Orchestra at last

Kalina after her concert.
She was delighted by
the knowledge that 
everyone was going to
completely clash in their
Christmas outfits and
bright orange masks!

Ever since Kalina has been old enough to understand that music is different than other sounds we hear, she's reacted to it. First, but a super-smooth dance move I didn't see anywhere else. Then, by singing and humming, in tune. With great rhythm, no less. 

Although she's not one to just pick up and start playing of her own volition, with a couple nudges, and the occasional strong persuasion, she flourishes. Kalina began piano at nearly 5 and picked up on it quickly. She stopped wanting to practice a few weeks in, but, after the 3 or so years we've required of all our kiddos, she didn't push (too hard) to stop.

In her low moments we always reminded her that learning piano would help her with other instruments as well as develop her brain.

Then I heard about a highly reviewed homeschool orchestra program that I just knew Kalina would love. Right? She agreed that it might be a good idea to try, and when it finally gcame time for Kalina to bring home a rental viola, sure enough, she was able to dig right in. 

I'd taught her a few violin skills a while back, which she actually remembered. We also attended a class offered by the music store about the care and keeping of a violin. She's shown the utmost diligence in adhering to the guidelines--sometimes annoyingly so (putting the entire thing completely away just to make a quick trip to the bathroom mid-practice-session).

Kalina quickly learned a new clef, thanks to her masterful transposition skills, and gradually began to make the instrument sound tolerable, while I attempted to provide just the right amount of instruction to keep her going, but not so much that I overwhelmed or irritated her. Sometimes I succeeded. I promised her that although our schedule conflicted with homeschool orchestra at the time, she'd be able to sign up for it the next year (so, fall of 2020).

But with the good ear Kalina has for music, she knew her playing wasn't up to standards. Which made her want to try harder, right? Nope. She put on a brave face for a month or two, but then she was kinda ready to be done. And who can blame her, honestly? "I feel like I'm getting good at piano, but viola...?" She wasn't wrong--we all know something like learning an instrument is a long haul.

After the usual pep talk ("I know this is hard, but I really think you'll think it's worth it when you play in orchestra next year, and if not, you can quit, plus you're really sounding better all the time"), she'd begrudgingly pick up her instrument again.

Repeat every few weeks.

We inched along in the music book the music store had prescribed, with Kalina hesitant to forge ahead, and me walking the tightrope between patience and non-threatening nudges toward progress.

We did have a few highs: she found a few gems in the beginner book, including a round she could play endlessly with me on piano (unfortunately for her, I couldn't). She started to think of herself as a viola player.

But keeping the practice routine going was a chore for both of us. Finally, to save our sanity, I started giving Kalina a week off a month. She only reluctantly picked up her instrument at the end of that week, but at least found the arrangement somewhat fair and so didn't argue (much).

By early summer, Kalina was nearing the end of her music book, as well as her rope. I encouraged her to skip to the end, since the final pieces were more interesting and therefore more motivational. But also more intimidating. Lest I sound pushy, I'll take a moment to remind us all that Kalina was born with perfect pitch, perfect rhythm, and a strong appreciation for classical music. She's no slouch.

Unfortunately, the steam Kalina had been coasting on evaporated in the lazy summer heat. This time I could tell nothing was going to work: no refreshing breaks, or cool pieces, or pep talks. 

And if it hadn't been for the fact that orchestra would be starting in just 4 weeks, I think we would've handed in the instrument and pretended it never happened. But at least we would've stayed friends.

As it happened, not only was it finally, finally time to sign Kalina up for orchestra, but she'd need to perform a low-key audition just so the conductor could place her in the correct orchestra for her level. "Can she come tomorrow?" the conductor asked over the phone. Knowing my girl, I bought her an extra day or two to let her get used to the idea.

With her self-respect on the line, she practiced without needing an extra nudge. 

I knew the audition would be low-key, but what I didn't expect was that due to the fact that I try not to overuse air-conditioning, my temperature would be slightly elevated when we entered the store and I would have to wait outside. Fortunately, Kalina's was fine, so Naomi, Elise, and I killed time in the car and the conductor came outside to chat from a distance after they were finished, and let us peek into the large orchestra room while enumerating their covid precautions. 

And as often happens in life, but is by no means assured, Kalina's hard, if occasionally reluctant, work paid off! She was placed in the intermediate orchestra, and given a few tips on holding the bow. 

And my hard work, too, by the way. Because it's been real. And now I get to officially call myself a viola teacher, which is probably enough to make any actual viola teacher cringe.

Unfortunately, due to the fact that I wasn't able to enter the store, we'd have to return at a later time to fit Kalina for the next-size-up viola. 

At home, my temperature was perfectly normal--but the 20-minute round-trip drive meant I wasn't eager to return the same day. Still, I appreciated their caution, especially since we were going to be sending Kalina in for orchestra once a week.

When we arrived the next week to claim a larger viola, I blasted the air conditioning, and we were all admitted into the store. A viola was quickly found, and when Kalina played it her eyes lit up--the larger instrument meant a richer, mellower sound, plus shiny new rosin, and she was hooked, at least temporarily.

We celebrated with frozen yogurt at the nearby place, and the girls giggled at the fact that they weren't allowed up to the counter to pick out toppings ("No Children [and their grubby little hands and uncovered sneezes] At Toppings Station," a sign warned us). They had to call their topping choices out to me from 10 feet away, and then we all ate outside.

Practicing went better as Kalina enjoyed her new instrument and began digging into the first few exercises in the orchestra book she'd be using. The month or so left to wait before orchestra began, however, dragged on. But just as Kalina was again about ready to throw in the towel, I was able to remind her that orchestra was the next week...and then the next day. 

Nervous? Absolutely. But guardedly excited, Kalina responsibly packed up her instrument and music, forgetting nothing and eagerly headed out the door. 

Was I nervous? Thank you for asking! Actually, I felt as though my career as a mom hinged on this event. I'd taken the risk of nudging, urging, pushing, and pulling Kalina into orchestra--not without her acquiescence, but sometimes against her immediate desires (to go read instead). But the question remained: how well do I know my own child?!?

I walked Kalina to the door, and she bravely headed in. While I bravely headed back to the minivan.

The weather was beautiful and I'd left Naomi and Elise home with work-at-home Matt, a few short assignments, and a Magic Schoolbus DVD. The commute back and forth to orchestra class is significant enough that I didn't want to drive back and forth, so I spent my time at the park planning for my writing class and chatting with a new homeschooler (there are a lot of those nowadays).

I would imagine we've all guessed it: Kalina came out of orchestra ecstatic about her opportunity to play with a group. But also intimidated by the amount of music she'd need to learn by next week. We might have to pick up our pace--something deliberate Kalina has not encountered before, as she usually prefers to take her time and learn something 100% (and remember it pretty much forever) than rush through--and her piano teachers have always appreciated and accommodated that preference. 

This proved to be a stretching experience. But Kalina seemed to show up (mostly) prepared for each class, plus her skills improved greatly. Being a "caring" [read: nosy] mom, I asked her each time I picked her up if she was keeping up okay. In subtle ways, of course. It sounds as though although the cello section wasn't quite pulling it's weight all the time, Kalina probably was. Or she's old enough to do a great cover-up job when telling her mom about it.

Plus, she took it seriously enough that she was uncomfortable with the idea of going in unprepared. So although Kalina still doesn't relish practicing, the weekly class is enough to keep her going. I got to hear play-by-plays of the progress they were all making on the way home.

Naomi, Elise and I settled into a Thursday-morning routine of dropping Kalina off at orchestra, and then heading to the nearby park for nature study, drawing, science, poetry, literature, writing, PE, a little math--or whatever fit into the morning. Most of the time, the weather cooperated well enough, and either way, the van was warm. They LOVED this (except when we studied bugs--that was not Naomi's favorite) and although it took a little extra creativity and preparation on my part, I usually did, too. 

In this way, Thursday mornings were good for all of us--Kalina would come out of orchestra just glowing, and Elise and Naomi enjoyed a different type of learning, plus some sister bonding.

Kalina's on the right, hidden
by a music stand, and in direct
sunlight. But she's there!!!

We were so excited for Kalina's concert for two reasons: the first was that we'd actually get to see her play. The second was because two of us would get to attend in person, with careful covid precautions. Elise and I were the lucky two: Matt and Naomi would watch from home. Additionally, lots of family were able to watch from their own homes, which we think is just an awesome silver lining of this pandemic.

The playing was impressive, and it's clear the conductor was proud of the kids' work. Kalina played well and came out on a cloud of air: "I feel like I could play in orchestra for the rest of my life!" She's already counting the days until the next class, in mid-January. And practicing!

While we wait, we're enjoying playing Christmas music together (with me on piano) and Kalina's working on some new techniques. She's sounding great, too. I'm just so grateful she's found an activity she truly loves, and that the rest of us are enjoying as well!

Thankful for Thanksgiving!

Although Thanksgiving was different this covid year, we could at least recognize the holiday--and for that we're truly thankful. And to be honest, our outdoor Thanksgiving was seriously amazing!

Of course, Thanksgiving is really all about the attitude. Fortunately, our "trying-to-be-positive-no-matter-what-even-if-just-for-the-kids" mindset and our actual circumstances collided in pleasant ways, so that our regular dose of gratitude was only amplified by the uncertainty of it all.

[Note: kids really do have a way of bringing out the best in all of us, if only because if we so much as nudge the complaining train, it caravans into the next continent and no one has a good time for hours afterward.]

The girls did this without my
knowing. Pretty amazing!

Thanksgiving preparations started back in October, with a million little conversations initiated by, "What do you think we should do for Thanksgiving?" I may have spent as much time mulling over plans and possibilities as I did actually celebrating, but I'm accepting this as just part of the holiday this year. And I'm grateful that we were at least faced with real options to mull over. 

Ten days out, we began checking the long-term forecast daily, and this is when we realized that our best option--spending the day outdoors but doing most of our usual stuff--might actually happen. Usually, the forecast reverses itself as the day approaches, but this time it didn't.

I went ahead and purchased a 20-pound bird. (Partly hopeful thinking, and partly because I got a killer deal.)

A big part of our plans this year included a two-week mini-lockdown for everyone planning to attend, so we made our excuses for a few activities, found lots of good reasons for Matt to work from home, and began the process of getting our groceries via pickup, something we hadn't done since spring.

Of these, the shopping was the hardest task. Websites don't usually let you specify, "please choose pears that are mostly ripe, and definitely not rock-hard," or, "please don't tip the fresh pizza on its end." Bummer. And from what I hear, they're letting just anyone teach, nurse, and grocery shop nowadays, so our grocery cart occasionally needed a little in-person editing. But fortunately only a little.

And of course, we did our usual crafts, decorating, story-reading, and all the rest, so we barely missed going out in public. I'm pretty sure several of us would prefer to do all of our holidays this way. And life.

We prepared the girls that things would be a bit different, and they happily rolled with all the arrangements except the ones that included not seeing people they really wanted to see. "Is anyone coming?" they'd wonder, sometimes through a disappointed puppy lip and other times an exasperated eye roll. We made no promises, other than that there would be pie.

But we were able to assure them that Grandpa, Marianne, and Aunt Nancy were doing their very best, and that we were glad everyone else would be safe at home.

We counted the days, each one becoming more hopeful that this might actually happen. We even planned arrival times. That was big.

Cooking Day arrived, and the girls joyfully helped make a double batch of the cranberry sauce they love, as well as a couple desserts. Elise insisted that we were doing cooking class for school, while I was pretty sure we all had the day off. Naomi, the sweetheart, actually asked if we were going to do school on Thanksgiving. The part of me that didn't want to seize the opportunity ("Don't worry, only a little school and then you'll have the rest of the day off!") felt a bit ashamed that she'd even have to ask. At least we're instilling a work ethic.

And pretty soon we were doing all kinds of strange things like setting up the tent for Aunt Nancy, sewing Christmas face masks, collecting firewood and deciding which portion of the yard we'd eat our meal in. Text messages flew. We passed around a thermometer, and when everyone's temperature came out relatively normal (or a bit chilly, in Kalina's case), the countdown began. Aunt Nancy was on her way, and only harrowing holiday traffic and an evening stood between us and our holiday plans. She would arrive after midnight, unless she decided to stop somewhere.

We all felt like we were waiting for Santa--and we might as well have been, looking at the joy on everyone's faces.

I woke up all the time that night, each time wondering if there were a way I could peek out the window to see if her car was in the driveway without waking the cats. There wasn't. 

On Thanksgiving morning, the girls were dressed and out the door lightning fast after I mentioned that, "Aunt Nancy is going to want a fire in a few minutes." And just like that, Thanksgiving was here!

With all of the laughing, catching up, and general silliness. There was less snitcheting of food, and no showing everyone the various pets and all corners of the house (I was good with that). 

Since we were eating outside and downstairs from the kitchen, Kalina made a menu so people could check the boxes for their preferences. This was so fun I would almost do it in a non-Covid year.

Other than eating Thanksgiving dinner, our day consisted of several walks and lots of fire tending, plus masking up for our limited food prep (but at least we had Christmas masks!). And lots of traditions, like:

Takeaway Bingo! With Uncle Tom and Clarissa participating from afar, it was still a great chance to say hello (including to Uncle David, Aunt Debbie, and Kurt and Joy & family) and to keep some of the fun of the day. 

While we were hampered a bit being outside--balancing lots of things on our knees and trying to point a laptop--we muddled through and it seems as though everyone actually ended up with items they wanted. We had forgotten to bring scissors outside, but managed thanks to a potentially 1000+-year-old arrowhead I'd had on hand to be evaluated by Grandpa. Appreciate the help, native Kansan! Your tool has withstood the test of time--something my scissors might not do.

Pie came along with dark, and we noticed that in the encroaching darkness and chill, the party dwindled. Still, there was plenty of time for just chatting around the fire until the last holdouts (Nancy and I) literally did burn every last bit of firewood we could safely stick in the pit. 

The next day we enjoyed more firewood, a raucous game of burrito-throwing (don't worry, the burritos were fake and up to the challenge), and launching rockets into trees (and occasionally not into trees) before pulling out the leftovers.

Short and sweet, but still my favorite holiday. 

Crafty Naomi

Naomi whipped up
a pumpkin headband.
Pretty sure everyone
7 and under is going
to want one of these!

It's another typical day. An open glue bottle, a tape dispenser and a child-sized pair of purple scissors stand like islands in a lake of papers and drawings. Colored scraps scatter across the floor like leaves in early fall, and the occasional misplaced popsicle stick or pipe cleaner decorates a chair. Naomi is hard at work, creating Pinterest-worthy craft projects and not picking up after herself at all. 

It all takes me back to the moment Naomi discovered her hands. Most babies take weeks to learn that they own a pair of hands, but Naomi found hers on Day 3. She seemed to smile at the same time, which I would attribute to gas, but she sure seemed happy and there's photo evidence to prove it. (See this post: https://odegaardbaby.blogspot.com/2013/08/the-first-week-home.html)

Little Naomi doing her
thing.

I do think there are some things that hold true about a child from the very beginning, and this was one of Naomi's.

Because it didn't take long, relatively, for the baby to begin putting her hands to good use. Sometime in her second year of life, I believe, she perfected her pencil grip (I've seen 8-year-olds with much worse--none of mine, of course). Shortly after, she discovered tape, and we kept Amazon busy mailing us 8-packs to refill our dispenser for about the next 2-3 years. Everything needed tape, and lots of it--why use a little, when a lot is more fun? Besides, when Mommy is busy schooling the big sisters, tape seems like an awesome idea. Around this time she also decided scissors were a good idea, and paint, and soon she was off to the races creating.

But it hasn't been all rainbows and unicorns. Naomi's perfectionistic tendencies often get in the way of perfectly good art. In her dramatic 3s and 4s, upon creating a work she didn't entirely approve of, she'd:
1. Scream, cry, tantrum
2. Rip/crumple offending artwork
3. Shove it under the couch/into the trash as far as she could.

4. Ramp up and/or repeat if I tried to smooth things over.
Now that I look back, it was adorable. In the moment, especially if I had already been mentally planning a display for the artwork, which of course was always good enough for Mommy, not so much.

She still occasionally struggles with perfectionism, but fortunately her skills seem to align fairly well with her expectations most of the time. Unfortunately, the mini-meltdowns that ensue aren't much less explosive than they were a couple years ago, just less frequent. On the plus side, less-than-perfect artwork sometimes ends up in the recycle bin, albeit torn and crumpled. Or she allows me to "set it aside for a bit," and once, notably, hours later even took my suggestion for how to fix a drawing that was too close to the top of the paper for a unicorn horn to fit on the puppy. ("Why don't you just cut out a horn from some other paper and glue it on?") I'll say it again to emphasize the sheer novelty of the moment: she took my suggestion.

This girl couldn't
wait to dive in to
the bag of cotton
balls I brought home
for her!

Whenever I have free time, Naomi asks for a craft project to do. But not just any craft project: "A 3-D craft, Mommy." At which point, I'm expected to just whip out an idea for a charming little critter or object she can make out of the supplies we have on hand. 

Fortunately, she's super resourceful in coming up with ideas of her own accord, making sweet little creations that look like they came from a book. A while back Naomi made paper kites every day. Before that, she made animals out of paper cups and toilet paper tubes.  Nowadays it's pom-pom critters, rubber stamp stories, and stringed musical instruments (that Elise tuned to actually play a song!).

She's often inspired by the materials in front of her. Beyond Scotch tape, her first love, she's been excited by: paper plates, paper cups, popsicle sticks, pom-poms, pipe cleaners, googly eyes, toilet paper tubes, shoeboxes, popsicle sticks, cotton balls, string/cord/yarn, and any drawing materials. 

Naomi crafts on all occasions, but virtually always on the onset of a holiday or new season. She's tuned into the months of the year so she can break out new art inspirations. "Is it fall yet? How many more days?" For fall this year, so far, she's made a leaf pile, complete with a pipe cleaner/popsicle stick rake, a mini garland of leaves for her Calico Critters house, a squirrel in a tree, a couple pumpkins, pom-pom apples and pumpkins, decorations for the house, and many pictures, among other crafts. Most of these have been entirely her own design, but she's also happy to recycle old crafts, such as the cotton-ball igloo she remembered from 2 years ago and remade a few weeks ago. Along with a pom-pom seal to live in it and a cotton-ball iceberg. 

This creates the natural problem of what to do with:

1. The messes, on top of messes, on top of messes. 

2. The actual crafts.

Fortunately, Naomi is pretty decent at cleaning up after herself, when compelled. Naomi: "But Mom, didn't I already clean up this room today?" Me: "But you got everything out again." Naomi: *sigh* "I guess you're right." Nevertheless, even adults become stymied when looking at the table after she's finished a project (or 5). Matt has long since stopped trying to figure it out (I'm pretty sure it'd all end up in the trashcan if I pushed it), and I often have to step in just so the poor girl isn't overcome by her prolific crafting. Like, actually buried by it. 

As far as the actual crafts, Naomi used to count them all by name. "Mommy, remember that little puppy puffy I made a long time ago, and it was blue and pink?" Me: "Um.... kinda?" Naomi: "Where is it?" 😳

The best of Naomi's spring
crafts. Can you count the
bunnies?

So I'd keep them in a box out of the way for a loooong time, just to make sure we were really done playing with them. Because if you spend the time to make a family of puffball animals with coordinating googly eyes, you actually do want to get them out from time to time. The downside is that a reasonably sized box fills up in about a week. During particularly busy times, when I can't sort through the precious projects, a certain closet in the basement has come in reallly handy.

And after that, there's always the camera (see photo). By this time, Naomi really has forgotten, but that doesn't mean I have.... A photo makes parting with the sweetness easier, plus, of course, there's always room to save a few small/flat things.

Naomi has said she wants to consider being an art teacher when she grows up, and I could see that. For now, I'm just delighted to let her decorate the house, Naomi-style.

No time for lunch, gotta hike!

It was an epic family road-trip, no doubt. Ten days, eight national parks, and 3,300 miles. In a rental van, thank goodness. Here's how it went down:

Although our plans changed several times due to COVID-19 and wildfires (seriously, was there anywhere safe to travel?!?), we couldn't have been more excited for our giant national parks trip. 

I spent weeks prior finding hiking pants for the two girls would would consent to wear them; acquiring a super-nice, clearance-sale, REI broad-rimmed hat for myself; ordering national parks passports for the kids; preparing a few new things to do in the car; and printing of entrance passes, directions, VRBO instructions, and everything else we'd need for the trip. I also arranged pet/house care with detailed instructions, returned and renewed library books, cleaned, and completed all the tasks that would need to be done in the next two weeks. Which was a lot. I made sure Elise's birthday was mostly planned out/acquired since I'd have precious little time after we arrived home. And I did a lot of laundry. And cooked, because who knew what we'd get to eat on the road in the nearly deserted West?

In fact, the week before the trip, preparing for it felt like a full-time job, especially with a VRBO snafu that had us potentially having to leave a day early. Needless to say, by the time our vacation day arrived, I NEEDED A VACATION.

We rented a van for the trip, acquiring a super-low rate thanks to a new Costco membership. Matt thought it was a great idea to reduce the wear and tear on our van's transmission, which we really want to work for a while. I was sold purely on the idea that we'd begin with a clean car, and then return a dirty car. Bliss. It even still had that new-car smell!

But it didn't have a roof rack, so we we had to pack light, and we'd need to re-wear gently-worn clothes, and/or do a little laundry. I had the kids pack about 50/50 for cold/hot weather. I personally forgot to bring any long-sleeved shirts or warm pajamas Because that's how you roll when you're a mom--everyone else has what they need, and you have about 90%. More on this later.

We ended up taking the bulk of the day before our trip off of school because there's only so much one person can do, plus we started school way back in early August for this very reason. We left as soon as we could on a hot, sunny Friday morning, which was approximately a pathetic 9:10. But everyone was in such a good mood that we made it until past lunchtime with only the license plate game to keep us company--and I believe we'd found over half the states by that time. 

This was about when I realized I'd forgotten my camera. My really nice, special camera that Matt had spent several holidays purchasing cool features for as gifts for me. That would take amazing pictures, even far away. That I'd been looking forward to using on our big summer trip for 6+ months. That we couldn't go back and get. I would have to content myself with my 3 1/2-year-old iPhone and Kalina's Craigslist camera, that she couldn't remember whether it was charged, and didn't have the charger for, and may be full of pictures anyway. I needed a moment. But ended up super grateful later that Kalina at least had her camera, and was willing to share (as long as I carried it), and that we'd be seeing my brother and Clarissa, who had much better phones and an actual camera that we could use, and that we were on the trip at all. 

Elise wanted to see how long she could go without entertainment, but the rest of us didn't, so we put on an audio book--The Prince and the Pauper--despite her protests. To her credit, I fully believe she could've lasted all the way to Colorado on sheer determination, willpower, and a bit of spite .

[Actual Elise quote from the ride home 9 days later: "Who would want to drive this long without anything interesting to do?"]

Ironically, Elise was the one who initially enjoyed The Prince and the Pauper the most, and everyone else was doubtful (except me--I chose it). Since it's a masterful book, and we're studying the middle ages, we pushed on, and by the end of about the third chapter, everyone but Naomi was sold. To her credit, she tolerated, and even enjoyed, most of the book with very few complaints outside of the actual slightly disturbing bits that make it into any medieval period piece. And to Kalina's credit, she allowed her mind to be changed such that she truly loved the book by the end. As everyone should. 

We waited for mountains to come into view, and by late afternoon, we could see them through a little smoky haze. Soon enough, we were at Uncle Tom and Clarissa's place just outside of Denver, and gratefully sitting down to real food. This amounted to a lot of not-Mom's-cooking tastes for the girls, which Kalina and Elise reacted to by actually eating it (yes, we had a conversation about that in the car ahead of time) and Naomi reacted to by licking a grain of rice to be polite, crying tears of pure emotion when we suggested she eat it, and then gratefully downing the slice of bread we handed her without so much as butter or jam. 

Throwing bedtime to the wind, we headed out on a nice, long hike through the hills, squealing exuberantly about everything from a pond (we have those in Kansas) to cacti (not anywhere near where we live). The views were lovely, and the temperature actually cooled down, as though fall might ever happen. Naomi bravely pulled some cactus spines out of her sandaled toes, and then so did I shortly after. And back at home there was mochi ice cream--another new taste and texture that we all loved (even Naomi, who kind of gave up on figuring out the texture and just tried, rather adorably, to get anything into her mouth that she could...).

With the kids finally in bed, the grownups played childish video games, including a blast from the past called Bubble Bobble. We really wished Aunt Nancy were there.

Rocky Mountain National Park

The next morning, we arose bright and early (less bright and early for those of us used to the central time zone) to be able to use our entrance pass into Rocky Mountain National Park. This was the Saturday of Labor Day weekend, so we were extremely grateful that covid was limiting the number of visitors to the park. Even so, by the time we rolled in at about 8:30, a parking lot was full and we were many shuttle buses away from being able to reach our hiking destination. Fortunately, there were word games to play (this became a theme for our trip). 

Eventually, we hiked a beautiful trail, with three pristine lakes that everyone kinda wanted to wade in but no one felt quite like they could, except possibly Elise. (Elise, at the first lake: "This is a perfectly good lake, it's just not far away enough.") We did, however, greatly enjoy the rather audacious chipmunks, especially when we could nearly touch them, or actually touch them...if we were quick and brave and stubborn enough.... Only two of us succumbed to the temptation, but I only managed to barely brush a tail. The other one you can probably guess. We didn't learn until Zion that chipmunks' cousins, squirrels, are the most dangerous animals in the park. Not only did one take on a rattlesnake, but they are the cause of many injuries every year requiring stitches, and a significant number carry the plague. While attempting to touch chipmunks wasn't exactly sanctioned by Matt before that, the rule of "stop trying to touch the chipmunks!" was strictly enforced afterward. 

One of Kalina's favorite hikes:
the tundra at RMNP

After a picnic lunch, with more chipmunk friends, we drove up Trail Ridge Road a bit and pulled off on a tundra hike. The reactions were mixed. Elise charged ahead, and would have kept hiking indefinitely, if not wisely. Kalina was awed by the scenery, different plants, and elevated feel of the place, plus the sheer fact that we were on a tundra high in the mountains. She felt the weightiness of the matter. For her part, Naomi wanted to turn back. In the end, we reached to goal of a specific vista and felt okay making Elise turn back, especially when we noticed that...*gasp!*...we very likely would not arrive back at the visitor center before closing time and, in turn, would miss out on stamping our passports at the very first National Park we visited on the trip! FAIL! 

Even worse fail: having achieved the view, we directly turned our backs on it and high-tailed our way back down the trail, with Elise again charging ahead because she was as excited about her passport as about the actual park. To her credit, she's also only 9. So that's about right. A little more than an hour later we were in the car, careening down the mountain road, hoping the visitor center would stay open a few extra minutes. I weighed calling ahead. That's when we saw the elk, and it was decided for us by the driver that nature outweighed passports. We stopped and exited the car for a better view before finishing our trek to the visitor center about 10-15 minutes after the advertised closing time. 

We got our passports stamped!

So imagine my delight when I saw a tent, and a ranger, and a roll of stamp stickers awaiting us! The girls and I launched ourselves from the car and thanked the ranger profusely for "still being there." We took pictures--not only had we achieved an amazing hike, but we had our stickers! It's about then I realized the ranger seemed in no hurry to leave. Could the visitor center actually be open late on Labor Day Saturday? Naw....

It was a good thing we'd hurried, though, as our amazing spring roll dinner with crepes for dessert was quite far away. But totally worth the wait. 

Kids to bed. Must video-game.

Dinosaur footprints!

The next morning we headed to a site where dinosaur and crocodile footprints had been found, and dinosaur bones exposed. The coolest was the part where we saw the underside of dinosaur foot impressions, as the mud below had washed away. This was a long, hot walk, but the various prints were worth it, to most of us, anyway. Or me, at least. 

Incidentally, I'd searched out a few other sites throughout our travels where we'd be able to see dinosaur footprints, and the occasional petroglyph. The kids' response at my suggestion that we see more dino prints later in the trip? "But we already saw some. They were really cool, but I feel like we've done that." I personally could seek them out all day but I guess that's just me. Because there were, like, more than just one or two types of dinosaurs, right? Everyone else: box checked.

After dinos and a yummy lunch, we played a super-fun game before reluctantly saying goodbye and heading to the amazing state of Utah. And in some ways, this is where the scenery really began. We loved the areas of Colorado we saw, but they didn't quite compare to driving through a canyon. Or, actually, barreling through it as Matt scrambled to keep up with the insane speed of traffic. We gaped at the scenery the entire 6-hour drive, occasionally checking to make sure the kids were also looking. 

Our hotel was clear on the other end of the cute town of Moab, which we'll totally be exploring next time. By the time we arrived, both the day and Naomi were done: long days and unfamiliar surroundings were starting to wear on her. She just wanted her kitties and her own bed. Homesickness followed her for the next few days, but as we caught up on sleep a bit, and she got used to the routine, and acquired the occasional stuffed animal, she held it together and enjoyed herself. (But did her sisters enjoy sharing a bed with all those stuffies? Not so much....)

Canyonlands

First thing in the morning, we made our way to Canyonlands National Park, hoping to beat the crowds, and using Elise's 4th-grade National Parks pass for the first time (estimated savings: $240). There were none--one of the strangest things about touring the national parks was how some could be prohibitively packed and others truly tranquil. Although I hadn't had time to research parks much ahead of time, I did manage to use spotty Internet service to dredge up a couple hikes that should be good for kids.

And they were! In fact, our first hike was one of our trip favorites. We came upon startling views of canyons (go figure), climbed on rocks, and overheard another hiker talking about a rattlesnake he spotted. We pretended we were on Mars. A second hike was more crowded, but with equally amazing views--that is, if you like smoke. By early afternoon, wildfire smoke had settled rather thickly into place and reduced visibility throughout the park. Which would have been more of a bummer if it hadn't also allowed us to hike for 6 miles without  burning up in the sun.

We knew we needed groceries, and that we might want to make it to Arches for a preview later in the afternoon/evening, so we stuffed our cooler and a few additional bags at an overpriced store before crashing in the hotel for just long enough to take showers. A glance at the weather app showed a 40% chance of rain the following morning, so we microwaved some potatoes for an early dinner, which took, like, half an hour, and practically ran to Arches.

Which was also amazing, in its own way. And crowded still! It seemed, as we walked from scenic arch photo spot to scenic arch photo spot, that all we did was line up to take our picture, and then continue on. Fortunately, we also got in a lot of good climbing. And sand.

The girls climbed a 
large arch! They're
bigger than you think!

Sandstone was fun to climb on, but sand was only fun to walk in for Naomi, who adores sand, and has since she was a baby. "Why is the baby covered in sand?" I wondered the first time she was introduced, at about 10 months. Turns out, she still likes to wallow in sand, and even allow it into her shoes. She and Elise are opposite in that way, as we frequently heard during the trip.

We climbed arches until sunset, and were glad we did, as the next day dawned rainy and cold. Hoping it'd clear, and because we still hadn't had a look at the famous Delicate Arch, we packed up, bundled up, and made the drive into the park. Although the rain had cleared the smoke, it also washed out our chances for a good look at Delicate Arch. Of course, we threw on raincoats and made the short walk, but quickly turned back after our picture. We completed a scenic drive, as though we hadn't already spent enough time in the car. And then as we were leaving for Capitol Reef and points south, the clouds started to clear. We didn't, however, trust them enough to change our direction. 

Delicate Arch and 3
chilly, wet girls!

We enjoyed the scenery of the drive, despite the cold rain that seemed to follow us. We stopped at a gas station in Hanksville, a decrepit little town but with a gas station that's really trying hard. Apparently Hanksville is also home to a Mars research station, which makes sense with how alien the landscape felt at times. It's not home to much else, just like the dozens of other tiny towns we passed through that somehow were big enough to warrant a large mention on a highway road sign, but no businesses bigger than an odd gas station or miniscule diner. And not many of them, either.

A likely slightly creeped out Naomi, tired of barely understanding the Prince and the Pauper, and all its few grizzly scenes, and weary of foreign scenery, convinced us to put in Ribsy, which we alternated with P&P until we finished both. 

Capitol Reef State Park,
wearing most of our clothing
and still chilly.

Despite having spent several hours in the car already, it was actually a little bit hard to emerge from it at Capitol Reef. We were considering the park as a bit of an "extra," plus the weather was better suited for sipping a cup of hot cocoa by a window wearing jammies. But the hike we found followed a canyon, with lots of neat little caves to explore along the way, and rocks to find. My conscience wavered as I tossed away a very nice piece of petrified wood I'd found--but I just couldn't break park rules in front of my rules-following kids. Elise and Naomi passed the hike telling stories and pretending to be ocean animals (other hikers were sharks--a fact I hope they never became aware of) and Kalina chatted with Matt and I. After the hike, we checked out some petroglyphs. Elise was delighted by the bighorn sheep, and especially the one with the spiral tail. 

Kalina and I found
petrified wood and
such at Capitol Reef!

After stamping our passports and deciding against a stuffed puppet chipmunk, we pressed on, my heart slightly sinking as the temperature dropped. Our accommodations for the next two nights, which I'd booked in late July, were covered wagons at a campground. What's more, a nagging feeling reminded me I hadn't absolutely confirmed that we didn't need to have brought sleeping bags for everyone--although as the place billed itself as "glamping," I thought we'd be okay. As I watched tiny snowflakes drift from the sky, however, I knew that if we weren't okay, we'd be really not okay. 

You know how when you come out of the cold into a warm building, everything feels like it'll be okay? That's the feeling we didn't get as we opened the door to our covered wagon. I started both heaters and turned on the promised heated mattress pads. The temperature registered at 37 degrees, and that's where it pretty much stayed, despite the heaters' hard work.

Home-Sweet-Covered-Wagon
in Utah. Our rain jackets and
sweatshirts just weren't cutting
it.

Still, we were delighted by the property--in the middle of pines after long tree-scarce stretches in the car. The girls took a few laps and jumped on the trampoline until I had heated all of the cups of macaroni and cheese in the microwave (so, like, 15 minutes--and can I just say, I am not impressed with a microwave's ability to "speed up dinner?"). After another 10 minutes, Matt and I both had cups of hot chili. Which helped. A little. We also made smores out of the little smores packets the owners left for us. These included: individually wrapped Hershey chocolate, plastic-wrapped graham crackers, and 2 marshmallows hard enough to burn for fuel. Still, we figured we could soften them up in the microwave. And we could...some of them...kinda. Each marshmallow took about 3 times as long as usual, and still hardened up once it was added to the graham crackers. The cold air couldn't have helped.

It was then I heard the wind whistling and realized that, wow, we're really sleeping under canvas! There wasn't going to be much between us and that frigid air swirling around us. I thought back to when I'd stared hard at the coat closet, certain we couldn't possibly need winter coats in early September. Then I realized I hadn't even packed a long-sleeved shirt for myself. One day I'll get the hang of this whole packing thing; until them, I'm just going to have to remember that Kansas is just warmer than everywhere else. Except St. Louis and North Carolina.

As I'd read in the "welcome packet" about all the predators we could run into, I pulled Kalina and Elise aside and warned them not to go anywhere alone, and also not to let Naomi. They already knew how to make themselves look big in the event of a mountain lion or bear encounter, and I cautioned them to protect Naomi without letting her know what they were protecting her from. They understood, having lived with their little sisters' fears and worries for years now, and not wanting to make them worse in any way.

The detached bathroom was ever so slightly warmer, and soon we were bundled into our beds, heated, after some fiddling, by the mattress pads, and starting to thaw out a bit. In the middle of the night, I felt almost warm! We drifted off to the hum of the heater. 

The next morning, we awoke to ice on our front step. I insisted on hot showers for a few of us, which also helped--but barely enough. We moved very slowly, stumbling over what to have for breakfast, which should've been pancake mix that I was positive I'd packed, but couldn't locate. (It was at home in the pantry after all.) At any rate, we didn't make it to Zion until nearly 10 or 11 (I couldn't keep the time zones straight), which was late enough that we couldn't get a nearby parking spot, and we spent most of our time among crowds thanks to some really restrictive shuttle-bus rules. 

Zion NP

After about a mile of walking, we were at the beginning of our hike! This ended up being my favorite park, but least favorite park experience overall. We learned that we wouldn't be able to see most of the park unless we waited in a long shuttle-bus line at 3:00. We also learned that the chipmunks we'd been highly entertained by could be dangerous, as could squirrels, who could possibly carry the plague. And we hiked among the masses, who also didn't have shuttle-bus tickets.

Nevertheless, the hikes were amazing. The first was uphill to a lovely view (unfortunately, with a campground, road and parking lot at the bottom--but one could overlook those). We passed and were passed by many people at narrow ledges, but managed well enough. We also did much of the climbing in masks, since the trail was so congested. But fortunately, I'd stuck a deck of travel games into my pocket, and we enjoyed playing such games as "Personal Chef, " "Alias," and "Favorite Things" along the way. These ended up being a huge morale booster overall for when hikes got long or difficult, although after about the first day of our trip, I didn't hear any complaining. I did occasionally hear arguing over nuances in over games. But they were still fun. Actually, with my little deck of cards, enough water, and granola bars, we could probably traverse the country one day.

By the time we were finished hiking and back at the car, it was mid-afternoon. We ate lunch.

Arches, with smoke.

As a side note, our motto for the trip was: No time for lunch, gotta hike! As it happened, we did most of our exploring in the mornings, and our driving in the mid/late afternoons. This meant that we didn't want to stop and take a long break around noon most days. So granola bars became our elevensies, and lunch happened anywhere from 2-4. Dinner was around 7, and bedtime closer to 9. Not sure which time zone, as we seemed to use them interchangeably, and especially once we entered Arizona and technically gained another hour for less than a day.

After lunch in Zion, and a trip to the visitor center, we decided against the giant shuttle-bus line, even though we would have enjoyed seeing the rest of the park. Instead, we headed for a hike on our way out.

Naomi charged ahead
even on rocky, narrow
ledges. Not me.

This park took the cake as one of the very most beautiful we did--but also one of the most precarious. Fortunately, Matt took Naomi's hand and told stories down the trails so she was calm and sure-footed. Any other day, she worries about stairs sometimes (like the kind you can see through), but on this trail, she calmly trotted across bridges over canyons. Elise pushed the limits, but not too far, and Kalina and I carefully picked our way along. 

We made it to another beautiful overlook, and were admiring the view when the wind swept up and pulled my hat off my head, despite the cord that was looped around my neck holding it on. Our overlook was simply a large rock with no rail, so, despite the fact that the hat landed, temporarily, a few feet from the edge, I hesitated to lunge for it. Matt made a move, but it was too late--the hat sailed over the edge and disappeared down into either the trees or traffic that were below. Naomi cried and handed me her beloved hat to stuff into my backpack for safekeeping, bystanders watched to see what would happen, and I, with my momlike instincts, began to calm everyone down. "It's only a hat, no biggie!" I said for everyone to hear. "I'm glad no one went after it--it was too dangerous." I reassured the girls I could buy a new hat in the next gift shop if I wanted, and that at least I had a second hat in the car, that I also like. Inside, I was super bummed. That was a nice REI hat I got on clearance, and I actually liked it! The girls also mourned the hat: they had liked it as well. But there was nothing we could do except move on--literally, and figuratively. I kind of wanted off that windy perch right away, having seen my hat float over the side. What would be next?

And it turns out, I'll be reminded of the unsettling hat incident every time we travel now: the very site I lost my hat is pictured on the front of our atlas. 

Zion National Park

Onward! We hiked back to our car and drove back to the covered wagons for our second night there. We arrived in daylight, thank goodness, and Matt started a fire for hot dogs and smores (with marshmalllows from our own supply this time). Ten minutes later, our hosts were also lighting a large fire. Soon, we found ourselves invited to a singalong, along with the other family staying on the property (whose cousin, it turns out, created the board game, Trekking the National Parks). Naomi instantly made friends with the two other young girls, and our hosts passed out more bags of stale-marshmallow-smores. How rude would it be to open our own bag? Pretty rude, I guessed. The three young girls then did their own "show" after the regular music was over. 

We enjoyed the music and chatting with the family to see what kind of people own such a cool property. To Elise's consternation, the dad used to be a dentist. This fact was hard for her to reconcile, especially since she'd already mentioned that she could picture doing something like running a camping property someday. But clearly, there's no dental school in her future.

Somehow, this night was a little warmer, and not quite as painful.

The next day, we headed out to Bryce Canyon after a much quicker breakfast, just in case. I debated whether I should wear my one pair of hiking pants for a 3rd day. They were dusty, but truly the best thing for hiking. So, yes.

Bryce Canyon NP

Bryce Canyon

We enjoyed another set of stunning views and enchanting trails hiking among the hoodoos. We spotted castles, the queen and other people, and mini arches among the spikes The push to get up and out at the end of the hike was not as fun, especially for Naomi who started getting concerned about the heights we were achieving. I was right there with her by the end. We also hiked along the rim for another amazing view. This was another of my favorite parks, but words to describe it fall short. 

This park also held the excitement of actually selling a cute, reasonable stuffed chipmunk in its gift shop! So naturally, Naomi picked one up, now completely out of allowance money, but happy as a well-fed chipmunk.

We ate another 3:00 lunch before driving south to the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. We stopped on the way at Kalina's request at a rock shop, of which there were many. A quick Google search led me to one actually shaped kinda like a rock (on purpose) and serving ice cream. A cat greeted us at the door, so we knew we were in a good place.

We loved all the
passageways at
Bryce Canyon!

The girls perused, Naomi holding it together despite the fact that she was out of money, and the older girls making very modest purchases despite, like, 30 minutes of browsing a small shop. I found a rather perfect sandstone arch for the fireplace. The salesguy was helpful in many ways, explaining why we were seeing so many California license plates (yes, the fires and coronavirus restrictions, but also because every other rental car out of Las Vegas is licensed in California), and that the giant Styrosaurus "fossil" held up with tiny hooks in his shop was actually probably a movie prop. Then he gave the kids free ice cream for behaving so nicely. We ate it outside, with the cat, and felt a little at home. 

Our stop was fun, but we didn't cruise into our small, old, only-place-left-near-Grand-Canyon hotel until nearly 7:00 Utah time, which was 8:00 Kansas Time, and 6:00 Arizona time. We'd debated trying to catch the sunset at the Grand Canyon, but eyed the quickly sinking sun and realized we'd be too late to see anything but stars, which we could actually catch pretty well from the open field right next to our little duplex cabin. So instead we hung out in the not-super-exciting room catching up on showers and postcards and eating cheese and crackers for dinner. 

Matt holding "Thor's
Hammer" in Bryce
Canyon.

When the sky darkened, we stepped out to try to spot the Milky Way. Scared of the dark, Naomi begged to go inside every minute or so for about 10 minutes when, quite chilled, we gave in. But the stars really were amazing! We wished we had more time to see them properly, in a darker sky, but as virtually every night was either cloudy, smoky, or quite cold, we missed out this trip.

The next morning, knowing we'd have only a few hours at the Grand Canyon before needing to press on, we jetted out the door. We passed a coyote out hunting on the way, and were early enough arriving that we felt the need to keep our voices low. 

Naomi and I opted for the steady bench to study the canyon and play a game of I spy ("I spy something brown... Is it the canyon? I spy something green...is it that tree? How about that one?") while Elise dashed off toward a precarious (yet fenced) overlook and Matt followed for safety, and Kalina followed to see the scenery. 

The Grand Canyon!

Then we made time for three somewhat short hike/overlooks. The first challenged my notions of what constitutes a reasonable risk. Matt and Naomi, telling stories, were the ones to forge ahead this time while Kalina, Elise and I picked our way across ridges too narrow and steep for my comfort level and clinging to whatever we could. Naturally, the views were gorgeous and amazing, but the whole place made me nervous. Maybe I still hadn't shaken the image of my hat blowing off the top of a cliff at Zion NP.

We were bummed that nearly everything was closed, with no rangers present, so we were unable to stamp our passports here. If we'd had more time, we would have sought it out in the handful of buildings that were open, but not knowing whether or not the passport station existed anywhere reachable, we instead decided to see the actual site.

The second place we went was an overlook that featured sweeping views of the canyon. The previous view had felt, well, a little narrow for a canyon that's supposed to be grand. Beautiful, but more of an offshoot. I wanted the real thing. During the 15-minute drive, I spotted a bird that could have been a California Condor but was probably instead a turkey vulture. But the point here is that it could have been a California Condor and I'm not certain because I saw it for all of 1 second.

We enjoyed the overlook and almost as much fun was the fossil hunting! We found lots of sponges, along with some brachiopods and coral. Naomi and Elise made a pile for other hikers to find.

After this, we wanted a taste of what it's like to hike down into the canyon, so we drove to yet another spot and started down a mule trail. I'd pictured clinging to a cliff while a parade of mules passed us, but instead found a somewhat gentle slope, and only the occasional sign of a mule (if you know what I mean). We played the game "My Favorite Things", and turned around before we felt ready because of the steep climb up that we knew awaited us. Which actually wasn't too bad. Soon, we were having lunch at a somewhat reasonable time, just after noon, and then piling into the van to drive back to Colorado.

Along the way, we passed more astonishing scenery, and drove through part of the Navajo Reservation. We felt deeply for the people living there and their astounding lack of opportunity in a dry, brown land. Simultaneously, we were bummed we couldn't visit the Four Corners Monument, but we at least were able to see it as we drove by. As soon as we crossed into Colorado, and left the reservation, the land greened up and people clearly prospered. Huh.

Our stop that night was the equivalent of a Cliff bar on a long hike: just what we needed. A cute, new, squeaky-clean little AirBnB right next to a horse pasture charmed us all, except possibly for Matt, who had a bit of a headache. The girls discovered their own adorable loft area while I started water for pasta and what would feel like our first regular meal in days. I marveled at how much easier it was to get dinner, or do anything, really, when you're not in a covered wagon or cramped hotel room. 

The only bummer was that we didn't have longer to enjoy the lovely, clean, space, as the next morning, we were again up early to spend as much time as we could at Mesa Verde before we'd need to again hit the road.

Mesa Verde was a park that I was both eagerly anticipating and dreading. I couldn't wait to see the ruins, but I had also mentally prepared myself for the major disappointment of not being allowed inside the ruins and having to content myself with mediocre views. Was it even worth visiting at all?

Spoiler alert: it was! We were all delighted with how many ruins we could see, many of them fairly close. We would've loved to have taken a tour through them, but seeing as we only were able to spend 4-5 hours at the park, a tour would've cramped the rest of our visit. Which was awesome.

Elise, in particular, voiced her amazement at the ruins we saw, and the fact that people used to live in them. And Kalina was, as she always is, delighted with their beauty and their architecture. Naomi was just glad to keep up, and that she'd found a stuffed chipmunk. As she should be: not only have her hiking skills blossomed, but she really stuck it out for a chipmunk.

One of the coolest spots on our
hike in Mesa Verde.

As we poked along exclaiming over various ruins, we checked the time and noticed that if we really hurried, we could do what sounded like a fun hike out to see some petroglyphs. And once you mention a thing like that to Elise, you don't take it back very easily (plus we all kinda really wanted to), so soon we were switchbacking our way down into a ravine and passing all the other hikers on the trail.

It seemed crazy to try to "squeeze in" a 2.5-mile, moderate hike when our day was already packed, and we weren't exactly bored with what we were seeing. But we'd grown used to risks and adventures, and this seemed like a good one.

The petroglyphs at
Mesa Verde

We knew we had made a good choice when the trail required us to squeeze between, climb over, crawl up and duck under rocks everywhere. It felt a little like an obstacle course but in a shady, scenic, super-fun way. The kids were motivated by the sheer novelty of feeling just a bit like a pet mouse in a tube system (not that it took anything to motivate them) and Naomi and Elise told more stories as they traveled the trail.

Rushing the trail perhaps added to the adventure, and being in such good shape from so much hiking over the past week, we acted as a well-oiled machine, even in the section where we had to scramble up rocks using handholds and footholds carved into the sandstone (much like the people who used to call the area home did). We enjoyed the challenge and the petroglyphs, which we compared and contrasted with the others we'd seen, and finished in an hour and a half-ish.

We quickly prepped for another 6-hour drive, grabbed a couple souvenirs and passport stamps, and then, as the time showed around 2:00, threw together some lunch from the last of our reasonable (non-Oreo or granola bar) car stash, which we'd lived off of ever since leaving Tom and Clarissa's place.

Much to our delight, we drove straight into the our new favorite mountain range, the snow-capped San Juans we'd been eyeing in the distance. Even better: our route took us above the snow line. I nudged Matt into pulling off at some sort of pull-off, and the kids dashed into the snow in their shorts. We threw a few snowballs, made a mini snowman or two, and watched a fellow traveler fly a drone. 

Zion National Park

Then we were back on the road, heading for the biggest of the small towns we'd drive through on our route home, as it had a hotel. Dinner was yummy pizza that we ordered an hour early and picked up, hot and ready to go, as we passed by a small-town restaurant. They also sold mini fudge cups, and I found fun flavors for everyone. Then the sun began to set, and during the last, dark hour we counted nearly as many large deer as cars. Fortunately, we were enjoying the audiobook version of Cheaper By the Dozen by this point, which is lighthearted (most of the way through) and even had Matt laughing.

Still, by the time we arrived, which was later than we were hoping, Naomi was again missing kittens, overtired, and ready to be done. We fixed up our somewhat disappointing hotel room with all the stuffies, blankets, and pillows from home, and Naomi really did fall asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

The next day we loaded up on grab-and-go hotel breakfast, probably really annoying the attendant who had to keep grabbing different yogurt flavors for my girls, and hit the road, again as early as we could manage, as we were eager to see our kitties.

Elise was annoyed that
climbing wasn't
allowed.

Driving from tiny town to tiny town, we noticed that our route would nearly pass by Kansas' newest state park, Little Jerusalem. How could we not stop? The girls had been asking to go for the past couple months, and we kept our plan a surprise. Still, I couldn't help being wondering that they didn't seem to notice when we pulled onto a gravel road. 

We were all happy to be out of the car, and excited to see another natural wonder. Predictably, the site was cool...but no national park. Matt got a bigger kick out the grasshopper varieties, and the fact that cows were allowed to graze on the state park land. In all fairness, due to the fact that we really didn't want to spend a lot of time, we only walked the shorter trail. Glowing reviews exist about the longer one, so we probably missed out. 

During the afternoon, we enjoyed one last fun vacation stop, at Dairy Queen for a late "lunch" that we didn't even try to make healthy. We passed the time easily enough looking for Rhode Island license plates (the only one we didn't see!), playing with a few trip toys, and listening to our audio book. Easy peasy.

The kitties were as glad to see us as we were to see them. They were super clingy for the next few days, and to be honest, we were, too. Within a week, they had chilled out and probably would've been okay with a few less snuggles--but it's nice to know they missed us.

By the numbers:

Miles traveled: 3,300

National parks visited: 8

State parks visited: 1

Miles hiked: 30-ish

Items forgotten at home that would've been really nice to have: 4, mostly mine

Highest speed limit: 75 (thank goodness!)

Meltdowns: Maybe 3?

State license plates found: 49, plus DC and a couple from Canada

States visited: 5, including Kansas

Time zones visited: 3, including central

Meals eaten out of our cooler: 14

Hours of audio books listened to: ~17

Stops for ice cream: 2

Decent family selfies taken: 0

Minutes spent bored: 5

Canyonlands

Canyonlands

Canyonlands

Snacktime at Canyonlands

Elise forgot (or "forgot")
her hat, so she had to
borrow Matt's. Who
eventually borrowed 
Naomi's because of
all of Elise's fussing.

Zion NP

We couldn't take a good selfie
the entire trip. But here's one
anyway. Thank goodness for
fellow travelers who offered
to take our picture.

Canyonlands, with a lot of
smoke.

The girls enjoyed
making cairns. Because
rocks were everywhere.

Fortunately, Elise didn't
really want to get much
closer than this.

Square Tower House in
Mesa Verde