My Day

It was all I knew it would be and not what I expected.

I ate a pancake breakfast in bed and received sweet handmade cards from the kids. We went to church and to lunch at Red Robin. The server asked if all the kids were ours, and Sammy said “yeah, there are six of us!”

I said, “well, there are five kids…”

Aidan said, “We had another baby, but it died!”

How to reply to that? The server changed the subject, of course.

After lunch, we walked around a mall. Finding it boring, pointless, and too tempting, we left and it was up to me to decide what our next move would be.

The only thing I could think of was taking a trip up Lookout Mountain, which is exactly as the name suggests. It overlooks the expanse of the Denver metro area, far below. At the tip-top resides Buffalo Bill’s grave.

We paid tribute to Denver by looking down on it. The kids asked if we were taller than a T-Rex. Hubby helpfully illustrated our height by telling them they could spit on a T-Rex’s head! As a caring mother, I wouldn’t recommend spitting on anyone, especially a T-Rex.

We bought chocolate fudge and vanilla walnut fudge at the requisite western curio/tourist trap shop. It was there I saw this utterly authentic cowboy sign that must have hung in an outhouse near the OK Corral:

Hubby said it reminded him of me and I couldn’t agree more.

Joel adored the vanilla walnut fudge and screamed for more chunks in between sips of apple juice and Aidan’s Sprite. More on this later.

Finally, it was time to hike up the paved trail to Buffalo Bill’s gravesite. It is surrounded by black wrought iron, and the graves themselves are covered in white rocks. Ryley said “hey, this is in the Bible!”

Soon we headed back down the mountain. Joel was practically bouncing out of the Kelty carrier on hubby’s back—the sugar rush from fudge, juice, and soda had intoxicated him to the point he could whistle. The twists and turns on the drive home must have twisted and turned Joel’s tummy because the lifetime’s serving of sugar proved too much for him to take. The moment we pulled in the driveway all of it came back out in a spectacular display of toddler stomach power. It seems like any time we do something touristy, someone throws up.

I will test that theory the next time we tour Coors.

Mother’s Day isn’t over yet…hubby is making a homemade pizza. We may watch “Ocean’s Twelve” after the kids are in bed, if I can erect scaffolding strong enough to support my heavy eyelids. It was a good day, but more importantly, a good year as the mom of my little ones.