Adventures In Motherhood

'Twas the day after Christmas and all through the house,  not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.  Tucked under the covers 'til 10am without spouse,  I had finally woken alone in my house! Six am, my family set off for the slopes, bittersweet.  My recent knee surgery forced me to kick up my feet. Not before I thrift-shopped my legs off Christmas Eve, for ski pants, gloves and coats fit for teens.  My husband begrudgingly purchased the tickets, complaining the effort, was less worth the beans. You see Forced Family Fun is not for the faint of heart.  Though absolutely better when you can take part! The whine of the child who hates skiing, or apply for jobs, or for that matter, reading,  falls on deaf ears to wise 'ole parents of 4 teens. We may look exhausted tho we are resilient,  We insist on life skills and believe less screen time is brilliant. My daughter in tears her boyfriend had parted,  hadn't realized the fun had only just sta...

The past few days have been a whirlwind of teenage Tik-Tok-worthy wasteland. The dog froze his nutz off in Wallowa Lake and we found ourselves bouncing off our booty cheeks rafting down the Boise River yesterday. Rolling through Utah in the back of the bus today, I’m somewhere between seasick and sadness as I continue my pilgrimage towards Park City, Utah, the last resting slope-scape nirvana for my late brother, and I remain grateful my four children have each other.   Wallowa was the turning point for this Force Family Fun experience. Moving Day 3 heading backwards on the Oregon Trail towards Colorado, we nearly reached the breaking point one hairpin u-turn and scorching coffee spill on my hind leg and that of my Schnoodle in the back seat of the minivan, just shy of the quaint town of Joseph. Nevertheless we forged on to the Switzerland of Oregon, where the Schnoodle was baptized in the glacier waters of Wallowa Lake. Apparently everyone, save myself, froze their nutz off i...

We’ve only just begun our trek backwards to Colorado, having already succumbed to the pitfalls of the Oregon Trail...  Determined to see the last of the ‘7 Wonders of Oregon’ on our move east to Colorado, we found ourselves in the Painted Hills yesterday. The red, orange and black colors smudged in the landscape appeared like a sand painting awash on the hills of central Oregon. A paleontological feat, some 35 million years in the making, the history lesson fell on deaf ears thanks to milkshakes and greasy cheeseburgers at the #1 thing to do in Condon, OR.  We hit ‘The Drive In’ in Condon Oregon (insert 13-year-old’s condom joke here 😜) around one o’clock, famished from the Holiday Inn Express breakfast described as ‘mid’ by my four teenagers, because what it lacked in Fruit Loops it made up for in rubbery cheese omelets. A few greasy burgers and milkshakes later, we were well on our way towards John Day National Monument. Let’s just say, we were ill prepared for the awe-insp...

I thought I'd done everything to protect my kids during the pandemic, from quarantine, to vaccinations and face masks, until Santa came to town. Apparently he wanted to offer vaccinated children who were dating an additional barrier against infection this year!  It was 7 am on the nose Christmas morning and the kids were throwing Schnoodles on us in bed. Like the rousing cup of coffee every parent needs, it was pitch black outside and I could hardly believe it was morning. Grabbing our robes, we hustled downstairs before we missed the destruction of stockings and gift wrappings. Regardless of age, our children were equally excited by the Pez dispensers, Lifesavers and foil wrapped Santas in their stockings, and eager to find out which Schnoodle earned a lump of coal for puking on the carpet or stealing someone's dinner off the table. Board games were to be expected, as Santa enjoys 'Forced Family Fun' as much as we do as parents, despite the teens; but it was the last b...

We can kiss Walmart parking lot camping goodbye without a generator that hums. So much for the Instagram photo op of us sitting in camping chairs grilling hot dogs and drinking Budweiser! Nevertheless, the steamy turd rolls on... Outdoorsy is a third-rate RV rental shop at best, spewing ‘fake news’ of a purported ‘trusted RV marketplace’ on its website. Tho’ I’ll be the first to admit Outdoorsy can be trusted to take your money!  After waiting two hours to be connected to a member of their ‘customer support team’, I learned a few things. First, my 10-year-old is more knowledgable than an Outdoorsy customer service rep. Second, calling back is not an option. Customer service reps refuse to provide their direct contact phone number or corporate email address, so you are forced to wait on hold for hours on end unless your RV problems are solved. Third, Outdoorsy customer service reps suck at problem solving. For example, driving from Tahoe to Portland in the same day t...

We survived the first day of RV living if not for the grace of God. Packing up the trashcan on wheels, full of our shit, we cornered on two wheels heading out of our city neighborhood to a lesser civilization, just shy of our 9am goal. It was 9:45 am and my husband and I were running low on fuel. With Starbucks in our future, we refused to brew a pot of caffeine, sparing little time for anything other than securing six bikes on the RV, a Herculean task of engineering prowess. Somewhere between the Sellwood Bridge and I-5 we had our first pre-coffee battle. Having lived in Portland for four years I figured my hubby could find his way to the interstate heading south; this was clearly my first mistake. Never assume a man will ask for directions! We found ourselves in Multnomah Village somewhere between my posting a selfie sendoff on Instagram and my children complaining about the lack of Wi-Fi. Glancing up from my iPhone I yelled “Holy Shit Clark!” followed his cursed ...

All my children over the age of twelve are pissed. That's how I know we're back to school. Stacks of paperwork, times four, thrown on my desk needing signatures, fees paid, calendar updates, and child assessments leaving me as empty as the checkbook and empathizing with their need for one last week of summer vacation. My fourth grader might be agreeable, if not for his siblings cursing homework assignments; after all, he's dismissed by 2:15pm daily and has at least two outdoor recesses! With three days of back-to-school torture under our belts we packed up the minivan, Griswold-style, and set off for a Labor Day camping weekend unplugged to recharge. Off the grid without a Snapchat or video game in sight, we exhaled and embraced the Forced Family Fun outdoor recess we all needed at the foot of Mt. Hood. Tent camping requires as much prep and patience as back-to-school shopping, minus the sharpened Ticonderoga pencils and damned college-ruled graph paper always out of st...

I've been shaking my head a lot lately over angry drivers while wondering how my pristine driving record could upset so many Portlandians. In a progressive city where it's the law to stop for pedestrians, I'm shocked by the vulgarity I face on a daily basis as chauffeur-mom to four children. In the past month I've faced humanity and determined we need to save the planet, one less car at a time... "Mom, he's looking back at us and he's giving you the middle finger," my daughter laughed on our way to drop her at the airport two weeks ago.  "It's not me, it's got to be for someone else," I said, stopping behind the man with the erect middle finger sitting in the old sedan at the intersection.  Green light. Go! Sure enough, the dude turned left, abruptly merging into the right lane and slowing down to pull alongside me. Yep, she was right, he was clearly making sure both my teen daughter and I saw him flip me the bird, rath...

Bowls full of crock-pot dinner, facing a 40-minute commute in traffic, I didn't know what to expect as we piled in the car last night without screen time devices. Surely bitching and moaning, touching and arguing would ensue, and not just with my husband. "Boredom is good!" my husband and I agreed. Optimistic, I hoped for the best. Forced Family Fun (#FFF) time together giving back during the holiday season. What could go wrong? I decided to mix it up this year, volunteering the six of us as a team packing food and fun at the Oregon Food Bank. Donations of allowance to charity and serving pie and turkey at the Salvation Army in years past were too predictable. I prayed my children would step up to the challenge. "Why don't you tell the brothers about your day?" I asked my 15-year-old daughter trapped in the middle of the car. "Perhaps they can problem solve your dilemma." I was having a hell of a time figuring out the situation myself; saving f...

I can't help but laugh at my lack of agility as of late as I sit on an ice pack nursing my hip from last weekend's yard work extravaganza. I often underestimate my abilities and pay the price later, but who can blame me for envisioning myself as fit and fast as my children? Recently they challenged me to an outdoor Parkour obstacle course that looked easy. Why not? I thought, imagining myself showing off my cat like reflexes and surely matching their pace, not my age. I aspired to be the fastest woman of the Parkour Challenge and confident this Tough Mother could outpace anyone! As I surveyed the course of wooden obstacles, I imagined the CIA training course of my youth. In my twenties, there were no obstacles that could hold me back and everyone banded together to accomplish the course. Over the wall, despite my small stature, a test of fitness and badge of pride earned! Somewhat lacking the chutzpah to immediately tackle the Parkour course, I carefully strategized my ...

My life could be a script for National Lampoon's Summer Vacation! Last weekend my in-laws arrived two days early 'Cousin Eddie' style, in a Winnebago parked in front of my house while I assumed the Clark Griswold role for better or worse, as if dictated by my wedding vows. Though my mother and late father-in-law always arrived at their leisure over our 23-year marriage without much forethought for our schedule, as my passive husband permitted, I cannot help but love these people who comprise my family and admire their sense of adventure! God bless 'em! Who could blame my 84-year-old mother-in-law for desperately wanting to see her son and grandchildren while embarking on a 2,000-mile trek to the Pacific Northwest, reminiscent of the travels she took with her late husband who passed last summer after nearly 65 years of marriage? This time my sister-in-law (aka Chia) and her partner of 18 years (aka Junker), along with their intimidating Boxer with enormous balls name...

Desperate times call for desperate measures and more than halfway into the summer, I was desperate for a few hours to myself. Selfishly I craved time to write, to attend yoga, or simply to use the bathroom ALONE. I was desperate for a creative alternative that didn't include screen-time, arguing or debate, when lo and behold, the perfect solution presented itself, to include my kids bonding (without my guidance) and exercise on bikes! The hours of entertainment were sure to please everyone, including this desperate mother of four kids. What is this Utopian solution? Vintage arcade games! They didn't harm us as kids and beat the hell out of the violent first person shooter games my kids' friends play. Frogger, PacMan, Asteroids, Centipede, Donkey Kong, you name it, Ground Kontrol has it and it's only a four-mile bike ride away. My sons say it even builds hand-eye coordination for baseball, though I'm less persuaded. Just yesterday I set out on a Forced Family Fun...