The Garden of the Gods

Wednesday of Vacation Week we went to The Garden of the Gods. At least, I think it was Wednesday. Not that it matters. It doesn't. But it does nag at me...

I knew we would be going to Garden of the Gods, because every single person who found out we were going to Colorado Springs said, "Oh, you have to go to Garden of the Gods!"

But I never bothered to look it up. Why would I? I would see it soon enough.

But in my mind, I was envisioning some sort of lush...garden.

I should have looked it up. I would have seemed a lot smarter.

When we arrived, we stopped at the huge Visitors' Center so I could run in and grab some maps and general free info. Then we headed around the switchbacks.

And arrived at the Garden.

Ethan, his mother, and all the kids

Shoot. Now that I look at the pictures, I see that everyone is wearing the same thing they wore to the zoo. That means we must have gone to The Garden of the Gods on the same day that we went to the zoo. Which means we did NOT go on Wednesday.

This is why I blog.

Anyway, to get back to the Garden...it's a ROCK garden.

See how ignorant I can be?

I don't know if you can see it, but there's a little white dot on the big rock on the left. That's a climber.

Climber again.

"Forever free to the public"

I can't help but want to clean my camera lens when I look at these pictures. I don't know why that urge didn't strike when I was actually taking the pictures.

Probably because I was feeling inept at not knowing it was a rock garden. That ineptedness (ineptenacity?) translated to my photography skills.

Ah, well.

So on TUESDAY, we went to The Garden of the Gods, which is a ROCK GARDEN, and always make sure you have a CLEAN LENS when you start shooting pictures.

There. I feel so ept.

Next up: Pontoon Pirates!

Cheyenne Mountain Zoo

Tuesday we went to the Cheyenne Mountain Zoo. In order to get $2 off each ticket, I answered an online questionnaire about zookeeping. That thing was WAY too involved...I actually had to read the online zookeeping manual and ask Ethan multiple questions about the diet of a wombat and whether or not zookeepers play with their animals.

But after the questionnaire, wherein I learned enough to make me doubtful that this trip would be fun (because fun and educational ARE NOT THE SAME, says my 4th grade self), we headed past the Ladies' Open and up to the zoo.

I did retain one thing from the grueling quiz. Giraffes are a big deal at Cheyenne Mountain Zoo.

And that is true.

And here's what happens when you stand this close to a giraffe and turn your back on him. You get a giraffe hairdo (hairdon't?):

But there was more than just giraffes.

There was Suki, the Scary/Friendly/Dancing/Nurturing Bear, depending on what position you were in:

There were fish.

And many other animals, including a baby wombat they got to pet.

Then there was the Sky Ride to the top. Gideon and Salem and I chilled out by the grey wolf while the others rode to the top and back.

(Sorry this one is so blurry...)

The boys and Papa

The girls and Grandma

I was very impressed with the zoo layout and how accessible things were for even the youngest children.

We stopped at the slowest McD's in the world on the way home and got ready for the next day...Garden of the Gods.

Colorado Springs

We're back from our trip to Grandma's. Our three-day, 1500+ mile trip. The children were thrilled to get there, sad to leave, and anxious for Christmas when Grandma will be here.

For my own memory's sake, I'm going to post about each day there. But I do have several mountain loads of laundry, a filthy set of 4 car seats in line to be washed, and a van in need of a thorough cleaning. Then there's the chicken poop everywhere from a dozen chickens who decided the porches make excellent nesting areas. (Guess what, chickens? You have earned yourself a fence!!) And I suppose we should get the grocery shopping done as there is nothing here to eat.

So I'm going to be short and frequent in my posts about Colorado (that's the goal, anyway!):

First up: the Fourth of July Children's Parade in Monument:

Getting in line:

The pretty blonde holding my children's hand? That's their grandmother. I know, I know...

If you put our children into a group setting and ask them to do something that could possibly be perceived as, ahem, silly, this is what you get. These two are representative of the entire gang. They are "thrilled."

But while the Children's Parade was so embarrassing, the regular parade was lots of fun.

We went home, got a new battery for the van, and headed out the next day to Cheyenne Mountain Zoo.

We're not in Kansas anymore...oh, wait....yes, we are

Specifically, we're in Topeka. Which, if you say it lots of times in a row, sounds Asian, especially if you add a "Hi-yah!" at the end.

Oddly enough.

AND we're all in one suite AND the children are all sleeping AND it's the same price we paid for two rooms and a creaky door last night.

Today's drive was long and flat and mostly ugly. I know Indiana, Illinois, and Missouri are populated.

I just don't know why.

But now we're in Kansas. Did you know there are beautiful parts of Kansas? There are. And I'm not just saying that because I have a soft spot for the state my dad grew up in and my aunt stayed in. If we had to live in Kansas, we could live in Lawrence and just never think about the fact that we would be TWO DAYS away from the coast.

Never mind. We could never live in Kansas. We could live on the coast and drive through Kansas every 5 years or so.

But I must admit we are barely in Kansas. I might be singing a different tune tomorrow when 400 miles later we are still in Kansas. Right now I'm vacillating between "We're off to see the wizard" and "We represent the Lollipop Guild."

The Roadkill Highlight of the day was a dead coyote. It was kind of a toss-up between the coyote and a dog, collar intact, that was probably loved to pieces.

Or maybe that wasn't love. Maybe that was an 18-wheeler. I really can't say. I didn't see it happen.

I'd better get to bed. I feel all peppy because we gained an hour on the road. Time zones are funny things. But I have a feeling it's not going to feel so funny tomorrow morning when everyone is up at 6:00 thinking it's 7:00.

But tomorrow (!!!) ... there will be a change in terrain and, hopefully, an end to this journey.

Not Louisiana, Paris, France, New York, or Rome, but...

I don't even know what town we're in. I know it's not Gary, Indiana; Indianapolis, Indiana; or Taylors, Indiana. I only know it's not because those are the only Indiana towns I can think of, and it's not any of them. Actually, I'm only confident that one of those is even a real town. One of them might be just a song, and the other one might be misspelled (misspelt?).

It's the town where there's only a Motel 6, a McDonald's, a Kountry Kitchen, and a Thriftway grocery store. Do you know the one?

Nah, me neither.

But it's somewhere just over the border from Kentucky. That in and of itself is an accomplishment, as our goal was to reach Louisville (not LEWIS-ville nor even LOU-WEE-ville but LOWELL-ville thankyaverymuch) before we stopped for the night. But we reached Louisville and then just kept right on going until we hit...wherever we are. Let's just call it Vagueville.

The drive was pretty...lots of mountains and rolling hills and good ole farmland and flowers and rivers and mining towns and distilleries and even a dead mountain lion in the middle of the highway.

I know. That's so cool.

We left the house satisfyingly clean (that is, don't inspect the baseboards or open ANY closed doors, but you may admire the vacuum pattern in the sitting room) and the homebound animals in capable hands.

The children were far better than we anticipated. We listened to a really great dramatic recording (which surprised me...I'm usually not one for dramatic retellings -- just ask any tattler in our house) of The Magician's Nephew, part of the entire Narnia series that Ethan picked up thrifting.

Then came the part I've been dreading for days (maybe even weeks?). The hotel. You know, the hotel used to be my favorite part of traveling. Now it's my least. Eight children, two adults, and a dog is overwhelming. Of course we're not naive enough to announce we're eight children, two adults, and a dog; but even still, we usually have to get two hotel rooms. So tonight I'm sharing a room with two 16-mos. olds and three other girls, and Ethan has three of the boys and the dog. My room is a very "sensitive" room, as in don't-you-dare-step-on-that-grocery-bag-on-your-way-to-the-potty-or-the-babies-will-start-screaming-again. (So guess which room has the door that CREEEEEEEEEKKKKKKKKKKKKKKS every time you open it?)

Not that I'm complaining, mind you (which, of course, is what you say when you are, in fact, complaining).  The first set of rooms they gave us after Ethan said we needed two beds in each room was a set with one queen in each. Um, no. Let me cart the kids-n-dog back outside while you explain that we need two beds in each room, FOR REAL.

But things are calmer now. Everyone's bathed and almost dry after sharing four towels amongst eight children, and the half-hour of all-out-ear-shattering-screaming from a certain toddler who takes not-so-kindly to a play pen in a hotel room has subsided.

I love road trips.

I do, really.

I hate hotels, but I love road trips.

(And, apparently-from-the-looks-of-this-post, also dashes.)

First Day of Summer

It doesn't feel like the first day of summer. It feels like the ... 17th or 18th. Or maybe 28th or 29th. But not 1st. Not to me.

We sort of slid out of school. There was no "This is the last day of school!" or ice cream party or week of watching videos like there was when I was in school. We just sort of started dropping subjects, and then we woke up one day and spent the whole day not doing school. Shortly thereafter, one of my friends asked if I was going to continue school through the summer. "No," I said. "I mean, how can you with yard work and projects and all the stuff around the house that has to be done?"

And the very next day we did school. And life was a little bit easier, because the children were occupied and there was a semblance of order. And then I thought, "How can you NOT do school, with all of the things that have to be done and a need for order?"

Aren't I confusing?

Lately my house has been driving me crazy. The rabbit stinks, no matter how often you change his (her?) bedding, there are always crumbs on the floor (and I am up to mopping the kitchen floor daily, mind you), various pieces of laundry and swimsuits and Legos and books and shoes are always strewn everywhere.

Ethan came (again!) to my rescue last week. He marched into the girls' room and started boxing up toys. Some of them were thrown away, some were donated to thrift stores, and some were boxed for future use.  The girls were eager to help (albeit easily distracted) and thrilled that their room was made so easy to clean.

Then Ethan went with me to pick up an outside rabbit hutch (with enclosed run -- and this thing is CUTE!). So the rabbit is out of the house and happy. And I am thrilled.

And once again I reminded that less is more/less is more/less is more. I am always the one to fight it hardest, thinking that we're taking something away from the kids or getting rid of something we'll desperately need or ... I don't know ... throwing something valuable away.

We never are! We never are!

Not that things are hunky-dory, mind you. The yard is still a wreck, the flower garden is mostly large weeds, there is a large trash pile in the middle of the driveway waiting for us to borrow a truck to cart it away, and I'm not sure where to put all of the blankets that have recently taken over the upstairs hallway.

But! Little by little, things will get done. And then winter will come and give us a break from the yard work, and we will be pining for the long lazy days of summer.

Wait. Long lazy days? Who coined that phrase, anyway? Was he seven? And single?