The Musher

In the spirit of the Iditarod, we went downtown this year as part of the Fur Rondy celebration and went on a dogsled ride. It was simply around an open field--but with all the recent exposure to dog mushing, David was more than thrilled. He instantly made friends with the dogs. And the 30 or so people standing in line with us were fast friends, too. That's what's so fun about David--you don't have to be standing next to him in line to make friends or be charmed by him. David keeps everyone laughing.

Like when he kept insisting on licking the snow. The entire group of people was trying to convince him to not do face plants into the yellow snow--particularly since we were surrounded by dogs. After his third attempt, I wouldn't let go of his hand while we waited the last 15 minutes or so before our turn. 

Before that last trick, David had fun finding the holes people had made with their boots when they were in the wide open spaces. The snow off the beaten path was loosely packed and very deep--so adults quickly sank to their knees or thighs if they attempted to cross the field. David found those holes to be the perfect place to use as a fort, and moved from hole to hole in the spirit of adventure. It kept him entertained for a good 30 minutes--which worked splendidly, since we waited a whole hour for our turn. And it kept the rest of us entertained watching him pop up and disappear like a little mole.

As our turn approached, I asked the college age guy directly behind us in line if he would please take our picture in the sled. He agreed, and he took a few good shots of us.

Then the musher yelled "gee" and "haw" and we were off! With my really nice camera in the hands of a complete stranger. I was uneasy as we got further and further away from my camera; but then I realized that even if this guy decided to try something fast, I knew the other people in line with us wouldn't let him get away with it. They had spent the last hour being charmed and entertained by David--and I was convinced that our camera was in good hands, between the whole crowd of David's new friends it would be well taken care of while we were busy dog mushing.

Can you see us in the distance?

And coming in to the home stretch.

I recently mentioned to a cousin how much I am enjoying the culture that Anchorage has to offer. She replied, "Oh, so they have a great orchestra?" "No. Yes. Well, maybe." 

What I really meant is that I enjoy the span of cultural experiences here in town--from dog sledding and ice sculptures to being with a room full of Irish last night to celebrate St. Patrick in song, prose, and dance to the Japanese drummers we hear each summer on the lawn of the library and the authentic Polynesian luau we look forward to attending next month. And yes, the Performing Arts Center usually has a pretty good schedule, too. I have recently said that if I could take the Anchorage community and place it closer to our extended family, I would never leave.

Except maybe the inordinate amounts of snow.

And the short summer months.

And the moose.

But everything else, I would keep it the very same.

Moose Hurdle and Why I am Thankful Today

Well, well, well. If you thought our last moose encounter was close, you will get excited about our moose encounter today. I'm laughing as I type this (and I've taken a few breaks, because I'm shaking as I relive it), but let me reassure you that I had about an hour of adrenalin recovery this morning after it happened. If I had caught it on video, we would be a you tube sensation right now.

The snow is so deep (we're about to reach the snowiest winter on record) that moose can't trudge through the snow drifts as in a more typical winter. So they are more likely to stick to the plowed roads, sidewalks and driveways as they move around town.  For this reason, there have been a lot more moose encounters this winter than normal.

We pulled up to the driveway of a friend, and I parked on the road. She lives on the hillside, and her driveway is quite sloped--and her snow banks are probably a little taller than they are at my house. I helped David out of the car, and let him run down the driveway while I gathered my things and locked the doors. Before I was finished, I heard David talking in a rather excited voice. So I went around the car to see what he was talking about.

It was a spooked moose, about 5 feet from David. I watched him take 2 steps toward David. Here is the sequence of events after that--all of it transpiring in about 60 seconds:

• I called David's name, then called it again in a shrill scream in my panic.  
• I realize that calling David's name will only cause David to run towards me, and that will cause the moose to charge David. So I stop calling his name.
• I consider running towards David to dive into a snow bank with him, but I quickly realize that would threaten the moose, cause him to charge, and David is in the moose's path--so that would put David in greater danger.
• I realize that I have been screaming at the top of my lungs ever since I've decided to stop calling his name. 
• The moose takes one more "running" step towards David.
• The moose rears up on his hind legs and kicks his front feet in the air over David's head.
• It's all slow motion, and I think--I better call 9-1-1 because we're going to have a serious head injury here.
• David stands perfectly still, looking at me--so at this point, I am less than 10 feet away and both the moose and David are facing me.
• The moose's hooves land within inches in front of David. 
• At this point, David is directly under the moose's belly. The moose's belly clears his head by about 3-4 inches.
• The moose jumps his back legs over David.
• Then the moose charges me. I move behind a snow bank, my lungs are still going strong in a scream, which I think is what scared the moose away.
• The moose turns off the driveway and runs down the street.

I felt silly knocking on my friend's door when I was such a wreck, and it took a good hour for me to really settle down from shaking. David was cool as a cucumber. I was the only one in hysterics. But he'll tell you that a scary moose "popped" over him. And he's animated while he uses his hands to show you how it all happened. If I ever meet a bear, I'm afraid I won't be too good at that whole "play dead" thing.

So I'm convinced that there was a legion of angels protecting David this morning--some were guiding the hooves to land perfectly in front of my boy, without clipping his head and knocking him to the ground, or worse yet, actually landing on him. Others were holding him perfectly still, because the margin of error was only within a few inches. And if David had darted for me, we would have a very different ending than just another exciting story to tell.

I'm so grateful for this reminder that Heavenly Father is aware of my family.

He has blessed us with protection this day.

Sometimes we ask friends to join us in praying for a particular blessing when we have a special need.

This time, I invite you to join us in thanking Heaven for David's safety.

It was nothing less than a miracle.

Fur Rondy

We were excited for Fur Rondy this year--and found a few ways to celebrate with the rest of the town in this wonderful cultural experience. In years gone by, this was the time of year the fur trappers would come to Anchorage to sell their furs. Now it's just a fun week, packed with activities over the course of 10 days. The last day of the celebration is the Iditarod start. (In recent years they combined the Fur Rondy and Iditarod celebrations to happen with a combined effort).

Where else does the city center close down for dog races?!?

We watched the Fur Rondy dog race--which is a sprint of just a few miles around town. These dogs were really running fast! It was a very different race from the ceremonial start to the Iditarod we've seen the last couple of years--that's more like a parade.

But Fur Rondy is the real deal. It's for the sport, not just for show.

It was cold outside--right around 10 degrees--but we were so grateful for that brilliant sunshine to keep us warm in its rays in spite of the cold. It really made all the difference in our ability to endure the cold. The shade was miserably cold, the sunshine was wonderful!

The race is such that every 2 minutes, another team leaves the start line. This year there were 25 teams. They race down town, around a small lagoon, then back to where they started. Each team is individually timed.

We stood next to a man and his snow plow, who happened to be part of the work force to create the trail throughout town. He explained to us that they build up the snow berms on either side of the trail, then clear it away after the race (this race is on city streets), then do it all again the next day--build up the snow berms, let the dogs race, then clear away the snow. Between the dog teams, David found plenty to do with the snow and hills we were around.

Then he went back over to wave at the racing dogs.

This year particularly, I have been grateful for our exposure to the culture of Anchorage with all of the dog mushing. More to come soon on the Iditarod ceremonial start.

Training

We have some good things going on at our house.
Like growing up things.

Such as potty training.

Now that David is potty training, he has a few more experiences in his belt.
Come to think of it, so do we.

David, with his truly independent spirit, is very much in control of his potty training efforts. If I try to assist him, I am met with "I need my privacy, Mom."
"Oh. Okay."
Then I back out of the bathroom and close the door.
And David fully utilizes his "privacy" time.
With things like inspecting the toilet tank. He opens the lid, fiddles with the hose that refills it, and when we find it spraying up at the lid instead of down into the tank, we understand why we have a puddle of water surrounding our toilet.
And we breathe a sigh of relief that it's not really a leaky toilet. It's just a misdirected hose. One that illustrates David's personality to a T--because if a boy with his curiosity learns how to use the toilet, you better believe he is going to figure out how every last part of it works. His interest in exploring--not just using--the bathroom has exponentially increased in the last few weeks. And when interest in our home loo started to wane, there's always plenty to figure out about public restrooms.

This litte boy hasn't had an accident yet while we have been running errands. Because his bathroom at home is old news to him by now, and he loves to see what the public bathrooms look like all across town. Our record was going to the bathroom seven times in 2 hours of errands. It was an experience that turned me brave.

One funny story is that on day #2 of potty training, David threw up for no good reason. He wasn't sick--but he lost his lunch.

Which has caused confusion in the signals his body is sending him.

We were in the produce section at Fred Myer's when he loudly announced, "Mom, I need to throw up." Really, he just needed to go potty--but he was still straightening out what the different signals meant that were coming from his body. This happened several times before I caught on that David simply had his lines crossed. I think we're doing better now and he knows the difference between the two.

So it's another bit of evidence that David is growing up.
And while he's at it, he's learning to dress himself.

And doing a really good job at it.

We're proud of you, little buddy!

Circle Lunches

I was only half way surprised when food became the center of our power struggles for a little bit. I knew we were in for the long haul when he ate minimal calories in an entire day--then repeated it for several days in a row. I kept waiting for his hunger from the previous day to catch up, but it just felt like he was digging his heels in. He repeatedly asked for mac and cheese for every meal. So that was a guaranteed melt-down every few hours. I'm not above the neon orange noodles from a blue box, but I couldn't stoop to serving it up day after day after day. When he started insisting it be made fresh each time--leftovers were not good enough for the growing boy--I drew the line.

And I thought long and hard about why he likes neon orange noodles for lunch. And dinner. And he'll wish upon a star to have them at breakfast. Certainly not because they taste cheesy--because that wears off as soon as the bowl full cools down. At room temperature, they taste buttery, not cheesy. And mushy. Bleh! After much deliberation, I decided that he likes them because they are fun. Wheels and spirals and smile noodles--all from a box. Fun.

So if you want fun, buddy, I've got fun.

We came home from errands, ready for lunch when the usual request started ringing out: I want mac 'n  cheese.

No mac 'n cheese today, buddy, but if you would find a really good hiding spot while I fix lunch, today we are going to have a circle lunch. 

A circle lunch? What is that?

Well you'll just have to go hide while I make it. Then you'll find out when it's ready.

So he hid.

And I put cut out sandwich circles, apples, peanuts, and cucumbers in a circle on a big cookie sheet.

He was absolutely thrilled. He ate every last bite. Then he wanted more sandwich, please. Which shocked me--because he has never eaten a sandwich without pulling it apart and licking off the good stuff then discarding the bread. 

Since that day, we have had "D" lunch, line lunch (see pics below), flower lunch, muffin tin lunch, sack lunch, "X" lunch, "3" lunch, poke lunch, oh the list goes on.

With that first circle lunch, I told him he had to eat it in order--because I could see him eating all the apples and discarding the rest. Quite frankly, he was so excited with such a huge tray in front of him with a big circle just waiting to be eaten, that he would have agreed to anything. So he did--he ate everything around the circle in order. And he's stuck with that ever since.

I'm happy because I can get a serving of veggies in, fruit, protein, etc--and now lunch is his main meal of the day where I feel like David gets the best balance.

Which frees dinner time up for more discussion and laughing, and less fretting over how many or how few calories have been consumed, so you must eat more bites before you get down from the table.

Which means less power struggle in our home.

It comes full circle--and everyone wins.

David shows off his line lunch--especially fun because it took up two whole trays!!

Sugar free

I left all the sugar-coating off of this post. Read on if you want, but be warned.
It's life as it really is at our house.

I'll admit it. We are at a stage of power struggles. I have to constantly re-evaluate and decide what battles are important to me and which ones I need to just let go. It's all about letting our little boy feel as much in control and involved in our activities as we can, but then remembering that he's only three. So some things are inherently not a good idea. 

Now add to that an extremely independent-spirited, persistent, stubborn, and curious boy, and inches quickly become miles in our world.

Like cooking. He pulls his chair up when I am in the kitchen, and tries to take a front row seat while I chop or stir or cook. Clearly there are limits--not a good idea to have fingers around knives or elbows close enough to bump hot pans. I have a small kitchen. With a dining room chair pulled up to the counter, it is tiny. I can't open the drawers, bottom cupboards or the refrigerator. I truly feel powerless to enforce any boundaries of where he can and can't be. If I am in the kitchen, he is there too. Nothing in the world is more exciting than being on top of whatever mom is doing in the kitchen. And that is where the power struggle is manifested. The point is that while we want to involve David as much as possible, it's also very hard to effectively do it.

Another example is yesterday at the grocery store. What better way to keep little hands from reaching for checkout-stand candy bars and gum than to ask for his help in putting the groceries on the conveyor belt? That was an inch. The help quickly faded, as he was trying to see what would happen if he could just get his fingers in that little crack where the conveyor belt disappeared. You know, the part that would cut them off if he succeeded? There was his mile. First I asked him sweetly to not touch. Then I explained that it could hurt his hand.  Then I firmly removed his hand; then I tried to hold it with mine and put on my "I mean business" voice. Then I moved the cart forward so he couldn't reach it, as I tried to act like nothing abnormal was happening at checkstand four. But the reality is that there is no good place for a 3-year old to be in a checkout lane when he feels slighted. And the entire store knew that he was being stopped from doing something that he deemed "helpful." They also knew that I was engaging in a power struggle with my three-year old. By the time I got me and my groceries and my shattered nerves and my tantrum-ing boy out to the car, I really had no feeling of any success. Except that David can still count to 10 with his socks on.

I'm sure there are mothers (maybe fathers--do dads read blogs?) reading this who are thinking of "why don't you just . . ." thoughts based on the skeletal facts I've just shared. And really, I'm always looking for new ideas. But please don't be surprised if I tell you that we've already tried that idea. We really want to nurture David's independence--because it's who he is, and it's here to stay no matter what we do. We really want him to hear "yes" and encouragement a lot more than he hears "no" or discouragement. We also really want him to show up at his 4th, 5th, 10th, 15th, and even 20th birthday parties with all of his fingers and toes. Without any major burns or scars would be even better.

Hockey Fans

Sam and I recently went to a hockey game with some friends of ours--they are occasionally offered tickets by season ticket holders and we were fortunate enough to be invited to be their seat mates. We learned a few things this time--I guess it's been a while since we've been to a game. Did you know that Alaska Aces fans throw fish heads onto the ice after the first goal is made? And you're not supposed to move around (like get out of your seat or come back into the arena) while the players are in action? You wait for some kind of transition point. Who knew that hockey crowds were governed by such polite manners? Oh, and when you ring a cowbell, you're not supposed to just shake it in your lap--because then it's too loud to the ears sitting directly in front of you. You have to raise it up or shake it to the side.The highlight of my evening was probably when they asked to see my ID as we passed through the "wet" section to get to our seats. Really? I look younger than 21? I'm flattered!!!

On our recent trip through the mall to reach the bowling alley, David was really taken with the boys and girls playing hockey. Some of these kids were no older than David--although they look quite a bit older with all of their gear and pads on. David thought it was great to watch them skate around and fall down. Maybe we'll have to take him skating soon. As for signing him up for hockey lessons? Mmmm. Probably not. Sam and I looked at each other and saw dollar signs with all of the hockey gear. It's got to be one of the most expensive sports with all of that equipment. And we're not die-hards enough to invest in gear quite like that.

 

As far as hockey goes, we're best as fans.