Fear B Gone

Veronica surrounded by the strength of 11 Rockwoods, Snake River

The lady at the counter handed me a 5'2'' purple wetsuit. How did she know about me and purple? This was my first tip-off that it was going to be a great day, and that for better or worse, (worse being my ultimate demise) I was about to make an important crossover in my life. I was already being rewarded for casting aside my fear of white water rafting.

We loaded into a retired school bus for a bumpy ride to the Snake River.  Nothing about the bus driver seemed especially creepy until he took us deep into an abysmal mountainside downpour, closer and closer to Snake River.

 "Where do you think he keeps the chainsaw?" I whispered to Steve, not unlike a fourth grader riding a school bus.

The bus zigzagged down the mountainside and stopped at a soggy beach with hammering rain. A streak of blue windbreaker bounded on board. Below its dripping hood we could see a mustache frame a broad smile. "How much does a polar bear weigh??" He left a dramatic pause "--Enough to break the ice! My name is Mike and I'll be assigning your group a raft today!" The wetsuits on board jiggled with laughter. "I have yet to successfully pick up a female with that one," said Mike. 

Tristan was our guide. He epitomizes what you'd imagine a white water rafting guide to look like. He adjusted his MTV hat tightly on his head, and shared his life story with us on the walk to the rafts: After graduating in business, he moved to Chicago to see if he could hack it, but lasted only a year. He works the river in the summer, and the slopes in the winter. "In other words, I'm a professional kid."

Inside the raft, Tristan briefs my family on safety. If you fall out, do NOT try to touch the bottom or stand in the river. Your foot could get caught and the current could force you under.

 "What happens if you fall out and we go down the river without a guide?"

Then that would be really embarrassing.

At this point, I'm not sure if we're all dying because Tristan is funny or because we're terrified of the approaching Big Kahuna, famous Snake River rapid. I think back to a conversation I had about being too afraid to do this.

 And suddenly, with Big Kahuna looming, I hear my voice shouting. I am shouting war cries at the tumultuous rapid with white water like a frothing, monstrous mouth. Tristan gives a hearty command with feeling: ALL FORWARD! LET'S GO PLAY! I'm cheering on my husband, my older brothers, their wives, my dad, and my little niece and nephews crouched at the nose of the raft. I pump my fists in the air and signal a bold "Bring it" gesture, then reach my hands up over my head like a roller coaster.

The rapid's mouth takes its first chomp at our raft. Suddenly, someone is in my lap, along with a tidal wave of piercing cold water. I scramble to shoulder whoever is on top of me back to their position. More water. Are the little kids OK? My eyes are somehow pointing directly at the sky, and we go sailing on the crest of a wave. A final slap of river in our faces, and I begin to wonder if we had been defeated. But everyone is still inside the raft. Big Kahuna gurgles and splashes behind us, set and determined for its next prey. Everyone reacts with laughter, filling the canyon with the echos of glee. We made it.

Perhaps the reason I found this experience so fascinating is because I am not someone who practices being afraid. Someone once said that we should do something every day that scares us. This may have been the first thing I've done in my life that could positively "strike fear into the hearts of men."

And how do I react to a pounding, fearful, survivalistic heart?

Shouting. Lots and lots of shouting. 

:)

.veronica.

our family

Dadda and Darcy:   90% water

                                       10% fruit snacks

Mamma: 100% Guacamole

 Thanks goodness Darcy refuses to eat green things.

More guac for me on this wonderful Wednesday. 

What are your foodstuff makeup percentages?

.veronica.

26

I woke up Friday morning and was officially over a quarter of a century old. I almost didn't believe it. I looked around for evidence of my being so.....adult.

I have a husband.

I have a child.

Next comes....senior discounts?

In outright defiance of 26, my husband took his girls to the Phoenix Children's Museum.

Entering the museum, the first thing you see is this claw-foot tub with swan wings suspended 30 feet overhead. All I could think about for the rest of my birthday was the person responsible for creating the magical flying bathtub. 

And can they be my daughter's preschool teacher?

And then maybe my friend?

Because by the time you get to be my age you've been told so many times, "Inanimate objects cannot fly." It's wrong to color purple polka-dots in the sky. It's impractical to make the duck talk with a British accent. Imaginary friends don't exist.

 In short, grow up.

It makes me wonder how we're going to solve the many large problems facing the world when we put it into a child's mind that not all things are possible.

The museum decor is inspired by children's imaginations. They filled the whole ceiling with fish creatures made out of stuff a child would have on hand.

The Monet of watercolor

Painting a rocket ship with two paintbrushes.

 One of the first things Steven said when Darcy came to our family was, "She's gonna have a killer imagination." I remember thinking it was an unusual prediction at the time. Couldn't we first get her sleeping through the night? 

But every morning when I get to look at my freshly rested little girl and into her large brown eyes, I realize that her imagination is something worth fighting for. She was born creative beyond the limits of our circumstances. That creativity has the potential to do great things. 

                                       

Never underestimate the effect a British accent can have on the world.

.veronica.

How much is that Darcy in the...

"Hi! How you doing today?!"

Ouch.

My sides.

.veronica.

Z is for zoo

Planning a day at the Phoenix Zoo in August is like planning to go sightseeing on the surface of the sun....with animals.

We chose a rainy day to visit the zoo--the only acceptable kind of day, in my book. I'm a stormy kind of person on the inside. If you cracked me open, I'd look like the Northwest in April.

The Phoenix Zoo has a refreshing "Enchanted Forest" area to play in. Darcy and I love the crystal  creek that wraps around a whimsy tree house. It makes us feel like hobbits keeping cool on a torrid day in the Shire.

Looming over the enchanted forest like the eye of sauron is the zoo's carousel. As we splashed in the lapping water, Darcy took notice and immediately begged me to take her. No, I said. We're having plenty of fun not spending extra money. She forgot about it, but I felt myself start to cave. She's so cute. She is just like her Dadda. She makes me laugh until my sides hurt every day. Maybe...

Darcy's expression is pure elation as she goes sailing up and down on the back of a great white shark, the strangest animal to pick out of the entire carousel, if you ask me. Her laughter travels around a spoke. Frozen animals all around us seem to look at her like, "It's just a carousel, kid." After several minutes on the ride, the shark is losing speed. And Darcy starts to screech--she is angry at me because the fun is over.  I can't begin to comprehend what is happening.....my daughter is screaming....because  I treated her.....with a ride.....on the carousel.

I subdue my explosive child as best as I can, and we start the drive home. The clouds that once blanketed the flat, brown desert are breaking up. The harsh, blazing sun is cracking brittle earth again. Puddles are evaporating. My carousel is slowing down. The great white shark is screeching to a halt. I feel the complete unfairness of it all rising up.

And I still have no idea where she gets it from.

.veronica.