My Contribution to the 1st Day of School Commentary or Let Her Touch the Butt

Today was Riley’s first day of Kindergarten. I kept thinking of the movie Finding Nemo. Aside from the obvious “First day of school! First day of school!” scene, I could relate to Marlin (Nemo’s dad for those of you who haven’t seen the movie because you dwell in the outskirts of the Himalayas and let’s face it, you’re not going to be reading some narcissistic blog anyway) and his struggle as an overprotective parent.

Riley with her best friend.

The hand-holding was completely unprompted.

Instinctively, all parents want to ensure no one will hurt our kid’s feelings, that they share with their peers, and they wash their hands when they’re supposed to. I expect the desire to comfort and protect them will intensify when they’re about 18 years old. Especially if it involves issues such as not being accepted to the University of Utah and having to attend BYU instead. That they don’t eat a dog turd, roll bowling balls down 1800 south, or stick marshmallows between their butt cheeks & run around, no matter how important the dare may seem.

I have to remind myself that it's not the end of the world if she doesn't always remember to brush her teeth, outfit's she picks out won't always match, and it’s ok to let her “touch the butt.” I won't always be there to hold her hand and she may get hurt on occasion. Failure is also a part of learning and though it may be difficult, it’s also a crucial part of growing up. In the meantime, I’ll try to be more like Crush and sit back for a few and watch what Squirt can do.

My first day of Kindergarten, 1981.

Check out my chic Velour shirt (picked that out myself) and creased jeans!

Happy Campers

Last weekend I went camping at Washington Lake in the Uinta Mountains, near the Trial Lake trailhead. My first real memory of camping was in North Canyon when I was probably 6 or 7 years old. I went with my Dad, Uncle Mike and my cousins Kevin & Tracy from California. I’ve been almost every summer since I can remember. The only time I didn’t enjoy going was during the too-cool-to-hang-out-with-my-family (13 to about 22 years old) phase.

Circa 198?-still-looks-awesome-when-you-tuck-your-shirt-into-your-ridiculous-hiked-up-sweatpants.

So much has changed since my family first started going to this particular lake. There is now a paved road to get there and quite a large campground where many of the sites now require reservations. It was saddening to see the amount of broken glass, soda cans, plastic bottles, fishing line, globs of power bait and socks galore (that one I can’t figure out) littering the lake shore. I kept thinking “stupid humans.” The constant drone of power generators from 7 a.m. to 10:00 p.m. was a little annoying. I admit I’ve been very grateful for the one my parents have with their modest trailer, but the day they hook up a satellite for t.v. while camping, I’m calling it quits.

The offspring love to go, but they have already grown accustomed to certain luxuries that come with being Grandma’s & Papa’s camping-mates. Riley caught her first of many fish this trip. It’s a rite of passage and Grandpa couldn’t have been more proud. I’m no longer a big fan of fishing, because I don’t eat them, but it was exciting to watch Riley fish from the canoe, pleading to catch “just one more” and not wanting to come in from the lake. She is my water-baby.

Tyler on the other hand, is the opposite. He’s more comfortable with his feet on the earth, rocks or in the mud. He was more interested in finding and collecting rocks, bugs, sticks, dogs, the camp host and other toddlers. I won’t be surprised if this kid becomes an Entomologist, Paleontologist, or Ironman.

Tyler charmed the camp host right out of his golf cart.

I was expecting a better show from the Perseid meteor shower. I stayed up until midnight, but didn’t see more than any other time in the mountains. However, the view of the Milky Way was incredible, the stars were majestic and the sky was completely filled with them. After proving that I have mastered the skill of roasting marshmallows to perfection, I’m content for another year.

Amélie would love this place.