Merry Christmas to you ALL!
To check out a few of our adventures click here. Many more photos to come soon...
To check out a few of our adventures click here. Many more photos to come soon...
Monday, December 28, 2009
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
My Teenage Obsession Revived
I dug waaayyyy back in the deep dark depths of my closet today… the place where I keep those items that I just might need someday but haven’t touched in ten years…
Today I needed to find some once beloved and well used items that I knew better than rid myself of. I dusted off my old ski boots, squeezed into my snow pants from high school (I am so proud of that feat), discovered that the lining of my goggles had literally disintegrated into a fine black dust (I was horrified to count the years I have stored these items), donned an ancient pair of waterproof gloves, and eventually set out to hit the slopes for the first time in way, way too long…
My initial whim was aimed at learning to snowboard with Riley. But my absence on the mountain found me reminiscing about the days when I skied without fear, my focus intent on a perfect parallel, legs burning as I ground the edges of my skis deep into the snow, the wind at my face, the thrill of the ride, the simple euphoria that shrouded even a far from perfect run and found me always yearning for one more... one better, one harder, one perfect run.
Could I really find all that again after all these years? I had to try… I risked skipping way too many days in high school to now so easily turn my back on this teenage obsession and venture into the unknown territory of snow boarders.
Well, I did toy with all those pent up emotions, but… I also had no idea how I was going to teach Hope to snowboard if the only way I could make it down the mountain was sliding on my derriere.
My countless hours on the Mountain (yes, when I should have been in high school) paid off. Despite my defunct fixation with skiing in recent years the knack was easily resurrected and some seriously fond memories were revived the mere moment I arrived on the mountain once again today.
Riley went snowboarding… confirming my suspicion that I might just fail miserably on a snowboard. Riley has no fear of speed, he is conditioned to blows and he is determined to learn to board – he of course, had very little trouble getting down the mountain and he progressively got better – making it down three different runs without falling. The lifts were a whole other ball game… apparently it’s much more difficult to exit the lift on a snowboard.
He also successfully avoided my camera.
I secured Hope’s skis and sent her out on the bunny hill to test her level of fear. We were on the lift in a matter of minutes, Hope proclaiming her desire to find the boys and ski along side them.
On the lift I prepared Hope with instructions for getting off… scoot to the edge of the seat, remove your death grip from the pole, ski tips up and simply stand up when I tell you to…
Hope decided she didn’t want to get of the lift anymore but there was one little problem – we were already on the lift. I reassured her that it’s ok to fall when we get off and they will stop the lift for us if I wave my hand…
She cut me off and told me point blank that she was just too scared to jump that far down!
Hmmm… I guess I forgot to tell her about the part where we don’t get off until we reach the landing. Poor girl! She thought we were jumping. But her fear of jumping made the actual descent back onto the ground much more appealing and she scooted off and skied away like a little pro all day long.
Hope spent the first half of the day skiing down the hill between my legs. Then spent two runs going down by herself before she opted for poles and put many adults to shame shortly before we called it a day.
We already have plans to go again…
I’ve missed this mountain extravaganza and I've let a once dear obsession become something of only a vague memory recently – but I am back and I am thankful this mountain is too far away for Riley to spend his school days on a board :)
Today I needed to find some once beloved and well used items that I knew better than rid myself of. I dusted off my old ski boots, squeezed into my snow pants from high school (I am so proud of that feat), discovered that the lining of my goggles had literally disintegrated into a fine black dust (I was horrified to count the years I have stored these items), donned an ancient pair of waterproof gloves, and eventually set out to hit the slopes for the first time in way, way too long…
My initial whim was aimed at learning to snowboard with Riley. But my absence on the mountain found me reminiscing about the days when I skied without fear, my focus intent on a perfect parallel, legs burning as I ground the edges of my skis deep into the snow, the wind at my face, the thrill of the ride, the simple euphoria that shrouded even a far from perfect run and found me always yearning for one more... one better, one harder, one perfect run.
Could I really find all that again after all these years? I had to try… I risked skipping way too many days in high school to now so easily turn my back on this teenage obsession and venture into the unknown territory of snow boarders.
Well, I did toy with all those pent up emotions, but… I also had no idea how I was going to teach Hope to snowboard if the only way I could make it down the mountain was sliding on my derriere.
My countless hours on the Mountain (yes, when I should have been in high school) paid off. Despite my defunct fixation with skiing in recent years the knack was easily resurrected and some seriously fond memories were revived the mere moment I arrived on the mountain once again today.
Riley went snowboarding… confirming my suspicion that I might just fail miserably on a snowboard. Riley has no fear of speed, he is conditioned to blows and he is determined to learn to board – he of course, had very little trouble getting down the mountain and he progressively got better – making it down three different runs without falling. The lifts were a whole other ball game… apparently it’s much more difficult to exit the lift on a snowboard.
He also successfully avoided my camera.
I secured Hope’s skis and sent her out on the bunny hill to test her level of fear. We were on the lift in a matter of minutes, Hope proclaiming her desire to find the boys and ski along side them.
On the lift I prepared Hope with instructions for getting off… scoot to the edge of the seat, remove your death grip from the pole, ski tips up and simply stand up when I tell you to…
Hope decided she didn’t want to get of the lift anymore but there was one little problem – we were already on the lift. I reassured her that it’s ok to fall when we get off and they will stop the lift for us if I wave my hand…
She cut me off and told me point blank that she was just too scared to jump that far down!
Hmmm… I guess I forgot to tell her about the part where we don’t get off until we reach the landing. Poor girl! She thought we were jumping. But her fear of jumping made the actual descent back onto the ground much more appealing and she scooted off and skied away like a little pro all day long.
Hope spent the first half of the day skiing down the hill between my legs. Then spent two runs going down by herself before she opted for poles and put many adults to shame shortly before we called it a day.
We already have plans to go again…
I’ve missed this mountain extravaganza and I've let a once dear obsession become something of only a vague memory recently – but I am back and I am thankful this mountain is too far away for Riley to spend his school days on a board :)
Friday, December 11, 2009
No Chance
I had a favorite pair of underwear… a timeless classic that had served its duty well. They were pink, cotton and unbelievably comfortable (a rare find for those with a well rounded derrière).
They just so happen to say “NO CHANCE” across the buttocks, which I found hysterical and made them all that more enjoyable to wear…
Despite their perfect fit and highly amusing implications the days were numbered for this beloved pair of underwear.
No, they have not exactly reached their natural end of life – they are not starting to unravel.
My butt has not expanded… at least not that I’m undeniably aware of.
Hope learned how to read…
After countless questions as to the meaning of this message displayed across my behind (that I unsuccessfully dodged) Hope proclaimed her desire to obtain her own pair of “no chance” panties.
I can only imagine the countless teachers, day care workers, students, friends, parents, store clerks, etc. that now know I own this pair of underwear.
I’m currently trying to dissuade her from asking Santa for this particular gift.
Aren’t kids supposed to wait until first grade to read things like that??
Perhaps I should not have been prancing around in my underwear…
Either way, I must retire this old favorite and trust that this memory is deemed insignificant, easily forgotten and is not later readily recalled (to Hope’s horror) and reminisced about (to my utter dismay) 20 years down the road at a family gathering…
There is no chance of that happening, right?
They just so happen to say “NO CHANCE” across the buttocks, which I found hysterical and made them all that more enjoyable to wear…
Despite their perfect fit and highly amusing implications the days were numbered for this beloved pair of underwear.
No, they have not exactly reached their natural end of life – they are not starting to unravel.
My butt has not expanded… at least not that I’m undeniably aware of.
Hope learned how to read…
After countless questions as to the meaning of this message displayed across my behind (that I unsuccessfully dodged) Hope proclaimed her desire to obtain her own pair of “no chance” panties.
I can only imagine the countless teachers, day care workers, students, friends, parents, store clerks, etc. that now know I own this pair of underwear.
I’m currently trying to dissuade her from asking Santa for this particular gift.
Aren’t kids supposed to wait until first grade to read things like that??
Perhaps I should not have been prancing around in my underwear…
Either way, I must retire this old favorite and trust that this memory is deemed insignificant, easily forgotten and is not later readily recalled (to Hope’s horror) and reminisced about (to my utter dismay) 20 years down the road at a family gathering…
There is no chance of that happening, right?
Scooby Boobs and Rudolphs
We breed some pretty ingenious creatures around here...
Nico runs around the house and begs to watch "Scooby BOOBS" all day long. Roger swells with pride each time his youngest son pronounces his infatuation with boobs (even if he does really mean to say Scooby Doo).
Hope constantly demands we watch the latest gymnastic technique she has mastered - her "Rudolphs". I don't have the heart to tell her it's actually called a round-off.
How monotinous our days would be without Scooby Boobs and Rudolphs...
Nico runs around the house and begs to watch "Scooby BOOBS" all day long. Roger swells with pride each time his youngest son pronounces his infatuation with boobs (even if he does really mean to say Scooby Doo).
Hope constantly demands we watch the latest gymnastic technique she has mastered - her "Rudolphs". I don't have the heart to tell her it's actually called a round-off.
How monotinous our days would be without Scooby Boobs and Rudolphs...
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Bewildered Bragging
Perfectly pointed toes, fascinating flexibility, beautiful bridges, heavenly headstands and handstands, captivating cartwheels, brilliant balancing on the beam, and a gleaming gymnast may have rightfully earned Hope the title of Hot Shot but it’s also boosted her confidence (not that it was suffering to begin with) and strengthened her determination.
And she is clearly vocalizing her desires…
And she is clearly vocalizing her desires…
She vehemently refused to attend Tap/Jazz class this week, insisting she was bored, contending she was far too advanced and asserting her position by adamantly demanding she be placed in another advanced class. I watched her stroll confidently through the gym demonstrating her skills and relaying her demand to any teacher she could corner – all while I sat in the office digesting this news with the dance and gymnastic directors.
Despite all my pleading I simply could not convince her to stay in tap – even for one last day.
To my utter bewilderment I have learned that Hope is a bit of a super star at this academy. Teachers are vying for her to join their classes and they are willing to bend over backwards to keep this little girl happy and show off her talents.
It’s now almost a bit of a competition… Hope has been asked to join the elite. She will spend some time trying out a variety of classes to find what suits her best. Hope has the ultimate say and all ears are alert anxiously awaiting the news of her decision…
Hope is endearing, she’s full of spunk, she obviously has flair (perhaps she was switched at birth) and she certainly has a following of fans that want to see where she will take this forte. And her fan club is going to great lengths to keep her happy and recruit her talent.
To think I was beside myself with worry over transitioning Hope into the academy for after school care this year. Now I just worry where what she has up her sleeve next…
My Two Boys
Although these two boys entered this world over a decade apart I think they're awfully fond of each other...
Until Riley is asked to babysit... the bond begins to crumble, all the adorableness of a toddler fades as soon as the chore begins.
Until Riley is asked to babysit... the bond begins to crumble, all the adorableness of a toddler fades as soon as the chore begins.
Hard Labor, Hard Lessons and Finally Hardwoods
This, my friends, is a welcome sight – after many years of planning, certain carefully worded nagging, a few heartless threats, a lot of hard work, some generous help from a couple of faithful family members, particularly stressful, irritable days that we’ll never get back - our dining room hardwood floor has finally became a reality!
It was worth the wait… Nico finally has his own room and we have reclaimed our office within the last bit of space amongst our congested home.
With Grandma’s dining room furniture passed down for a new family to enjoy, it was finally time to rid ourselves of the last bit of original, decidedly dreary, dreadfully dingy, gray carpet.
Choosing pre-finished hardwoods was a strategic move. Remembering the long hours of labor required to meticulously install our family room floor left us dreading another project so arduous and hence found us repeatedly procrastinating and frequently tinkering with alternate, easier solutions, all the while simply delaying the inevitable.
My insistence prompted Roger to eventually agree to pre-finished hardwoods. More appealing than carpet and seemingly easier to install than unfinished hardwoods we felt confident in our selection – after all, we have two young children now and simply don’t have the time, money or patience to deal with all that comes with unfinished hardwoods. Pre-finished hardwoods clearly appeared to be the next best alternative.
The acquisition of the materials alone proved to be no easy task. I unsuccessfully bribed Nico with 32 suckers during the selection process of an overwhelming array of prefinished hardwoods. I ended up sitting in the car with a screaming two year not really giving a damn about what wood we ended up with and desperately wondering how we were going to survive the countless hours of installation.
But come hell or high water our undeniably dull and definitely dirty gray carpet was leaving once and for all. Very slowly we began to make some progress on the floor. The carpet was removed. The subfloor was replaced. The area was prepped with a moisture barrier. With only a few holes in the wall and a broken outlet the prep work was complete and the wood installation finally began.
Pre-finished hardwoods may reduce the dust and minimize the cost but their allure of easy installation is false advertising when two young children have deemed themselves as eager assistants. Despite my generous bribing which turned into stony threats and a few old fashioned screaming matches Hope and Nico refused to steer clear of the work area. The noisy nailer was simply too much of a curiosity and unfurnished wide open area proved to be too much of a temptation – they simply could not stay away. They claimed the unfinished room as their own rotunda coloring all over the moisture barrier to properly profess their ownership.
Feeling an overwhelming desire to utilize the air compressor to nail my children to the couch and keep them out of our way while working I sought relief from these unruly distractions and enlisted the help of my trusty sister Sarah. While tucking Hope in bed after a particularly grueling day she informed me that I managed to ruin her entire day. In my mature motherly way I retaliated that she successfully spoiled my less than productive day as well. Realizing I had no option but to finish the floor at this point but admitting my scare tactics to steer clear were unsuccessful and recognizing this project was bringing out a less than stellar side of me I admitted defeat and called Sarah to the rescue. Fearing that my children permanently impair my sanity Sarah offered to take the kids to McDonald’s Playland and with an extra pair of hands Warren, Roger and I were left to finish the floor.
This almost finished, albeit delightful floor, speaks to my persistence, Roger’s willingness to concede and compromise, hours of grueling work, the generosity and dependability of a sister and brother-in-law and the resilience of children (despite my brutal demands for compliant behavior during installation they appear to be no worse for the wear).
This is a room where we can finally delight in our perseverance – we have freed up our kitchen counter from endless piles of paper, we can file countless records in proper folders, we now organize mail in structured bins, we can print homework without searching for lost cords and rearranging printers and computers, and the littlest Gronke’s have plenty of room to roam freely, performing acrobatic stunts and emptying toy bins now devoid of tireless threats or unsettled bribes from stressed out, over committed parents.
In the end I have relinquished my duties and will not be making any more strategic pronouncements that involve laborious endeavors which require complete concentration and uninterrupted efforts until the littlest Gronke’s are much, much older. All future projects will be assessed, approved and prioritized based on our ability to outsource the labor!
It was worth the wait… Nico finally has his own room and we have reclaimed our office within the last bit of space amongst our congested home.With Grandma’s dining room furniture passed down for a new family to enjoy, it was finally time to rid ourselves of the last bit of original, decidedly dreary, dreadfully dingy, gray carpet.
Choosing pre-finished hardwoods was a strategic move. Remembering the long hours of labor required to meticulously install our family room floor left us dreading another project so arduous and hence found us repeatedly procrastinating and frequently tinkering with alternate, easier solutions, all the while simply delaying the inevitable.
My insistence prompted Roger to eventually agree to pre-finished hardwoods. More appealing than carpet and seemingly easier to install than unfinished hardwoods we felt confident in our selection – after all, we have two young children now and simply don’t have the time, money or patience to deal with all that comes with unfinished hardwoods. Pre-finished hardwoods clearly appeared to be the next best alternative.
The acquisition of the materials alone proved to be no easy task. I unsuccessfully bribed Nico with 32 suckers during the selection process of an overwhelming array of prefinished hardwoods. I ended up sitting in the car with a screaming two year not really giving a damn about what wood we ended up with and desperately wondering how we were going to survive the countless hours of installation.
But come hell or high water our undeniably dull and definitely dirty gray carpet was leaving once and for all. Very slowly we began to make some progress on the floor. The carpet was removed. The subfloor was replaced. The area was prepped with a moisture barrier. With only a few holes in the wall and a broken outlet the prep work was complete and the wood installation finally began.
Pre-finished hardwoods may reduce the dust and minimize the cost but their allure of easy installation is false advertising when two young children have deemed themselves as eager assistants. Despite my generous bribing which turned into stony threats and a few old fashioned screaming matches Hope and Nico refused to steer clear of the work area. The noisy nailer was simply too much of a curiosity and unfurnished wide open area proved to be too much of a temptation – they simply could not stay away. They claimed the unfinished room as their own rotunda coloring all over the moisture barrier to properly profess their ownership.
Feeling an overwhelming desire to utilize the air compressor to nail my children to the couch and keep them out of our way while working I sought relief from these unruly distractions and enlisted the help of my trusty sister Sarah. While tucking Hope in bed after a particularly grueling day she informed me that I managed to ruin her entire day. In my mature motherly way I retaliated that she successfully spoiled my less than productive day as well. Realizing I had no option but to finish the floor at this point but admitting my scare tactics to steer clear were unsuccessful and recognizing this project was bringing out a less than stellar side of me I admitted defeat and called Sarah to the rescue. Fearing that my children permanently impair my sanity Sarah offered to take the kids to McDonald’s Playland and with an extra pair of hands Warren, Roger and I were left to finish the floor.
This almost finished, albeit delightful floor, speaks to my persistence, Roger’s willingness to concede and compromise, hours of grueling work, the generosity and dependability of a sister and brother-in-law and the resilience of children (despite my brutal demands for compliant behavior during installation they appear to be no worse for the wear).
This is a room where we can finally delight in our perseverance – we have freed up our kitchen counter from endless piles of paper, we can file countless records in proper folders, we now organize mail in structured bins, we can print homework without searching for lost cords and rearranging printers and computers, and the littlest Gronke’s have plenty of room to roam freely, performing acrobatic stunts and emptying toy bins now devoid of tireless threats or unsettled bribes from stressed out, over committed parents.
In the end I have relinquished my duties and will not be making any more strategic pronouncements that involve laborious endeavors which require complete concentration and uninterrupted efforts until the littlest Gronke’s are much, much older. All future projects will be assessed, approved and prioritized based on our ability to outsource the labor!
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Hot Shot
Seeing as Hope spends most of her waking hours standing on her head, balancing effortlessly, performing unbelievable stunts (like the splits) in mid air and ultimately pushing herself up into a handstand it should come as no surprise that she has officially been invited to join the Hot Shots… an accelerate class for the youngest gymnasts who have displayed mind boggling skills and astounding progress in just a few short weeks.
Gaining entry into the Hot Shot club has only fueled Hope’s determination and has her bursting with pride.
But I understand her swollen ego. Under the false allusion that I had been deemed a Hot Girl I found myself exuding an inflated self esteem and feeling jubilant to have been deemed one of the elite.
Of course, my fantasy was brusquely episodic and I became a thirty something average Mom again reeling in my ignorance and despising my ordinary character.
But Hope has earned her Hot Shot title and although we question their choice in this selected label we are proud of our Baby Girl beyond what words can convey and we will allow her proudly taunt her title and demand a new level of respect for the time being.
How much harm can be done with this little confidence booster? (That’s a rhetorical question – please do not attempt to answer this for me…)
The time will inevitably arrive when Hope is humbled and we may regret our decision to allow her to become engrossed in her accomplishments but right now we are fascinated with her persistence, we are motivated by her determination and we found it bewildering (albeit hysterical) when, after being told by an 8 year old boy that she was so good at hip hop – the best he’s ever seen, she nonchalantly replied (while skipping out to the car), “I know!”
I may never be a Hot Girl but I can live vicariously through my Hot Shot.
Gaining entry into the Hot Shot club has only fueled Hope’s determination and has her bursting with pride.
But I understand her swollen ego. Under the false allusion that I had been deemed a Hot Girl I found myself exuding an inflated self esteem and feeling jubilant to have been deemed one of the elite.
Of course, my fantasy was brusquely episodic and I became a thirty something average Mom again reeling in my ignorance and despising my ordinary character.
But Hope has earned her Hot Shot title and although we question their choice in this selected label we are proud of our Baby Girl beyond what words can convey and we will allow her proudly taunt her title and demand a new level of respect for the time being.
How much harm can be done with this little confidence booster? (That’s a rhetorical question – please do not attempt to answer this for me…)
The time will inevitably arrive when Hope is humbled and we may regret our decision to allow her to become engrossed in her accomplishments but right now we are fascinated with her persistence, we are motivated by her determination and we found it bewildering (albeit hysterical) when, after being told by an 8 year old boy that she was so good at hip hop – the best he’s ever seen, she nonchalantly replied (while skipping out to the car), “I know!”
I may never be a Hot Girl but I can live vicariously through my Hot Shot.
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