The All-Encompassing Trip

Well, surely you know I lifted that heading from the fan-based radio phone-in show from Sirius' Pearl Jam radio...surely you know it.

February just sucked out loud.

I needed to get outta Dodge, and had a wonderfully complicit husband with which to do it. We even, in a magnanimous gesture, included the children.

Glenwood is just a little joy: you pass by it on your way to everywhere, and if you weren't going everywhere, you'd love to hunker down for a day or two. This time, we did.

Glenwood is high, high in the mountains, and boasts amazing vapor caves and natural-spring therapeutic pools, so folks like Doc Holliday were sent there to recoup from whatever it was he had - consumption? Sure.

We just went to stay in a Hampton Inn (at Ty's request, AND scored he Sunlight Mountain Suite), get in a little skiing, soak in those mega-hot pools, and just see something different. Like this: my kids? In a swimming pool? Unique, all the way around. Matt and the kiddies hit Sunlight Mountain Resort: a nice, family-friendly little place. I always bunk up in the lodge with a nice book. Or even a bad one. The preferred means of descent for little Evie. Gracie kicked so much tail at ski school that she spent the afternoon hanging out with Dad and the sibs... The Glenwood Hot Springs pool is just glorious...this is the 104-degree thereapeutic pool, which you can visit year-round, but it's a special guilty delight when it's 32 degrees out of the water.

Jimmah Time

Oh, dearest Jimmer...no commentary of our 2011 would be complete without mention of our favorite Cougar of all time. So here it is. Our mention of our favorite Cougar of all time. May the Gods continue to smile upon you and give us something to believe in, you staunch adherer to the Honor Code, you.

Wuv, Twue Wuv

Valentine's Day is a favorite 'round here...

Shane's classroom party was, well...not run by me. Which is perfectly fine, believe me. It was just a little lighter on pure junk and craziness than the other parties, which, again, is perfectly fine. I just subscribe to the school that they have 3 parties per year, and can't we cut 'em some slack? Feed them something besides grapes and cheese and crackers?

They were handed a worksheet asking them to sort their hearts and estimate how many they could stack in order to create a 3 in' in diameter square, and other such brainiac delights. I get that they're the 'smart' kids, but...no. It's perfectly fine. Shut up, Linda.

But I can't shut up. After all the fun of estimating lengths, they retreated to the rug for cards. Oh, it's lamentable. "Do you remember your 2nd grade Valenting party, Shane?" "Sure! We played cards."

Ty's 4th grade room had a breakfast, and as I was running between his and Eve's simultaneously scheduled soirees (don't ask), I missed a lot of the shenanigans, but apparently, Trevor coveted Ty's box.

I've run the ol' pick-up-the-hearts-with-chopsticks game many a time, and 4th grade always seems to be the perfect time to kick it out - Ty was disappointed he didn't clean up the competition, but those are life lessons I'm only too happy to impart in a holiday setting.

All of the evidence points toward my child eating a Twinkie at 9:30 a.m., and I swear that no one brought them in. It's a mystery.

Ty was a proud participant in the Student Countil candy-gram fundraiser, and each of the Crawford kids received them from the parental units - can't say we're not supportive! At times overtaxed and overextended, but never unsupportive.

Pucker up.

The delivery went smoothly, no complications.

Part of the kindergarten festivities involved the crafting of these chenille-stem bracelets - it was all about creating patterns. We also had them decorate cookies, the thicker the frosting, the better.

We then headed home for our annual reception of mylar balloons, chocoates and Gigi's cupcakes, which boast a good 2" of frosting, guaranteed to make any consumer violently ill. We can't wait to do it again.

The Lost Season

The good news is that our hard drive crashed, taking the many masterful courtside shots I had obtained of Ty's season as a Bison and Shane's season with the Sun Devils...and since that's the good news, I guess there's no bad news. Perhaps, if I'm very, very good and our family spends no extra money on fun for the next year or so, we can pony up the cash to recover those and many other fabulous photos that are permanently missing. A gal can dream, can't she? The only thing God didn't do to Job was give him a computer.

Let Your Hair Down

Gracie Lou turned 6 on December 27th...and didn't manage a party until February 5th, due, as ever, to a growing amount of swim meets and basketball games. She's such a good sport about postponing joy, and we hoped to stage an amazing effort at re-creating Rapunzel and all of the Tangled magic we could conjure. In mid-blizzard, a full guest list gathered in the Crawford living room to first wow us with their hair-styling abilities and compete for fabulous prizes! Here, Gracie labors with Ella's tresses in a most spectacular way.
Gracie scored this amazing t-shirt prize, thanks to Ella's stylistic masterpiece, seen below:

Check ME out.
Why the t-shirt prizes, you ask? Art was soon to follow, designed to closely mimic Rapunzel's time spent captive in the tower.

We had the gals create wanted posters, and then murals...I LOVE 6-year-old girls. They will paint until the cows come home. Or until the party time has completely run out. Daddy worried somewhat about increasing the party time by 1/2 hour more than we customarily offer for a six-year-old's party, but even had time to sneak the Jimmer game.

There was just enough time for feasting on confections such as the one pictured above, which looked a little somethin' like this...

And then we retired to ceremoniously rip apart boxes and bags and completely ignore the many homemade cards still tucked into Grace's bulletin board - those are the treasures you don't appreciate until MUCH, MUCH later.

Grace was so thrilled, but had these sage words to impart: "Mom, it's hard to have your own party. Everyone wants to play with YOU, and you can't choose because people will be left out." Welcome to greatness, Gracie Lou.

Although It's Been Said Many Times, Many Ways...

Merry Christmas...to you, gaggle of Crawford children.

From my perspective, it's always better to give than receive, and has been for some years now. But I'll say it right here and now, at the risk of being a horrible parent: the longer they can hold fast to the pure joy of receiving, the better. Who gets this excited over Cherry Sours in her Christmas stocking?
Or new underwear? That he opened in front of all the grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins, without even blushing?

Or these silly bands, soon to be absconded on a random coffee table, never again to be touched? But thoroughly cherished for those blessed few hours comprising Christmas Eve?

Eve is a classic giver, and not only picked out this Nerf basketball hoop for Ty on her Chrismas shopping trip with daddy (one of the season's highlights for each of them), she smothered him with this bear hug - how priceless is this moment for a mom, and how priceless for them? That they shop for each other, chose each other's gifts to open on Christmas Eve, that they're so grateful to each other? This is what you pray and work for, all day long, if you're in my shoes.

Ty outdid himself with the gift-giving - fashion design mannequin for Evie, fashion stencils for Gracie? Just watch him work that room!

This is a stereotypical Santa delivery, the crazy-expensive, coveted swim parka. All status, all the time.

This is the look of pure Christmas joy: he got the fishing pole he's been coveting since summer. It's hysterical to us that he has this deep passion - neither of us has ever shown the slightest interest in fishing, were born to parents who have never shown the slightest interest in fishing, who were probably born to parents who had never shown the slightest interst in fishing. But it moves his soul, baby. You might even say that a river runs through it.

More familial bonding. This time, over a batting helmet. It slays me, like a dragon.

Foodstuffs are a gal's best friend. Cherry sours and jerky. A dentist's nightmare.

Runner-up to Ty's fishing pole pic for capturing the spirit of the season...Grace has coveted this little remote-controlled puppy since Nickelodeon first introduced the commercials this last fall, and the Crawford grandparents made their darling angel's dreams come true. Did I mention that she pants and barks, incessantly? The dog, not Gracie.

And don't even think of flicking that "Off" switch.

Bass Pro Shops? Seriously? This is a Blog Entry?

No, really, I'm with you: ordinarily, if I were to stumble upon an entire blog post devoted to a family's visit to the nearest Bass Pro Shops, I'd cringe and scroll right past. I might even silently and even snidely grumble: "Did they do nothing else of importance in the month of December?"
But this holiday break, that glorious edifice beckoned on a cold, cold day, and we didn't emerge for nearly 4 hours. It was simply too good to be true. Taxidermy-treated bear, elk, moose, you name it, in addition to a 7-ft. tank of fish, rock wall, ATV and boat displays, weapons to handle, and a fantastic Santa's Village. I'm not kidding. Four hours. And I had to drag them out.

The fellas, wrestling. Should have warned you, I know the shock is stupefying.

The great wish of the young'uns hearts would be to procure an actual ATV. But just think of the insurance premiums - for the machinery and the medical bills.

Couldn't resist this shot. This is what home looked like at the turn of the last century. Precious. The view north from Wilcox Street. Or is it Perry? I can never tell them apart.

The major draw for the fellas was the RC cars - since every remote control device brought into the Crawford household is broken within minutes, I often forget the pure joy the boys experience.

Seriously. Look at those faces.

We wrapped up the afternoon with the climbing wall, of which Shane, naturally, made short work. Then we paid for our gingerbread sleigh kit, left the premises with many promises of a speedy return, and indulged in Cold Stone at Northfield Stapleton. Because we're on vacation, that's why.

Celebrate Me Home

The Sabbath before Christmas, and all through the house...mom's gotta get a shot before the progeny run upstairs, throw their Sunday finery hither and yon, and clamor back down to eat processed cheese food product and crackers while settling down before the big TV screen in the basement to watch those Broncs make a respectable showing: they started Tebow! A new era dawns! Ahem. Back to Christmas.
Mom has officially given up on gingerbread houses, so we tried our hands at sleighs this year...not nearly as time-consuming nor frustrating, which means, of course, that only one child cried when the royal icing couldn't hold the sides together sufficiently to sustain the child's full body weight when applied.

I LOVE Christmas break! We were at our leisure this lovely Sabbath Day - after the aforementioned Broncos game, we had all the time in the world to construct sleighs, eat a nondescript dinner, make cookies, and snuggle in front of yet another Harry Potter film. I've waited all year for TIME, and, by jingle, we got it!

How was it that the Outlets were not chock-full on the Monday before Christmas? Who cares? We enjoyed this mega tree...

severed a few limbs...

and saw the Big Man, all in a span of about 15 minutes, which was a rarity. I loved this particular embassador for North Pole generosity: after hearing Shane's request for more Legos, he pointedly asked if Shane wanted more Armos as well.

The gals and I headed up to Hudson Gardens in Littleton to take in the lighting spectacular, and our socks were appropriately knocked off! We've had such amazing weather this season, we only began to lose sensation in our fingers toward closing time.

Pretty tricked-out tea party design, I'm thinking.

We took in this beautiful willow, as well as another few acres of lighted gorgeousness from the seat of...

a one-horse open sleigh! Smokey was much admired by my ladies, and we really loved when he came to a dead stop on the trail in front of his trailer: when it's 9 p.m. and you've pulled Denverites around all day, it's just time to pack it in, you know?