Last in the Rat Race

Sunday was our unofficial Art Adventure Day.

Kate and I started off by “finding” the last of the three lions of University City. In celebration of our ‘burb’s 100th birthday, nine artists painted lion statues which the city subsequently placed around town. Some time last month, there was a scavenger hunt for those interested in discovering the locations first. We missed that boat entirely, but have had a good time discovering them in our own time. (more)

Next on the adventure trail: bunnies.

While STL likes to trumpet about new developments, few ever deliver to your expectations.

This one blew us away.

The Citygarden sculpture park is beautifully designed, totally walkable, scenic and – this is the most amazing part – user friendly. Not only are you – adults, kids, dogs – invited to stroll along and touch the pieces, you can actually climb on, in and through much of the installations.

For kids, it’s an amazing way to experience art. Seeing, touching, hearing… The stuff begs to be played with.

For us, the only downside was the prevalence of pooches that day. I spent half of the morning racing after Kate as she asked the 100th person if she could pet their puppy. Finally, when confronted by a baby Rat Terrier (dear god, there couldn’t be anything cuter on the planet!), she lost her mind and tried to pick it up and carry it around. The owner was trying to intervene, as was I, so we finally had to just pick up and leave – as in I had to pick Kate up and physically carry her off, out of the park. (Our family is not known for graceful exits.)

The sculpture park left such a good impression that the only way I got Kate to calm down was to promise to go out to another park…

While I hadn’t been to Laumeier Sculpture Park since high school, I remembered it fondly and thought I could find our way there.

We stopped for gas and a snack (all the while the guy from “Food Inc.” reminding me to never buy food where you buy gas). With the abundance of crappy choices, each one more decadent and fattening, Kate walked out with a Special K protein bar – chocolate and peanut butter. How funny is that? “Candy bar?” she asks. “Well, ok…”

On to Laumeier.

After spending the morning entranced by the Citygarden, I was understandably let down. For each sculpture on this 150 acre property, there were at least two signs per piece reminding visitors: “do not touch the sculpture” and “do not climb on the sculpture”.

It was still lovely – with plenty of room to run.

But the no-touching thing bugged us. And we just couldn’t stand it at the end…

When I was a kid, my parents always seemed to find a house for us that was somewhat on the edge of wilderness. Wilderness for a kid anyway. There would be a small stretch of woods behind our backyard that usually involved (1) a ravine, (2) a creek, and (3) abundant wildlife. It’s the perfect adventure mix.

In the winter, god help us, my brother and I would sled down the trails to the bottom of the ravine – dodging (hopefully) trees along the way and crashing before we ended up in the icy creek at the bottom.

In the summer, I would creekwalk. The creek in the ravine couldn’t have been more than 10 feet wide and six inches deep, but it was all I needed to spend the day wandering up and down, over rocks and under branches. Frogs, snails, fish, and my dog kept me company. (My dad, in all of his good intentions, warned us about water moccasins, and to this day, I’m still irrationally terrified of snakes.) Sometimes, I’d pack a lunch. Sometimes, I’d pack a friend. The creekwalks were summer.

This past weekend, MRA was off to golf early again, leaving the household stirred and largely awake by 6:30. (what ever happened to sleeping in on the weekends?) Looking at the list of chores I had set out for the next three hours before the pool opened, I got a little angry, a little depressed and then remembered my promise to take Kate hiking more this summer. We popped online and scouted out a spot.

Living in the city is fantastic. LOVE it.

The one drawback – the country is a long haul away.

An eternity later, Kate, Paddi, and I ended up at Castlewood State Park. I used to haunt the place on my mountain bike pre-Kate. There are trails running flat along the Meremac River and trails that seem to go straight down mountains. (did one of those once and about peed my pants… rode my brakes the entire way down and vowed to never do that again)

We walked and hiked. There is a little beach at one point in the river and I crushed Kate’s dreams when I told her to stay out of the water. It’s a RIVER and kids have drowned there. ugh…

So, we headed back to the creek I had noticed on our drive into the park. Shallow and crystal clear, it would be perfect for her to wade in.

For Paddi and Kate, I think it was love at first sight. Paddi could swim in some spots and Kate could wander around without me hovering over her, holding her hand, keeping her from drowning in the FIVE inches of water.

It was pretty fantastic and brought back those memories of creekwalking.

“When I was a little girl, I’d tell my mom – your grandma – that I was going creekwalking. I’d be gone most of the day, wandering up and down the stream.”

Kate listened and then tried out the reminiscing thing for herself, “When I was a little girl, I used to go creekwalking, too.” Huh? Did I miss something here?

Circus Flora.

This is perhaps one of the coolest things about living in St. Louis.

Each year, in Grand Center, this one-ring circus pitches tent and sets up a show you’ll not believe could be contained in one little ring. Circus Flora, named for the elephant that once stole the show, is local, accessible, and worth giving birth for. If you don’t have one, go get a kid and taken him to the circus.

After dodging the big heads in front of us last year, I ponied up the extra $5 for front row. You could – literally – touch the performers if you were that brave. The horse acts, circling the ring with performers vaulting on and off, up and down, kicked sawdust up in your face. The clown’s “tears” reached far into the 5th row. You craned your neck to see the Pages on the flying trapeze, sure that they couldn’t, just couldn’t spin, flip and still catch one another. The Flying Wallendas – the tightwire act – didn’t use a net. (Are you kidding me?!) Even I had to cover my eyes and peek through my fingers for their act. World-class performers in our little tent.

Although the clown kinda wigged Kate out – can’t blame her one bit as I still don’t like clowns – she had a permagrin all the evening. She couldn’t stay seated – she’d stand up, sit down, hide when the clown came too close, then pop back out to watch the St. Louis Arches – the tumbling act.

“I wanna do that some day!”

By the end, she was sold. She petted one of the performing dogs, high-fived a Wallenda, and marched out with a stuffed horse her dad bought for her.

Man, what a great family night.

Each summer, Mike’s siblings gather for a weekend together. No gifts, no agendas. Just time together with the sibs, their spouses and kids.

This year’s adventure destination: Woodward, Oklahoma. Hometown for all and still home to the senior sibling and her family. I know, I know… it’s no Enid, but we managed to find fun, nevertheless.

The weather was spectacular (while STL alternated between hellacious heat and downpours).
The food was plentiful (enough so that I found myself sincerely contemplating a P90X commercial yesterday).
The boys got in some golf. Shocking.
Everyone enjoyed the company.

Kate and her closest-in-age cousin were a riot. Six months apart, yet similarly assertive and stubborn. I thoroughly expected an explosion as they butted heads. Nothing. Hm. Didn’t know what to make of that…

We broke out the sprinkler at one point. Takes you back, doesn’t it?

(You can’t help but notice the huge gap in the suit bottoms. I hadn’t anticipated water fun this weekend – it is Oklahoma afterall – so we grabbed the only non-princess gear at the Wal-Mart Superstore, and she was set. Apparently, she’s not yet a 4-5…)

Last weekend, MRA and I traveled to the Hudson River Valley for a wedding. A dear friend of us both and golfing pal of Mike’s was marrying a woman from that part of the country. All of the golf guys and spouses were attending and actually serving as groomsmen. Accordingly, golf was scheduled. Twice.

We flew into NYC and drove north. Let me just state for the record that I was blown away.
1. I had no idea the drive would only take an hour.
2. That said, just an hour out of the city, you can easily find yourself in an amazing slice, no swath, of nature.

Who knew?

So, the boys were off to golf Friday morning and I was left, amazingly, alone. Dear god, what to do?!? No one calling me for marketing materials. No husband hounding me to pick up the dry cleaning. No child shouting “Mommy” every other minute. Whoa…

The bride had circulated a list of things to do/see while in the area and the Storm King Art Center sounded sufficiently intriguing. A recent article in the NY Times about Maya Lin’s “Wavefield” sealed the deal.

The hour drive even further north was lovely. Woods, streams, bluffs, and West Point along the way. Radio choices to shame STL. GPS to insure I wouldn’t get lost. (although the NeverLost gal did seem to get a little peeved when I tried to detour to Bear Mountain… after the 7th suggestion to make a “legal u-turn,” I quietly cursed the be-otch in the box and turned around – back on path to Storm King – i thanked her later).

Just as I arrived, friends from the wedding called to invite me to lunch at the Culinary Institute of America. Some of the best food in the country. Hm… no. Thanks, but no. I’ve found God’s country and I’m off to trek.

Parked, left cell in car, grabbed camera. Off. Hm… camera is not responding. WTF. First time traveling with it. Maybe it got bumped. Broken. ARGH!!! With directions into Cornwall and the nearest CVS, I found a new battery and success. (whew)

While I’m not a huge fan of sculpture – it’s usually pretty modern and stark for my liking – the juxtaposition of some of the pieces in this environment was pretty damn breath-taking.

While there was a tram that toured groups around the 500 acres, I had eaten enough crap for b’fast that the walk would do me good. Crossing fields, walking along streams, I felt like a kid again. Back to the “free range kid” notion – I was one and this brought it all back. (Man, I hope Kate can get a taste of this some day.) I saw wildflowers, geese with goslings, turtles, frogs, and the random group of school kids on field trips trying so hard to be cool that they totally missed this stuff. Mostly, I was alone. ALONE. I suppose I am an “I” on the old Meyer-Briggs scale after all.

I chatted with a volunteer at the wall, waiting for one of the school groups to pass. She was probably 70+ and very sweet. Funny. Asked if I knew anything about snakes. “Enough to stay away,” I said. In retrospect, her job would be a pretty nice gig for a couple of days a week.

In addition to the tram, there were paths through the fields. In addition to the paths, there were trails through the woods that surrounded the property. It was awesome. I heard water and followed one of the paths through the woods, down a hill. Although there was a little part of my brain screaming “BAD IDEA” it was easily ignored. Surely there aren’t too many mass murderers hiding in the woods at a sculpture park. (need to stop watching “Law & Order” and put James Patterson down for a while)

Here was the reward.

Wow. Cool water, warm sun, and not another person around.

In my view, art is only as enjoyable as the effect it has on the viewer. I like art that makes me smile – whether that is due to a laugh or a sweet sentiment it inspires. I found an ear in the woods. No, not a fresh-off-the-murdered-human ear, but a 4 foot tall silver sculpture. It made me smile as it reminded me to listen to the woods. The birds singing. The crunch of the leaves and branches on the path. Coming out of the woods, I saw this on the hill.

Tell me that wouldn’t make you laugh! It’s like Pac Man on a hill.

Here’s my own humble photo of the installation that brought me to Storm Center. My pic doesn’t do it justice, and, quite frankly, the Times photo was a bit better than the real thing. But it was cool.

That’s it. The rest of the weekend was full of fun, friends and laughs – the kind of laughs that cause you to check your make-up b/c you laughed so hard you cried. At one point during the rehearsal dinner, MRA was on the edge of making a speech. We wanted to keep Kirk a friend, so we held him back. I don’t remember the progression, but someone likened my husband to a hemorrhoid at one point. “Kelly is the PreparationH.” I’m the salve for my husband the hemorrhoid. You gotta know Mike.

A visit from a dear friend last week reminded me of a vow I had made to myself for this Spring/Summer – GO HIKING! Weather is cooperating now, so it’s time to put the OCD away (laundry can wait ’til Sunday), pack up the kid and dog and head OUTSIDE.

As Saturday arrived early (dear god, is it really 5:15?!?), and MRA was out the door by 6:30 to golf, we girls gathered our gear and headed to the car. Off to hike. Granted we were just going to the JFK Forest in Forest Park, but we’re talking unpaved trails and unleashed dogs. Just what we needed.

As I loaded Paddi in the back of my truck (enclosed, don’t worry), Kate managed to get her hands up on the tail gate as I was lowering the top of the hatch. Then it happened. There was a pause. Then we both realized that the hatch was closed and her fingers were still in it. Realization – and pain – hit. Tears, a few screams and we were back in the house. With the dog in tow wondering how the trip could have been so short.

Nothing terrible that a few hugs and a Dora band-aid won’t soothe. I try to call off the hike, but my game little girl says no. Back in the car, with still the occasional cry/yelp/sniffel, and we’re off to the Forest.

It’s early (dear god it’s early) so we were able to set off down the trail with Paddi off leash, bounding after whatever hit her nose. Kate, still hurt, needed to be carried. I had a feeling this would happen. Whatever, more exercise for me. So with Kate on piggy back, we’re off to explore nature. Mother Nature.

Choice questions and comments:
“Where is Mother Nature?”
“What’s a bag worm?”
“I’m not ready to go back!”
“We’ve already been that way.”
“Why do we need a bridge?
“Mommy, you’re sweating.” (yeah? really? did you forget you weigh over 30lbs now?)

Nearing what I said HAD to be the end of the hike, I noticed blood on the trail. Just a little drop or two, here and there. Odd. We were doubling-back on a trail, so, shocked I looked at Kate’s hurt thumb although I’m sure I would have noticed it bleeding – as it would have been all over my shoulders and head. We hadn’t seen that many people or dogs on the trail and I couldn’t imagine any hurt wildlife taking the trail, looking for a first aid station.

We finally hit pavement again. Paddi is dutifully trotting just in front of us. Then I realize the source of the blood. The dog. Poor kid, in all of her bounding and jumping through the woods, she had cut the pad on her foot.

So, there you have it. Our first hiking foray. Kate gets hurt before. Paddi is hurt during. And I’m spent for the rest of the day and it’s only 7:30 am.

Big things happen when you turn 3 – including the start of regular trips to the dentist.

I was curious to see how Kate would handle the invasiveness of the routine, the semi-sterileness of the office, and the boring wait. Hm… they approached her with a cheerfulness and speed that I have yet to experience there myself. She responded, opened when asked, and spit with gusto.

After the hygienist finished, we waited for the big cheese to come in and “count her teeth”. He arrived, sat down, and began the same song and dance with Kate. All is well. In the midst of counting her bottom teeth, though, something interrupted the flow.

He pulled back.

She snickered, “oh, that was just a burp.”

I’m so proud.

Last night was Girls’ Night Out in the Annis house. (Paddi, while a girl, did not make the cut. She cried.) Not really in the mood for the trek back downtown and the subsequent hauling of a 32 lb child all around the stadium, in search of the rainbow-colored sno cone, I bundled us up early in hopes of turning back around and heading back home early. (”Lost” was on.)

The train never fails to enchant my kid. Everything is more interesting, beautiful, impressive and exciting when viewed from the windows of a train.

gee, excited much?

Mommy! Look a red robin! (actually, Kate, it’s a pigeon)

Mommy! Look rocks!

Mommy! Look lights!

And so it went, much to the semi-amusement of our fellow travelers. Many of whom were on the train, home from work. Riding because they had to – not because it was some sort of amusement park ride. Finally, as we neared the stadium a guy behind us and across the aisle leaned over and told me “You clearly need to take the kid on the train more often! She’s having so much fun!” Ya think?

On to the stadium. Fredbird in sight. Much like the dinosaurs at the Science Center, she is dying to get close, but not too close. Enchanted. Terrified. Peck on the head, blow a kiss and we’re past the Fredbird test.

Hot dog, fries, beer and water. On to our seats, munching. Hm… now our food is gone and they have yet to start the game. Kate’s ready to move on to the next fun thing and the first pitch has yet to be thrown. Clearly poor planning/timing on my part.

Now the hard part, explaining to Kate what’s going on down on the field and why we should care. Wait, let’s impose on our neighbors and have our photo taken first.

Made it through one inning and had to go explore. After finding that the wind blew really hard – and cold – up in the 300’s, Kate was ready to go back down to our seats. Running here and there…

Mommy look, the arch!

Mommy look, ketchup!

We finally made it back down.

Inning two over. She’s done. So am I. Back to the train and on to our warm, cozy beds.

FOUR innings? What was I thinking?!?

Friends of ours are a bit allergy-prone. Even an “allergen-free” puppy didn’t work for them. Their eventual solution? A beta fish. Beautiful. Dark red. “Eckstein” is now their newest family member.

As families often do, they travel a bit. When they leave, they ask Kate to “fish sit” Eckstein. Our first adventure, last December, was rather uneventful. The one exception came Christmas Eve night. While MRA and I were getting dressed for Christmas Eve service, Kate was downstairs, feeding Eck’s food to the carpet. What? I just didn’t get it, but she thought the food was best served spread all over the floor. A few curse words on the eve of our Lord’s birthday, a vacuum cleaner, and all was fine again.

This time, our gal got a bit more adventurous. Upon arriving home each night – after work/school – I run upstairs to shed my work clothes and don the ubiquitous jeans. Each night, coming back downstairs, I find Kate in various stages of mischievousness.

Day One – The “tree” in Eck’s bowl had been uprooted and a small dino was sitting on the edge of the bowl contemplating (another) dunk.

Day Two – Someone had climbed up on top of the counter and found the food. Eck was a little overwhelmed by the 20+ pieces of fish food floating in his bowl. A typical meal = 4 pieces.

Day Three – Kate was munching a blueberry muffin when I went upstairs. When I returned, Eck was, too.

That last one was the last straw. After fishing out most of the larger crumbs, I was googling “beta fish water care”, on the phone with PetSmart and yelling at Kate to stay in Time Out until her dad came home.

Eck lived to see another day – thanks to Jenn at PetSmart – but I doubt Kate will be asked to fish sit anytime again soon.

Kate and Eckstein

While I don’t consider myself truly “goal-oriented”, sad as that may sound, I have come up with a fun goal, trip, commitment for the summer:

While the boy is out golfing every Saturday morning, Kate and I are going to hike. We’ll find a new trail each week, pack a snack, and get out and enjoy nature at its best.

My only reservation: she’s 3 and will likely run outa gas after the first quarter-mile.

Ok, so it will become a piggy-back-hike. Really good for the legs as I tote a 30+ lb toddler on my back!