the bank with the coins, we knew exactly how much the deposit would be.   I was becoming a teacher - painful process, sometimes - but I got better at it and learned to love my job, even though I forgot to check the backpack for a homework packet until they were headed out the door to school.  Who says school is the only place you can learn and only teachers teach?

Those days, while standing in the kitchen making more Kool-aid, my heart was out there on a street corner hoping for kind customers who would overlook the probability of a few germs while they ate flavored ice cones and drank too-sweet lemonade – and later when my heart went off to college, and then it came home again where for a few days my heart was just about as content as it could be.  And then it left again and went off doing who knows what; risking life and limb I suppose, never mind stepping on a crack and breaking Mother’s back.  Just try not to break her heart – it’s already walking around in three pieces, the whole being the sum of its parts, of course.

   

I “needed” permission to love my children out loud, gloriously; to glow with pride and joy over my pride and joy… so Young Mothers,  I would like to give you permission to love your children out loud, just in case you need it, and while I am at it, I’ll pass along a piece of advice I got.  Sleep when they sleep.  Do not try to get all your work done when they are napping.  Go nap with them. It is our version of “cobwebs be quiet and dust go to sleep.”  Was it there that I learned the trick of getting cooperation was doing the task with them?

Wonder full, special little human beings, are they not?  And in case you are wondering, yes, they are smarter than you, so get used to that feeling, and not just smarter, but fascinating and intelligent in ways different from you. They still need your guidance, although less and less if you’re doing it right.  They also need your acceptance and validation, however imperfect they are or you are - even if they refuse to eat the sandwiches you loved as a child.  There is something in them that is so amazing that it’s like a ringside seat on watching a plant grow – a miracle.

Sure, they will remember the meanest-mom-ever-moments and your ridiculous rules, especially the times they had to vacuum the car three times before it got approval and when you had no good reason not to agree to the plan to become a drummer in the marching band and but you (I) still refused to give in because it did not match, in my mind, her feminine and dainty, slender body type. She had two brothers, for Pete's sake, and could bike the jumps just as well as any of the neighborhood kids.

You will remember emergency room visits when you couldn't watch the stitches, first place medals and participation ribbons, neighborhood bullies, rare moments of sibling solidarity, getting outvoted on cutting down the climbing/crab-apple tree when no one liked cleaning up the apples in the fall, and when they stepped up to the plate all by themselves and hit a double header on a difficult assignment.  It is tough when they face the big battles and you know you can’t do it for them.  All the moments you failed as a parent flash before your eyes, so you know it’s up to them to deliver the goods.  You protected them sometimes, failed them miserably, rooted for them like any good soccer mom would, loved them always – it is your heart out there on the field taking a beating.  Those are the moments when you know you are the mom and always will be.

Kitty Nap - Labor Day

Lots of Peaches

Chia Seed Raspberry Jam

Jam servings sized for two ready for the freezer.
Also, not pictured: Heart Shaped Raspberry Banana Ice Cream

New Shed Doors Built and Installed

Not All Fun and Games
Spray-priming the rental deck

Seen in Passing

Last Day of Summer Canopy

Variegated Leaves

Yellow fluff tree at the LDS Church

Yellow on Blue

Sun Star 

Pun'kins

Shopping without a list.  What do you remember? Go!
1.  Milk
2. Wow, Price of bacon.
3. Do we need bread?
4.  Mayonnaise!  Score!

Peach Pie and not pictured:
 Cranberry Peach Tart, Peach filling, Fresh Frozen peaches for topping.

Fresh Tomatoes from the Fruit Stand for Pomodori Al Forno
forgot to turn off the oven

 Altitude Adjustment

Water doing what it does best -

flowing over rocks, making music, enchanting with sight and sound. 

10,623 foot Mount Langford, Absaroka Range, Sylvan Pass

Buffalo Bill Reservoir  Moon Juggling
Photo credit Pat Wiener 

     
     What a Day in the Park Will Do

We headed for the hills like Butch Cassidy and the Hole in the Wall Gang.  Filling up the tank of the F350 was highway robbery but we knew it would be worth it. Our hope was so bright that the darkness of the tunnels seemed a confusing aberration.  Released into the light, that innocuous physical  barrier magically carried us from care and responsibility to living art.  We had been transported from the frustration of self-imposed limitations to expansive views, majestic mountains and the soothing sound of water, the refreshing smell of pine, the compelling call of the wild.  We had enough horsepower to pollute the pristine skies of both the Northfork and half of Yellowstone National Park, but there was no stopping us. Like infamous desperadoes, we were hightailing it across the prairie to meet the veritable "sundance kid" of our renewed selves.

Our first stop was an easy choice - the  moonlight softly sparkled across a stretch of water, bathing the scene with enough beauty to stop a bank robber in full flight.  Breathing fresh mountain air with every scenic mile that enchanted our gaze, we stopped, we drove, stopped again.

The day was spent with a good friend, a simple picnic in a big rig while watching a small herd of buffalo seek thirst-quenching, fresh water - and there were lessons: adjusting my camera settings and the many colors you can see in the junipers and quakies; the effects of changing light, bark with shadowed, textured, trunks - and conversation that won't make this weeks' local Seen and Heard column.

Like any decent photo critic knows, good focus is essential. Decisiveness prompts motion, action, follow-through.  Sometimes we just get stuck in our own heads, stuck at the point of a simple decision: what to do next or how to fit another new task into our life.  Uncertainty robs us of serenity as surely as an outlaw knows when it's time to get out of Dodge.   All the advice in the world, even love and support from our best friend doesn't seem to help very much when we don't make up our own minds.

  

Waiting for a miracle, we forget we are a miracle.  It's up to us - all up to us - to decide whether to fit the bread-maker into the kitchen cupboard or into our schedule, or to read another blog about someone else who got motivated and lived to tell the tale. We decide to go about clearing a path through a busy, chaotic life, choosing to get a head start on a pile of overwhelming paperwork, or spend our time worrying about what might go wrong while we are busy feeling sorry for our self.

Nelson Mandela said, "May your choices reflect your hopes, not your fears." Surprisingly, the key word in that statement is "your" - because it's very simple...you and me...we decide. How we respond to our perception of the scenario as it plays out before our eyes has much to do with what we see and what we believe about ourselves and our potential.  If we nurse a sense of powerlessness we will soon be fleeing our responsibilities like a gang of outlaws with a posse of justifiably angry bank-depositers behind them.   

We create power when we believe we have or can find the knowledge, fortitude, and ambition to tackle the next obstacle; to figure out a way around it, over it, through it.  We diminish our power supply when we choose avoidance and the burden of regret.  The final decision to be where we are, after all, is completely up to us and that needs to be acknowledged.  From that place and with that honesty we make our next move - discouraged and negative or hopeful and motivated.

We choose to be victimized by circumstance, offended by our spouse, annoyed with the weather, disappointed in how we were raised, and generally angry about the results of our own choices.  We justify a heightened sense of unfairness when we should have checked the results of our like-minded friends before we bought their version. Someone else always seems to find a way to thrive.  Their life appears lovely, unlike ours, but in reality maybe they're just better at being happy - maybe they have better information, are more decisive.   They learn, grow, move on - believing that mistakes will be made but can be fixed.  Don't blame the process for the disappointment when the project hasn't yet been completed.

Take responsibility and choose to finish or start over.  Choose to learn - the critics have something to teach us. For every excuse we have, there's a highly challenged victor to inspire us: a child prodigy, a deaf composer, a physically challenged athlete, a once starving artist, a successful business that started with a shoestring budget and an obscure idea.  In short, someone has done more with less. Shall we then give up and let someone shine who has less to work with than we do?  Shame.  Shame on me.

  

Composition lesson from my friend, Pat.

Bison Brunch

The Driver, the Rig, the Moment.

          Overlooking Lake                                  Yellowstone 

Last stood at this spot when my sister was about to
turn 12 years old.  I felt as entranced as my cute little sister had been.
I wonder what she saw.

Highly Polished Vintage Yellowstone Touring Bus
At Lower Falls Parking Lot.

Mammoth Hot Springs

Over and Over

Tourists gasp at first sight of Lower Falls
from Artist Point.

132' Tower Falls

The only disappointment was not getting close enough.

Bison With Their Young.

Following the leader along the buffalo trail.
 
Pat Weiner's Web Page:

www.wyomingwestranchgallery.com

Hasta la vista.

The clouds really performed in this uplifting view 
across the yellowing hills with quakies in the foreground.

Undine Falls  in Three Mesmerizing Levels.

Blanket Flower - Gaillardia
A Perennial 

Danger Sign - Bull Elk at Mammoth Hot Springs 

Hostile and Invasive Hot Mineral Fountain. 

Looking Back on Dawn

Shadows Galore in Northfork Sunrise

Focused: A Few Square Feet of Wilderness

Just Plain Pretty

Lesson - Colors of the Trees when they are in the light,
when in shadow, and abundant clouds without flat bottoms.

When Mother Nature Chills

Bluest of blue sky with lingering bits of cotton fluff.
All shades of green from almost black to bright lime.
Blackish trunks, and sunlit ones.
That vivid splotch of an orange deciduous tree on the right.
Random lime to yellowing leaves, dry grass.
Contrast of texture:
 Smooth highway to velvety forest edges. Clear sky to misty clouds.

"The Bubbler" Water Spout @MammothHotSprings

Rustic Falls

We Were Warned - September Snowstorm

Filigree Park Bench Sports Fluffy White Coat

Summer Iris September Stylin' Winter Cap

The (colorful) Kayak Lesson

entertainment factor

We rafted the Shoshone River 12 miles with our inflatable kayaks and canoe in two and a quarter hours on Friday - and came back smiling, so decided to do the North Fork on Saturday. 

Putting on the "skirt".

I don't think humans are meant to be looked at when we're buying pants. 

Ricky Gervais

discomfort and a jerry-rigged camera

Snugging it up - Check.

Handle out for wet exit - Check.

quick lesson, quick learner

The sun appeared and disappeared by turns.  It got hot.  I took my jacket off.  It started to sprinkle so I put it back on with my hood up. The reservoir water was surprisingly warm - good thing, because thanks to pulling in the kayak and emptying it,  I was soaked right through my yoga pants and tights up to my waist. Mostly I watched.  Although I remembered clearly the one important instruction that the head comes up last,  I made few suggestions since I hadn't actually done this before. We had all watched the videos more than once. 

"Your head came up first".  Heads, it seems are heavy and throw us off balance.  They also prefer to be out of the water, preferably immediately.  This doesn't help. 

After a lot of very "wet exits", and several attempts to roll - hip flip practice, hands and arms method sans paddle, Jerry went to the pickup to warm up.  They had tried rolling with helmets and without helmets, using arms and hands, thinking through it step by step.  It all appears simple until you are upside down making a wet exit after flailing and failing. 

Insisting I didn't need to wade into the water to assist as his dad had done, Duane instructed me on how to use turn on the Go-Pro, rowed out to deeper water, took his paddle and with my limited knowledge, followed my paddle instructions to execute his first three or four C to C rolls. 

Jerry, shivering in the heated vehicle, missed seeing the first successful barrel roll, but he did see our hands in the air as we shouted in celebration.  Not to be outdone, Jerry came out, switched boats with Duane and tried the paddle method, too.  Success!   Exciting!

And that's all we had time for - warmed up all our cold parts in the shower, gathered and packed paraphernalia, headed to Billings, had dinner at the Brew Pub, dropped Duane off at the airport.  Flight on time, came straight home. 
****

The best advice I've ever received is, 

"No one else knows what they're doing either."

Ricky Gervais