Vista Point

My girls love visiting family so it’s not a farfetched idea for us to pack up spontaneously and drive the six plus hours to Los Angeles or Orange County to visit grandparents, cousins, and friends. With over 36 relatives within 45 miles of each other, my girls are ready to go. Most people think we’re crazy to drive the 5 freeway because, to them, “there is nothing to see.”

But springtime delivered us a picture perfect drive and we found ourselves tuning into music that had us belting out show tunes, Dolly Parton, and a little bit of Hannah Montana. Even when we broke down to put in a movie, the girls couldn’t help being distracted by the vast fields with poppies that continued to bloom all the way up hills and mountains.

When the road did become flat and seemingly desolate we were given the quintessential meaning of springtime: babies! We saw calves and baby lambs running free, chasing each other, nursing and sometimes just nestled next to their mothers. It was amazing to see such playful life out on the land so many just drive by without stopping to take a look.

I realized that every few miles there was a sign reading “Vista Point”. I wondered how many people pulled off to take a look and I was grateful for the people who paved the road years ago and were thoughtful enough to realize this was land that should be viewed.

Most of us are more likely to pull off at one of the pop up convenience exits and grab a Happy Meal, fill up, and hit the road again. It’s ingrained in me since childhood that we stop for gas, and snack from the provisions packed.  With my two girls singing in the backseat munching on the goodies packed we decided a new tradition would be to pull to the top of a Vista Point and for once just stop to enjoy the view.

This Day Rocks!

Though spring is officially more than a month away, the early time change and a welcomed break in the rainy weather seemed to lighten everyone’s mood today. Even after a wrong turn and no Garmen to show me how to get home, I chose to just go with the road while my girls kept worrying out loud over our predicament. That is until we came upon the most incredible playground alongside a marsh we’d never explored.

With dog in tow we took the path for a while hoping to see some of the birds mentioned on the welcome sign. Accompanied by Mallards and Mud Hens in the water, with incredible shape-shifting marshmallow clouds above, we followed the meandering path until we reached the far end of the playground. The girls immediately raced to this incredible apparatus, worthy of an Outward Bound course, full of kids swinging and dangling trying to get to the center of what looked like a spider’s web. One child hollered out “Como estas hombres” and I laughed at Avery questioning if the three year old had just called her a boy.

Dropping to the ground, Callie dashed to a section of the playground that seemed to be calling her name. She was immediately joined by another girl and I smiled at her mother, also pondering the instant connection. The girls, undeterred by the language barrier, simultaneously started digging. Callie suddenly screamed and lifted up her arm; her hand clenched tight in a fist. She raced over to me and opened up her wet, sandy hands. “It’s the most beautiful rock in the world,” she exclaimed. Frankly, it looked like a snail that had been crushed and rolled in sand and I cautiously touched it hoping I was wrong. I was.

Callie sat with her rock marveling at the “specialness” of it. Setting it on my bag, she dashed back to her new friend and knelt down to resume scooping. I cleaned up the rock and the few more that Callie brought with pleas of keeping them all. I sat next to the family of rocks so thoughtfully lined up and smiled at what looked like my Pet Rock collection from a craze that took over the country when I was a child. How ironic: my younger self had stormed like so many other kids to the stores searching for the same treasures my daughter had just uncovered in the sand, and in the company of a new friend.

This great serendipitous moment was not lost on my girls who proclaimed: “this day rocked” as we walked the path back to the car where my phone sat blinking with a text message from my husband wondering if we had found our way home.

The Monkey Bars of Life

“I did it!” My almost five year old exclaimed. “I reached, and I reached and I finally did it.” It was a milestone; that miracle moment when she discovered that by letting go, she would actually move forward. A child swings back and forth on the Monkey Bars anticipating what’s to come while so many of us dangle,  hesitantly, wondering what we might miss by not holding on.

Now more than ever is the time to reach out for what you’ve always dreamed of doing. Reach for the opportunity that will help you achieve a goal you’ve always wanted to achieve. Holding on so you feel safe won’t stop you from falling; and falling into complacency is the greatest let down of all. Believe in yourself and reassess what matters. Family and friends, and a good walk in the great outdoors should land pretty high on your list.

Reaching for what you want and what matters is goals achieved, but for just a moment see the world through the eyes of a child and go swing on those Monkey Bars of life.

Puzzled By 2009

It started with a 36-piece then moved to a hundred and finally a thousand tiny little obscure shapes covered the table as we made our way through the holidays. The hallway to the girl’s bedroom was covered, a wonderful landscape became the front door Welcome mat and the girls keep going.

The idea of sitting around a table with friends and family to do a puzzle isn’t new but I certainly hadn’t seen it for a while. And when I brought one out after Thanksgiving dinner I got “puzzled” stares until both my father-in-law and step-mother helped rally everyone to the table. It was hours of political and social conversation, family memories and jest as my father-in-law persevered to get a piece in: “If you push hard enough, it will eventually fit” I believe is what my brother-in-law kept saying. It continued through the holidays and we’ve just stocked up for winter.

 I did a little research and discovered that the “cutting” of puzzles goes back to the 1760s when a London mapmaker glued a map of Europe to a piece of wood and sawed around the nations. The popularity grew and, in America, it was the great depression that took puzzles mainstream as it was the most economical form of entertainment.

So with 2009 upon us I say let go of complaining about the economy, eliminate the confusion for what’s to come, dismiss the notion that there are still “Jones’” out there to keep up with and celebrate what Norman Rockwell captured so eloquently in his illustration “Freedom from Want”. Family and friends are clearly the most important “goods” in our lives for 2009. And if you’re so inclined, it’s available as a 1000 piece puzzle.

I’m Thankful

I’m thankful for the day I spontaneously drove to the city to let a moth go because my daughter was afraid that it was going to be “sprayed.” We drove across the Golden Gate Bridge then played in the park till the fog rolled in; I can’t even remember what priority I let go of that day but we still talk about the moth we saved from the controversial spray scheduled for our neighborhood that year.

I’m thankful for the fly that came to dinner. Apparently he had suffered a broken wing and both my daughters had nursed him back to health only to have him escape from their room, leaving the ants still nibbling on the snacks they had put in the box for him. My husband was about to kill him at the table when they screamed out and confessed. The fly sat still hoping their efforts weren’t in vain. That Sunday night the table was full of laughter and everyone enjoyed a good meal.

And finally, I’m thankful for the Rainbow Fish, that famous children’s book about teaching friendship. The Rainbow Fish taught our four year old that anyone can give; it doesn’t take a checkbook to make a difference in someone’s life. When she wished that she too had scales to share, I mentioned that she could give her long hair as there are many kids who had lost their own to illness. My ten year-old, who frets over her long hair daily, immediately said let’s donate to “Locks of Love” so our hair could be made into wigs. The salon fit us in and everyone watched in shock and awe, wondering if we would go through with it. We did, and afterwards we put lip gloss on and ran around the center’s fountain tossing pennies with well wishes for the kids who would receive new wigs from our donation.

One of the greatest lessons in life is learning to celebrate what you have and then sharing what you have with others.  Happy Thanksgiving.