This last year was a big one for me in one major way: it was a redefinition of my professional existence. Since the end of 2009, I’ve transformed from a professional manager to a … hmm … well, my title (however formal it needs to be) is “Solutions Lead”, but that belies a lot of what I do every day, and just using “web developer” or “programmer” — even with a “Senior” prefix — completely understates the reality. This year was really about taking all the skills and knowledge I’d acquired as a leader, and merging that back into my day-to-day development practices.

And that, as the saying goes, was only the tip of the iceberg…

I did a LOT of work. I did so much, in fact, that my contracting business is gone. Doors closed, windows shut, lights off. Permanently. I had to make a very painful call to realise that I need to focus on the three most important things in my life: my family. (There’s three of them, in case you were wondering.) To focus on them means to remove all other distractions inasmuch as is possible, and still earn a paycheque along the way (helping to support said family, of course).

Add to that Alex’s return to work after nearly four years off as a Professional Mom, working evening shifts. That meant more time as a Professional Dad, whether I liked it or not. (And I like it, really. Except for dinner time. Suddenly, I have nothing but sympathy for my parents when I was a kid.) It’s adjustment, it’s growth.

As a result of all of this, many things suffered. My hobbies (what few I have) were shelved — even my desire to blog waned dramatically, with more than a couple of blogless months. My TV watching fell to an all-time low, and I can count on one hand the number of movies I saw in the theatre (coincidentally, also the number of movies I watched during the Christmas break at home through iTunes). My health has also been … unattended, with a noticeable increase in girth and an unhealthy increase in my beer consumption (since decreased, thankfully).

But if you were to ask me if I was “unhappy”, I’d have to say “no”. Every day, my kids remind me why I’m proud to be their dad. Every day, I get a challenge in my job. Every day, I enjoy life, even if it’s only for a few moments. To say I’m “unhappy” would be a disservice (if not an outright insult) to my daily existence, and those around me.

To that end, I can safety state that I’ve:

• Been into Banff National Park on a few occasions — both warm and cold — but nowhere near enough for my liking
• Picnicked as much as we could, but again nowhere near enough for what we could have done
• Enjoyed the first brew from Calgary’s new Village Brewery
• Did some renovation work in the kitchen (and planned more renovation work for this year)
• Retaught myself the fundamentals of being a (web) developer, and merged that with the skills and knowledge of a technology director
• Lamented as I saw Choo Choo seem to grow by leaps and bounds, going from my little baby girl to a walking, talking toddler
• Finally accepted the truth, and got glasses
• Came to understand my father in ways I never thought possible, and really wished that he could be here today to see how his son (kinda) grew up
• Accepted the reality that I will only ever be a father of two beautiful girls — there will never be a third offspring
• Watched in horror as Canada succumbed to fear mongering and elected a government that refuses to listen to its own people (a terrifyingly global trend in 2011)
• Mourned the loss of one of Canada’s best politicians since Pierre Trudeau, the Honourable Jack Layton
• Experienced my first general anesthesia to get my hernia repaired … boy, I do not want to go through that again!
• Drank way too much coffee (yes, folks, that is possible)
• Similarly, also drank too much beer (yes, also possible, though admittedly it tasted really good at the time)
• Launched more projects in one year than I had launched during my busiest five years (combined) at my previous company
• Took Monkey on the SUPER SECRET MONKEY SURPRISE — a short trip on CP 2816
• Took Monkey to the Stampede, and realised to my delight (or possible horror, not sure yet) that she loves rides, especially roller coasters
• Also got the Mother of All Headaches while at the Stampede…
• Travelled to Ontario to visit with my family
• Spent a lot of time swimming in the lake with Monkey and my nieces
• Rode another steam train in Huntsville
• Visited with some old and dear friends (especially Stuart and Therese)
• Celebrated Monkey’s 4th birthday, and Choo Choo’s first birthday
• Also rode on the Heritage Park steam train
• Travelled to Red Deer to see the Backyardigans live (oh, the things parents must do…)
• Travelled once again to the West Coast for post-Christmas and New Year’s celebrations

I’m sure there’s other stuff I did, but my blog was so light on content in 2011 that … well, I’m not sure. Sure, I can try to read Twitter, but I used that in lieu of my blog, so there’s a few thousand tweets I’d need to go over. That’s a little too much. So if I’m making any resolution this year, it’s to write more blog posts.

Thankfully, there’s a Fairmont hotel here, too, and the tradition continues fairly readily. So with enough advance notice, we reserved a space, and made arrangements to have the tradition carry on. The only question was who would be our guests this year?

Well, it’s not like we don’t know anyone in the Lower Mainland…

Last year we had (sadly) gone on without a guest, so this year we made an extra effort to have someone join us. Because the first year had been a(n old) friend of mine, we went with one of Alex’s friends, Sandra. They’ve known each other pretty much ever since Alex moved back to Calgary (and strongly believe — though as of yet proven definitively — that they’re distantly related), and it was a perfect chance to invite close friends (who also happen to have kids).

The Fairmont Hotel Vancouver is one of the mainstays of downtown Vancouver. I’d only ever been in it once before, ages ago, for a quick drink one evening. It shows its age a bit, I think, and is not quite as nice as the Banff Springs (in my opinion). But it was the only Fairmont hotel in town that did afternoon tea (there is another, but tea is not offered), and thus our best option.

(Okay, to be fair, our best option was to go to the Empress in Victoria — which had been my first hope — but the act of getting to Victoria was definitely much more convoluted and the potential guest list much shorter. One day, however, I will have my tea at the Empress!)

Our drive into Vancouver was one that filled me with excitement. I love Vancouver, I truly do. It’s taken me years to really appreciate the vibrance of the buildings, the communities, the myriad of curious shops, all blended with the water and the mountains. Near-13 years ago, when I left Vancouver, I swore I’d never return. Today, I find myself desperately trying to find a way to come back. (And I may — more on that, later…)

Going off of old memories, I turned our rented minivan (not my choice of vehicle, I should note, and I will never rent one again — I loathe these vehicles) off Highway 1 onto the Grandview Highway for the trip into the city. It took us past many of the small communities and lush, green parks that I’d remembered only poorly, and realised just how much I’d missed them. We turned down Kingsway and then onto Main St, before zigging across Terminal to Quebec (which turns into Expo Bvld, and then into Pacific Bvld), which I realised after a few moments wasn’t the way I’d planned to go (I’d actually meant to go on the Georgia viaduct).

The mistake, however, let me zip into Yaletown for a gander at where I’d spent two years living (part of) my life. It was where Radical Entertainment had been located, and I’d spent many hours of every day either in the office, or walking the areas around it coming to and from work, or going to lunch with co-workers. I knew I wouldn’t see the same neighbourhood, but I guess nothing really prepares you for the suddenness of seeing something that’s been evolving for nearly a decade. The last time I’d been there was to have a beer with my friend Greg, the day before our respective weddings (he was married the same day).

Then it was up Homer to Georgia, and the final task: find a place to park. And, more importantly, one I could get in with a minivan (easier said than done; parallel-parking that bastard was not something I wanted to attempt). It took nearly 10 minutes to find an underground lot at the Scotiabank Theatre building at Burrard and Smithe. We walked up Burrard to Robson, and — having noticed the advertisments while looking to park — went into the soon-to-be-closing HMV.

The HMV at the corner of Robson and Burrard was an icon. Three floors of heaven … at least for me, at the end of the 1990s, before Apple killed off the music stores. (That is not an attack on Apple, by the way. Apple was just the one who made it happen. Music stores’ death was a given the day the MP3 format was first used.) I remember the HMV from those days past as a place I could lose hours in: perusing the racks on the main and upper (half) floor, looking for things that would sound great, but usually to see what CDs were in the 2 for $20 bins. Downstairs was the massive DVD section; another massive use of my time (and money).

As we walked in the door, passing one of the clerks bearing massive signs on posts, held over their heads in “the end of the world is near”-style with “store closing – up to 70% off” emblazoned in massive letters, I couldn’t help feel a pang of remorse. I am one who has contributed to the loss of such stores. I lamented the closing of the massive 4-floor A&B Sound in downtown Vancouver (a building that remains empty to this day, surprisingly enough), despite being just as at fault for buying music online (though I freely admit at the time that I was still buying CDs in large quantities). I even commented to Monkey to look carefully, as she’ll not see another store like this again in her life. It is truly a dying breed.

We arrived at the Hotel Vancouver just before noon, and found ourselves the first to arrive in the lounge for tea. A set of five round tables had been moved into a long row, twelve chairs arranged around the row in preparation for our party. A large artificial tree, coated liberally with artificial snow, occupied a point in the centre of the room, next to our tables. The bar was to one side, the 12-foot arched windows into the alley entrance for valets and taxis to the other.

Nicole, (“Tia Nicole” to the kids, “Nikki” to just about everyone else) was the first to arrive, having survived her New Years Eve intact. Sandra and her brood arrived not long afterwards (although Amir was unable to attend, having been called into the hospital). Grandpa and Granny arrived a while later.

The tea was … well, perhaps a little disappointing, compared to how the Banff Springs delivers it. There, the tea is wheeled out to you so you may sniff at the loose tea before ordering. The view is unmatched, with looking down the Bow River valley. The food is served on china, using silver frames to separate the three levels of sandwiches and cakes. The Hotel Vancouver cannot match the view, sadly; the menus looked a little too tattered. And while the food was still high-quality, it just somehow seemed lacking. Perhaps I’m too spoiled from Banff?

The company, however, was welcome, and (thankfully) all of the kids were well-behaved. It was by far our largest gathering, and I was a little worried that it might get out of hand. But even the arrival of the harpist, who was immediately beset by all the kids (and Monkey desperately trying to pluck the strings in such a way that looked like she might rip them out of the frame) was tame, and we left without a single broken anything. (Well, maybe a resolution or two related to diet, but that’s not my problem…)

With Tia Nicole in tow, we braved HMV for a deal or three before heading out of downtown. Our trip back, however, was indirect, as Alex and I had a side trip we needed to do. Last night, after our New Year’s Eve dinner sans kidlets, we went driving out to Port Moody. To look at houses.

We’re thinking of moving to the west coast. We’re not sure when, but the move itself is an eventuality. The question is “where”. Alex would just as soon move in next door to her parents (okay, okay, slight exaggeration). Me? Houseboat on False Creek. As you can see, there’s a bit of a discrepancy we have to deal with. The last time Alex was out here (back in June, when I was mired in a week-long slog just before a site launch), she’d “discovered” Port Moody as a strong potential option. It’s on the West Coast Express line, fairly easy to get to Maple Ridge, and has one of the region’s hospitals. It’s also on the water, and the views there are really quite nice.

So last night we drove around a bit. What was out there? What was for sale, and could we even hope to afford anything? Would we even like it? With Christmas lights, the place does look very inviting, but the darkness (and it was dark!) obscures much. We had to come back in the daytime to get a better idea.

And the idea is … well, it’s looking good. We even found a house that we like (location especially), which lends credence to the thought. The hard part, really, is knowing “when”. That’ll come down to Alex finding a position that will work for her as a primary motivator — I’m a little easier to deal with, employment-wise.

But that’s for another year — I doubt it will be this one, or even next year. There is much that needs to happen, and many things we need to do between now and then. But we can start to think and plan.

Like for next year … where are we doing tea, and who’s coming?

That brings me to today, Christmas Day 2011. Today is another long, hard day in a long line of long, hard days. But not a bad day — certainly not bad. Just long, and by the end of it my head is spinning and I long for a day where I don’t have to do anything … despite knowing full well that were I actually to get such a day, I’d be bored outta my tree.

Such is the life of the working parent, I suppose…

The last couple of months have been filled in a near-insane level of activity, and almost no break whatsoever. Even when my most recent project delivered and my company closed down for the holidays, the gear just shifted into “Christmas preparation”. This went until last night, at about 11:45, when the last present had been stashed under the tree, and I could sit down and relax for a few moments before Alex got home from work (she doesn’t get off work until 23:30, and not home until midnight).

Barely six hours of sleep … and the mayhem began.

Today is the first Christmas where Monkey will remember the details, where she was excited about Santa Claus, where she knew exactly what she wanted, and we’d be in some serious trouble if the present didn’t come. (For the record, a Dora the Explorer singing guitar.) It was the first Christmas where we had to fend off children from running right to the Christmas tree. It was the first Christmas where I understood why my parents wanted to eat breakfast before a single present was unwrapped.

I think back to those earliest Christmases I can remember, and they are nothing but joyful. Oddly enough, I don’t remember fights with my sister, though I’m certain they happened. I remember wonderful things wrapped in colourful paper, hours spent in our basement (the tree was kept far from view while I was young), playing with new toys for hours more. I remember the trips to Mrs. Sinnott’s apartment for lunch, and afterwards the entire troupe would end up at our house for a massive, and very loud, dinner. Those years are long since past, never to return. I miss them greatly, but the memories haven’t faded.

It’s been 10 years since our last Christmas with dad. That, too, was a very happy Christmas. Although smaller, it was the day my brother-in-law formally proposed to my sister. There wasn’t a dry eye in the room … partly because Craig was stringing Cathy along with some rather inventively-labelled gifts. It was a tremendous meal, too. And it was as loud as any dinner I could remember previous.

Ten years later, I’m starting those same memories with my kids. While I suspect we’ll not have the same insanity around the dinner table that followed each and every Christmas at Gatestone Avenue, Alex and I have strived to make some traditions we hope to keep going. (Whether or not they get more boisterous remains to be seen.)

Today, while still in the midst of presents, we Skyped with some of the family back east — technical difficulties prevented full communication, along with small kids eating up parental patience and stamina on both ends. Tempers flared, tears rolled, and a few things were thrown. Mom then reminded me that Cathy and I had done precisely the same thing when we were kids (even I don’t remember it), and her recommendation was a deep breath and naps for everyone.

Two napped. The ones who needed them most (the extremely tired and the last-shift worker), did not.

Brunch was late in the morning, waiting for Grandma to arrive. Moulded pancakes with fruit salad and maple bacon. A decent meal, if a bit of a struggle (pancake moulds and I have a tepid relationship). Though significantly better than my dinner meal, which was a slow-cooked orange-cranberry turkey breast. The Sahara might be considered more moist. Alex was luckily spared, as she had to work.

That’s been the strangest part of this Christmas, not having Alex around all the time. She’s usually out of the house between 15:00 and 23:50 on the days she works, including Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, two of the hardest days of the year to not be at home. It’s been hard on everyone, but I feel particularly bad for Alex, having to miss the evening events. We had to skimp on Christmas dinner, possibly my single favourite meal of the year, because Alex wouldn’t be here. (Hence the horridly dry turkey breast.)

It’s time to start thinking about closing out the year, which we’ll do from the West Coast, and look towards the events of 2012. I’m looking forward to a good time.

Happy holidays, everyone!

I will freely admit that it wasn’t my “best” birthday, but it was definitely memorable (and positively so), which in the end is pretty much all you can ask for, right? Besides, it’s the last birthday before I get tagged with all those “other the hill” monikers. (Cathy, if you even think about pulling a lawn full of fake gravestones next year, you have no idea the wrath I shall drop on you for your 40th…)

It all started at 4:00am on Saturday morning…

That’s when Choo Choo woke up. Choo Choo has a nasty habit of waking up long before a “reasonable” hour, notably 8:00am, which after many late night for many weeks/months, is a significant improvement over, oh, anything before it. I managed to get her back down in her crib and back to sleep, and it looked like that might work. Which it did, for about 30 minutes or so. Up again.

I was up for good before 6:00am, although exactly what time it was, I couldn’t tell you. Nor can I tell you the exact details from when I got up until about 7:15 or so, which is when the Daily Battle of the Wills started again (in other words, when I tell Monkey that she needs to get dressed for the day), and I effectively ended up going back to bed to lie down from physical and mental exhaustion.

And this, dear reader, is where things at Casa del Sowrey went decidedly sideways. I (moronically) decreed that unless Monkey got changed, we were leaving her behind for breakfast (the plan was to go up to the Sunterra). It was a hollow threat, and I (wrongly) assumed it would motivate her to get dressed. Monkey slammed her door (yes, she’s only three — I’m installing bumpers before too long), and after being (rightly) admonished for my overbearing behaviour, I (idiotically) sulked off to my room and inadvertently slammed my door, too (swung the door too hard, got caught in the draft, I dunno, nor does it matter). I laid down, closed my eyes to stop the throbbing, and must have passed out, if only for a few minutes.

Alex, for her part, remained the calm centre of chaos, and (wisely) wrote the both of us off. She took Choo Choo and proceeded to breakfast, as neither Monkey nor I were really being cooperative, and it was wholly unfair to have Alex and Choo Choo go hungry because of our bad behaviour. I didn’t know that they’d left (having apparently passed out) until Monkey came in and woke me up because she was hungry (and actually dressed). I (still wrongly) assumed we were all going to Sunterra. I was then informed that Mommy had left. I was … well, still exhausted, and also a little stunned.

I went into a heavy funk. Be it due to my aforementioned exhaustion, or ego, or what-have-you, I felt a little put out. It didn’t help that I’d woken with a wicked sense of abandonment to begin with, but now I’d had an actual instance to back it up, too. I fed Monkey, and then started to wallow in self-pity (along with a couple of strong cups of coffee).

Okay, let me explain a little…

Some 10 years ago, I used to hang out with friends frequently (it didn’t help that I lived with one of my best friends, Chris, so we had guests almost constantly). Even after I moved into my own home, I still lived with a good friend, and did pretty much what I wanted when I wanted. I saw people, I went out, I had “fun”. (I use the quotes only to indicate the general term of “fun”, rather than imply some form of negative or sarcasm.) Even when Alex and I got married, there was still the sense of seeing friends and other people — Alex and I went out fairly frequently, so we never felt house-bound.

And then we had kids. And my friends got married. And moved away. Had kids of their own. And suddenly … I realised that despite all the people I knew, I felt very much alone.

That’s what hit me Saturday morning. Even though I had a loving family (we’ll ignore the whole 4:00am-10:00am window due to sheer irregular chaos), I felt like I was at the end of my line. I was the afterthought, the forgotten bottom rung on the ladder that no-one pays attention to until it breaks, the unimportant character who merely provides some iota of accessory plot development in a story. Pick your version of “insignificant”, I thought about it and threw myself a little Pity Party for One.

Why? I’ve had a bad sense of abandonment since I was a kid. I hated being left out of things. I’d hear about a great party that lots of people were invited to … but not me. Or was the last to be chosen for a baseball team. Or found out about a movie that friends went to without me, and wasn’t asked. And so on. I still have that problem, and I probably always will. I haven’t come to terms with it; I’ve become jaded, and even perhaps a bit bitter, too. But, it is what it is.

Now, maybe you can picture me being all bitter (stupidly so) and wanting to crawl back into bed and writing off my birthday entirely — I could and it was everything in my will to not actually do that. Leave it to the Monkey to improve the situation by changing the day’s schedule.

Alex and Monkey had spent the better part of a day making me a cake. (Alex had found a train-shape cake mould a couple of years ago, and I bore witness to it for the first time last year.) They’d baked it almost in secret (the mould was found in the sink, which tipped me off), and had taken it to the basement to decorate away from my prying eyes. To say that Monkey was excited about this cake is as much an understatement as saying that standing under Niagara Falls will get you a little damp. Alex referred to it as a “cake made with love”. And Monkey hauled it out at 10:30am because she simply couldn’t wait any longer for her Daddy to see it.

You couldn’t really recognise the train shape underneath the mashed, lumped, and smeared icing, or the zillions of candies and Bits ‘N Bites that encrusted the semi-circle of cake cars. The locomotive was green, and was proudly declared to be a manifestation of my favourite locomotive, CN 6060. Any critic would have regarded it at “hideous”. I looked at it, and immediately felt like an ass for feeling like ass. Sometimes, you need a kid to remind you that life is wonderful from nearly any angle.

The cake, for the record, was delicious. (Alex makes amazing baked goods. If I haven’t stated it before — though I’m sure I have — she makes my favourite cookies.) The fact that my family had gone to that extent for me really hit home the fact that no matter how bad I feel, they’re there for me. Always. It was definitely what I needed.

And my friends did come out for me — via the internet. (I think I might die without the awesomeness of social media, if for no other reason than for the plethora of birthday wishes.) From around the world, no less, which really makes it that much more awesome.

Although an original plan had us going out to Banff for a picnic (Parks Canada’s official 100th birthday party was also on Saturday), we opted for a nearer picnic at the park next to the primary school Monkey and Choo Choo will attend in the years to come. I made chicken sandwiches, cut some grapes, and grabbed some of the leftovers from the night before. Monkey wheeled her doll in her stroller, and we sat down to a wonderful little lunch.

One of the reasons we didn’t go to Banff was that we “had dinner plans”. This was another surprise Alex had lined up (have I mentioned that I like surprises?), and I couldn’t wait to see what was going to happen. When Janice (aka Grandma) arrived, we ducked out and (mostly) walked up to LeVilla, a nicely upscale restaurant in the West Market Square not far from the house.

I hadn’t ever actually planned on going to LeVilla, although Alex had assumed I did. Why? Well, last weekend — the only time we managed to do the Stampede pancake breakfast this year — LeVilla (wisely) distributed cards to everyone waiting in line. I pocketed it, not having any particular plan at the time, except possibly to follow up on it. Alex took it as “boy, would I ever like to eat there!” and looked into it. By happy circumstance, it was the best possible thing to happen.

Neither Alex or I can remember exactly the last time we had an adult meal at a nice restaurant without having to cut spaghetti for one of the kids. We suspect it was at Bacchus, which was a fairly nice restaurant in Santa Ana, a few kilometre from our condo in Costa Rica. I think it was either for Mother’s Day, or for Alex’s birthday. But it was one of the only times in recent memory. This meal was not only outstanding (seriously — Calgarians, check it out, you won’t be disappointed), it was worth every penny of the much-higher-than-we-normally-pay price.

My meal was prime rib. Although a little more done than I would have preferred (I like mine rare), I cannot remember the last time I had such an excellent piece of roasted beef, and Dad, I can finally say after many, many years that I’ve found a yorkshire pudding to rival yours. My slab was huge, I definitely ate too much, and it was worth every little twinge of mild discomfort.

Alex told me that she had hoped to pull off a three-event evening, starting with dinner, and ending with a trip out to the nightly fireworks at the Stampede (or more importantly, to see the fireworks near the Stampede). Mini-golf had been her goal for the middle event, but a fairly central mini-golf doesn’t seem to exist in Calgary, and going a long distance wasn’t really desirable. Bowling was a consideration, but eventually we just decided to take our time getting to the fireworks.

We got to Inglewood around 8:30 — easily two and a half hours before the fireworks would begin. So we drove through and around Inglewood, mostly just to see what was there (neither of us had really looked much beyond 9th Ave). Then we drove up into Ramsay to find a place to park.

The city had (wisely) cordoned off the streets on Scotsman’s Hill/Bluff (not sure what the correct name is) to residents only, so the streets wouldn’t be completely jammed with Stampeding crowds (there’s a handy set of stairs that go right into the grounds). We had to walk from a few blocks away, and up a fairly steep hill to get to the park. We were early enough that benches were still vacant, and the sun was setting behind the downtown core.

I always forget how nice a view it is from there, and really need to remind myself to go up there more often. We strolled over to a bench, sat down, and laid on the bug spray as thickly as we could. (We knew from a similar sojourn many years earlier that the mosquitos up there are near-epic in concentrations.) Then we sat down to wait.

Alex and I haven’t had such long sustained conversations in ages, without having been interrupted by our kids, anyway. There were, however, kids aplenty to offer distractions. Such as a pair of girls (I estimate at 5 and 8, respectively) who were operating a truly wonderful lemonade stand across the street from the park. They loudly and proudly announced their business and offered it readily to whomever was in need of refreshment. I simply couldn’t resist.

It’s the little things like that — the lemonade stand, and the great chat I’d had with the kids mother — which remind me why parts of Calgary are truly great. Give me the “inner city” any day — the vibrance of the communities remind me that it’s not just about having a roof over your head to sleep, it’s about being around your neighbours.

I snapped picture after picture as the sun set behind the downtown core. I don’t remember the last sunset Alex and I watched, although I’m willing to bet it was when we were living in Costa Rica (the fantastic sunsets were nearly daily). The clouds overhead created fantastic orange ripples, and a bright yellow glow seemed to burst from behind the Calgary Tower.

The Grandstand Show started, and we listened to the music in the distance, watching the tease of sporadic fireworks that accentuated the show. As the hour crept closer and closer to 23:00, more and more people began to arrive at the park. Kids in the pyjamas, couples with blankets, people with their pets, and even a guy with his bike who had clearly been fishing out cans and bottles from the garbage bins sat down to wait for the show.

Finally, the show hit its finale, and the lights went out to witness the pyrotechnic spectacle.

I love fireworks. I love the artistry that goes into them — not just the construction of a big shell, but the arrangement of a variety of them into a single segment of flashes and streams and bangs and thuds. I remember when we were kids, Dad would take us out on the lake to watch the Benson and Hedges Symphony of Fire at Ontario Place. We’d listen to the choreographed show over the radio, which played the music to which the fireworks danced. Although there was no music at the Stampede (really, I can’t figure why not), the show was nevertheless stupendous.

The fireworks were divided into three sequences (or so I heard), but we left shortly after the first one ended. The mosquitoes were bad, and it was late (we were tired). As it turned out, it was a good plan, since the sky was filling with its own flashes, which turned to heavy rain, hail, severe claps of thunder, which led to (we think) a short blackout in Mission. Not bad for one day…

Today, the Sunday, was pretty good, too. Choo Choo finally slept in a bit, and although Monkey and her were a bit loud in the morning, both Alex and I got some much-needed rest. Pancakes, then a bit of play time. We visited with our newest neighbours next door, who are reaching the end of a major renovation (they bought the house in March) and we’re still getting to know them. Monkey plays with their kids, ages 7 and 3, and I had gone over to retrieve her for lunch … and stayed for nearly 90 minutes chatting.

I love this neighbourhood. I wasn’t originally thrilled about moving here — I wanted to be closer to downtown, admittedly — but having such awesome people around really makes it hard to not want to know everyone.

Their kids came over after dinner, and we all played in the basement. I found out their daughter — the 7 year old — has a devious streak in her. (She tried, almost successfully, to cram an icepack down my shirt.)

So now I sit at my kitchen table, looking at the events of two days. Alex says I’ve been sighing a lot as I write this. I think it’s a good thing — they’re the moments that remind me that, yes, life may be periodically difficult, but it is those little moments that make it matter.

Thank you, my family, for making this a great weekend. Thank you for caring, for making me feel special, and being there for me every day. I love you all.

Not bad for only a little over 48 hours, eh?

It started Friday morning, which was Stampede Parade Day. The Calgary Stampede Parade is one of the largest in the world (I’ve heard it’s second, but have yet to hear what’s first, or the conditions under which that define its size), and has been a tradition in Calgary for close to a century. Now that you’re nearly four, it seemed like a good idea to take you to the parade so you could see it yourself, and not drive me insane by having a total loss of focus.

There’s only one catch with seeing the parade: you have to either have bench seating (acquired in advance, usually with paid tickets), or you get there early to get anywhere near a decent place to sit. Rather foolishly, I thought we had plenty of time leaving at 6:35am.

The lines had formed much earlier that morning (the people we sat next to — you remember them, right? They had the little white dog named “Cookie”? — arrived at 6:30 that morning and said all the front-line seats were long gone), and we were met with a sea of people as we crossed under the bridge into downtown.

My other grandiose plan was to stop at McDonald’s for breakfast, since we hadn’t the time to eat before we left the house. That line was equally as bad, and it meant that we either ate, or suffered through poor seating. Given the time we’d have to wait, I felt the the latter was more important. We had at least brought you some snacks, Monkey, so you wouldn’t be starving. I would have to go without…

We found a place, next to a wooden fence at the edge of the massive Impark lots on the south side of 9th Ave., that offered a fairly decent view of the route, and was not totally blocked by the scads of folding chairs that everyone else had (next time, I’ll remember to bring real chairs). And there we sat down and waited for something — well, anything — to happen.

It dawned on me rather suddenly that I had been sitting in almost the same place some 10 years earlier with Auntie Cathy and Uncle Craig (before they got married) to watch my first Stampede parade. I wouldn’t have imagined that 10 years later I’d be watching the Parade with my own daughter on my knee.

William and Kate, the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge — the future king of the United Kingdom and his wife (I’m not sure if she’ll be a “Queen” or a “Princess Consort” at that point) had been in Canada for the last couple of weeks on a whirlwind tour of the country (supposedly a “honeymoon” — Mommy and I have had some pretty whirlwind-type trips, but nothing that hectic), and were going to see the Stampede Parade, too. And before the Parade started, they would do a pass through the Parade route, themselves … in reverse. [Insert joke about driving on the wrong side of the road here.]

By 8:40, we were already fairly tired of waiting (and my ass already bruised from the hard ground and stones I had to sit on — you sat on me, I should add), but we were rewarded by the Royal Drive By (albeit far faster than anyone would have desired, and it was difficult to actually see the Royals — Kate was on our side of the car). Pretty much everyone clapped and cheered.

We didn’t really see much for another hour. Given our place on the route, that wasn’t entirely surprising, but it did seem a bit much, all things considered. Marching bands, clowns, and lots and lots and lots of horses. And a guy riding a bull (memories of Mel Brooks’ Blazing Saddles, indeed!). Our Mayor, Naheed Nenshi, rode a horse, too and seemed quite happy to do so. We saw Rick Hanson, who was the Parade Marshall for 2011 — he drove himself (hey, he drove himself around the world — a paltry couple of kilometres is nothing for him, right?). The biggest cheers were for the Canadian Armed Forces, notably the Army — almost everyone stood and cheered loudly for them. (One day, I’ll explain why, Monkey. That’s a very long topic, and pretty much entirely another blog post.) The quietest moments were when our faithful Ministers of Parliament drove past — the “Honourable” Rob Anders was met with embarrassed silence (guess what, Calgary, you aren’t allowed to be embarrassed — you voted for him, remember?).

Mommy met us at the Safeway downtown where we ran into two friends of mine: Evelyn, who I worked with for many years; and a childhood friend of mine, Neil, who also lives in Calgary. You then went home, and I went to work.

Yesterday, we went for our first (and possibly only) free pancake breakfast. The pancake breakfast is a tradition that has existed in Calgary for almost as long as the Stampede itself. It’s so rooted in tradition that when someone actually charges for a breakfast (and the money doesn’t go directly to charity), they get the stinkeye from just about everyone. People take their free breakfasts around here pretty seriously.

The Stampede Caravan runs a very efficient and very tight ship when it comes to pancakes. You, Choo Choo, and I walked up to the Sunterra, where the Caravan had set up their event. (We had gone last year, too, but I’m not sure if you remember that at all.) By the time we arrived, the parking lot was packed with people waiting for pancakes — they hadn’t yet started flipping them.) You declared you wanted to see the animals first, which seemed like a good idea, since we had to wait anyway.

Butterfield Acres was also there, just like last year, with pony rides and their portable petting zoo. Chicks, bunnies, goats, and lambs. You shrieked in eagerness, then raced in to give out hay to the goats, pet the bunnies, and be reminded several times not to pick up the chicks. (Choo Choo, you petted the lambs, which you loved, and the goats. You couldn’t really reach the bunnies, and we weren’t allowed to pick them up.)

Despite the several-hundred person-long line, it took a mere 15 minutes to get our pancakes. (Like I said, the Stampede Caravan runs a very efficient operation. They set the standard for how it should be done.) Your pancake, thanks to one very nice cook, was shaped like Mickey Mouse. We got our pancakes, found a curb to sit down, and dug in. Even Choo Choo inhaled her pancakes.

Afterwards, we went over to the pony ride, which I had promised. Just as you got into line to get on a pony, Erin and her friend arrived (which I had known about, but forgotten about). You love riding ponies, I’ve noticed — a far cry from the day we tried to get you on a pony in La Sabana Park in San José, when you cried in terror at the idea. It’s just a shame that you couldn’t go around more than once, though, and had to come out.

We went shopping for dinner afterwards, and “helped” by picking out chocolate milk, and deciding that we needed to take a pie as well (which you summarily dropped on the floor, forcing my hand to purchase it). Although you wrecked the pie (actually, a 9″ creme brulée), the Sunterra manager very kindly swapped it with a new one, reinforcing the reason why I prefer to shop there.

This morning, we were all going to go to the Stampede itself. It was Family Day at the Stampede, meaning there was free entrance to the park before 9:00, and a pancake breakfast for the first 20,000 people. You would think we could do that…

Choo Choo was against us, however, and woke up several times last night without going back to sleep. Eventually Mommy decided to stay up with her, letting you and I get a little more sleep. But I woke later than I’d wanted to, and Mommy was too tired to go (she has to work until midnight tonight), so it ended up being just you and me, and we didn’t get to the park until just after 8:00 … and about 1 minute after they ran out of tickets for the pancakes. Once again, Daddy was going hungry.

It also appeared that the Stampede hadn’t really opened yet, either. Most of the exhibits didn’t open until 9:00, with a number not opening until 10:00. That left us with … well, not to much to do. Thankfully, Mommy had the foresight to have me bring you something good to eat (although the Stampede has lots of food, most of it is … well, not exactly healthy). Down went an apple sauce, banana, and a heck of a lot of grapes. And you were still hungry.

We wandered through the BMO Centre and the Corral looking for the kids midway — something I thought would be a little easier for you to handle. Immediately, I felt nostalgic for the days when I was about your age, and my parents took me to the Canadian National Exhibition (“The EX” or the “CNE”) in Toronto. It was always the last hurrah of the summer, and the clown-faced logo of Conklin Shows is something I’ll not likely ever forget — something you’ll likely never know, either, since Conklin sold out to North American Midway Entertainment. It’s really not quite the same thing.

We picked up 12 tickets, which I figured would be good for three rides. I didn’t know what you’d like yet, and felt buying too much was a bad idea. First stop? The carousel. I know you love carousels — you’ve been on several, now — and you asked quickly for the “horsie ride”. Although not nearly as nice as the one in Heritage Park (a vintage machine that is infinitely more attractive, at least during the day) or the one at the zoo (zoo animals being a major plus), you loved being on it just the same.

Then, to my surprise, you asked to go on the “boat ride”. The “Rockin’ Tug” is a kid-friendly version of the classic Swinging (Pirate) Ship ride, except it sits on rails rather than being suspended from a massive hinge. And, unlike its larger sibling, the tug actually spins around.

I thought you’d chicken out. Really. Maybe I had a lower expectation, Monkey, given some of the things you’d said you wanted to do and changed your mind at the last second; or maybe I was even extending some of my fears from when I was your age. But you not only eager climbed up, you virtually stunned me by cheering and screaming “wheeeee!” the entire time. You’re hooked.

After that, we tried to get into SuperDogs. I emphasize “tried”, because the line to buy tickets (I wasn’t even aware that SuperDogs even needed tickets — my memory had always been that of a walk-in event) was almost as long as the line for pancakes.

So we had some of Those Little Donuts instead. Infinitely yummier, if you ask me.

We tried to find a petting zoo in the agricultural area. You’d think for an agricultural-based event, there’d be more kid-friendly things. But there was no petting area that we could see, no pig races, nothing even remotely fun for the kids. Just an endless stream of horses (even you got tired of them all), a few cows (surprisingly few for an agricultural-based event), and a bunch of miniature donkeys. We went back for rides, and got sidetracked by kettle corn (and for good reason).

We went back for another round on the carousel, and again went to the Rockin’ Tug. By this point, my lack of coffee/lack of real food/subjection to the extremely loud and annoying squeaky horns that every little kid seemed to have/lack of coffee (hey, trust me, it’s that serious) had finally caused a near epic-level headache to form. I couldn’t wear my hat, and having you on my shoulders was causing intense throbbing. I wasn’t sure we’d even survive a trip on the Wacky Worm without me losing what little not-really-lunch I had.  But you loved it — I remember being totally terrified of my first rollercoaster — and I got off with my dignity intact.

And then we had to go home. My head was threatening to explode. As it stands, I had to take two strong pills and crawl into bed for about 45 minutes before I could function again. “Next time”, I say now, knowing that I’m probably deluding myself.

I hope you had fun, kiddo. And Choo Choo, next year you’ll get a chance to go and have fun, too. But maybe during the week — this going on “Family Day” just equates to a little too much torture, methinks.

Even before we moved back to Canada (Alex knowing she was pregnant), she had started to plan her return to work. She wanted to do her job again, not just because it’s something she’d spent many years training for, and not just because it helps the family income-wise. It’s also a value aspect — anyone who’s had a job feels a certain amount of ownership and responsibility about what they do.

And besides, it gives her a chance to get away from the kids…

(Okay, I jest on that last one. Well, a bit — there is some truth to it. But it was a major consideration, too — what do we do with the kids? They had to go into daycare if this was going to work.)

Today, Alex completed her first week of paid, non-mom/non-house work in almost four years. This was a week that I was actually dreading for quite some time; I feared the chaos. Monkey has become quite the handful at times (especially with Alex and I), and Choo Choo’s now walking and in a very clingy stage where she refuses to let go.

Frankly, I expected this week to be abject hell. I expected that we’d have to order dinner almost every night, the kids would be confused as hell and downright unmanageable, that there’d be tonnes of stress, and I’d be wanting to sleep at the office. That’s what I expected.

Plan for the worst, hope for the best. Kicker is, I forgot to actually hope — I just planned, but not remotely as well as Alex did. She planned our meals, made sure dinners were made in advance, arranged for the daycare for the kids (I dropped off in the morning, she picked up in the afternoon; Alex’s mom will come on Fridays), and so forth. I probably worried more about myself than anything else; Alex had handled it all.

So here we are, end of that first epic week, and Alex was happy each and every day. No missed buses, no late starts, no tears except for when I handed Choo Choo over to the daycare (on her first day, there was an intense grabbing combined with something that sounded like JEZZUSCHRIPESDADWHATTHEHELLAREYOUDOING?! and a small river of cascading down her pudgy face. Monkey, on the other hand, disappeared almost instantly. I only knew she was in the daycare because I heard: “I found a doll!”

Alex, to her vast credit, made it look almost effortless, like it was a recipe she’d made dozens of time and rolled it out with no more effort than scrambling an egg. For someone who hadn’t turned an hour in a few years, it looked beyond old hat.

If nothing else, it’s a chance to remember that no matter how well you think you know someone, they can still surprise you. I’m proud of you hon, you continue to amaze me.

Mommy and I had been looking forward to today for a long time. We wanted your first birthday to be small, surrounded with just a few of us, making as much fuss as we could without completely overwhelming you. Today wasn’t really about you, so much as it was about us. You see, we’re actually kind of sad, today.

Why? Well, you’re no longer our baby girl. You’re grown up.

In the year that’s passed, an awful lot has happened. While I can’t say you’ve travelled as far as your sister (who’d seen four countries before she was a year old), or have as many teeth (she had more than six; your third tooth has yet to pop through), you’re easily as tall as her, and you’ve been walking around on your own — Monkey was still a week from that. You’ve come a long way, kid.

This is a bit of a hard day for Mommy and I. By most definitions, you’re no longer an infant — no longer our baby — you’re a toddler. You’re toddling. You’re growing, despite all of our wishes that you remain forever small, forever ours.

It started early, just after 6:00, when you woke up, cooing in your crib. I brought you to Mommy, softly singing “Happy Birthday” to you. I didn’t see you again until just before I left for work, giving you a kiss on the head.

When I came home, you were awake and playing, and make that “GAH!” sound you frequently do, and panted quickly for a moment, which appears to be your current way of saying “Daddy” (or at least “someone I recognise”). We played while Mommy worked on your birthday cake.

Mommy made you snowmen cupcakes. (I really want to take credit for the idea, but Mommy really make it all her own — she did a fantastic job!) They were yummy chocolate cupcakes with a sugar icing on them, with chocolate arms, a candied papaya nose, and a gumdrop hat (you didn’t eat the gumdrop, the arms, or the nose, by the way). Your snowman came with a candle in the shape of a “1″ — the very same candle Monkey had on her cake for her first birthday.

Grandpa and Granny came out from Ruskin for the party (Grandpa having taken the bus, in an effort to reduce his carbon footprint), and Grandma came over later in the afternoon. You didn’t have a nap in the afternoon, so it was a bit of a question to see how’d you do with exhaustion.

We did presents first. You got a Fisher Price Little People barn with a variety of animals, a walker/ride-on cart, some bath toys, crayons, some clothes, and Mommy knit you a little stuffed pig. You wanted to play with the torn pieces of wrapping paper … of course.

You were the first to get your snowman, brought to you with candle alit. You poked it tentatively at first, but them pretty much dived right in. It wasn’t quite the level of cake carnage your sister had unleashed nearly over three years ago, and we didn’t give you ice cream to amp up the messiness, but you still required a bath afterwards. You decimated the cake, filling your hands with chocolate cake and icing.

Although your sister took to the sugary dessert like a flame to gasoline, your lack of a second nap seemed to take you down fairly quickly. (Although I should point out that — as of this writing — you’ve woken up twice since going to bed, likely due to teething.) And thus ended your first birthday.

So happy birthday, my little one. May all those yet to come be far more memorable, and filled with all the best memories.

I had to convince Alex. It’s a two hour drive, which means potentially ineffective naps and not eating ideally (even if we take all the food with us, it’s selective due to limited space). The weather played well in our favour, but it was still a long way to go. But I apparently made my case well, as we got ourselves up early, got our things together, and headed out the door around 9:30 this morning.

Today was one of those days when you really have to remember that I should never be the one making plans…

The drive out to Lake Louise was pretty nice. Unlike our last trip, where Alex was clinging onto the armrests for dear life (the wind combined with blowing snow was a little on the freaky side), the sun was bright until we got to the mountains, and the snow seemed to be falling only far above us. The worst we had was some moronic driver in a Ford Flex who seemed content to pass me, suddenly veer right in front of me, and then slow down.

Oh, and having to listen to Monkey’s Spanish pre-school music CD about ten times while in the car. I still can’t get the music for “The Ants Go Marching In” (“Las hormigas en marchando van”, I believe) out of my head.

Things seemed to be going just beautifully … right up until we pulled off at the Lake Louise exit and saw 20 other cars ahead of us in the off-ramp. I’ve never seen that many cars in front of me before in an off-ramp. Anywhere. Ever. I’m not entirely sure if I said “uh oh” aloud.

Sure enough, the Ice Magic Festival draws a crowd. A big one. The multiple parking lots up at the Lake itself were now full, and a small flotilla of people were diverting cars just off the highway into parking lots. We were #3 in the lot we pulled into. By the time we got out of the car, some 10 minutes later (Kate needed a feeding), the lot was nearly full.

From the lot to the Lake? Five kilometres. Once upon a time, I’d have walked it. Maybe even in the winter. With a 3 year-old and an infant? Not a chance. Thankfully, there were shuttle buses. But because there were buses meant that we had to carry less … Alex and Monkey couldn’t go skating on the lake, now, since we didn’t to lug sharp things around like that. Nor could we bring our stroller, since it was too big for the bus — I had to carry Choo Choo in the Baby Bjorn. (My back still hates me — Choo Choo’s not as light as she used to be.)

So we trundled over to the stop to wait for the shuttle bus. The stop already had an hour’s worth of people. (Keep in mind that just as we got off the highway was when the Lake lot was closed.) The buses were small and running not nearly frequently enough. After a quick conversation with the attendant, we opted to go find the kids’ activities, including the “Little Chippers”.

The activity (note the singular) was an ice-sculpting “contest” where every kid who participated won a prize (extremely egalitarian, I must say), which was a little stuffed husky dog. We opted to get Monkey sunglasses first, which she needed rather badly, then went in search of lunch — a $6.50 pot pie (overpriced, but thankfully tasty) along with a cold cornish pasty — then went back to the Little Chippers.

The Little Chippers was a rather simple premise: give kids a block of ice about the size of a phonebook, and an ice pick that looked a little like a wide and rather menacing fork. Chip away until you have something reasonable, show it to the attendant, and get a stuffed animal. (Given some of the finished pieces, I think “reasonable” was a fairly low bar to get over.)

Monkey took a bit to get into it, and seemed only to stab at her ice with a similar zeal she normally reserved for dinner — which is to say, virtually none. It took a bit of coaxing before she finally let loose and managed to make a few marks. It wasn’t until Alex “helped” by chipping out the shape of a heart that Monkey seemed to get the hang of it. The final product was more reasonable than most, and — I think — worthy of the dog.

It also came with a couple of coupons — a coffee for mommy or daddy (Alex, in our case), and a hot chocolate and a cookie for the child in question (not me). We acquired our winnings, and then headed back towards our car. The plan, now that the shuttle line had grown to nearly two hours (and even with running much larger buses, more frequently), was to drive up to the Lake lot, run over to the ice castle, take a picture, and run back to the idling car.

Yes, for those of you who know Lake Louise well, this was a dumb idea. But for me, who’d forgotten, this was an act of desperation. I was facing four hours of driving, and I was beyond ticked with how the day had evolved. I’d spent most of it in the car, in a restaurant with overpriced (albeit reasonable tasty) food, with a 20-ish pound deadweight strapped to my chest that was pulling my back out of whack.

I was being rather miserable. I’m amazed that Alex puts up with me when I’m like that…

Surprisingly, no-one tried to stop us as we turned up the road towards the Lake. Instead, it was a short drive up the windy road, and a quick half-figure-eight around the lot before we found a spot … at the far end. By this point, we were also dealing with a now-spilled hot chocolate, which had soaked and (potentially) stained Monkey’s coat and pants. “Grumbling” is far from what was going through my mind. Alex, as always, was the calm eye of the storm. Choo Choo had fallen asleep.

While Alex remained in the car, Monkey (planted up on my shoulders) and I trucked over to the lake as quickly as I could walk. Not surprisingly, the paths were filled with a seemingly non-stop onslaught of people not paying attention, and attempting to take pictures hoping the throngs would notice their plight, take pity, and stop walking for five seconds. Basically, too many people and not enough brains…

The ice castle sat on a cleared space of ice that formed the public skating rink in front of the Chateau Lake Louise. I wished, rather dearly, that we hadn’t been in a rush. There were horse rides, which Monkey begged to go on, stands selling hot beverages that I had no money for (my wallet was in the car), and the skating rink looked like so much fun.

Snap, snap, Monkey stand here … no, there… stop moving… look over here, please… here…. OVER HERE! Snapsnapsnapsnap. Ah, good enough! Monkey, come here! Let’s go!!

Fifteen minutes from when we left the car, we were back and loaded up. Back down the hill, onto the highway, and back east towards Calgary, my lower back pulsing, my shoulders cramped, my neck and lower back of my skull oozing with a dull throbbing. I can only hope that someone had fun on this little idiotic idea of mine.

Next year? We’re going to watch videos on YouTube, instead…

2010 was the year we made contact … wait, sorry, wrong catchline. 2010 was the year my family welcomed new members, notably my youngest, a daughter (code)named Choo Choo. It was a year I changed my career outlook (yes, again), and found that I’m not (completely) useless. This was a year of family, for me, and that’s perhaps the most important aspect.

But despite all that, I hesitate to call it “a year of change”.

Got me as to why, though. Let’s be honest, there were a lot of changes, not the least of which are the ones noted above. But at no time did I feel like this is a sudden (and possibly unwanted) shift in my life. It actually feels like things are more settled this year, despite the apparent upheaval, than in previous years. Maybe one day I’ll make some sense of that little quandary.

In the meantime, let’s review 2010:

• Began the year with tea at the Banff Springs, seeing my friend Sonny for the first time in about 15 years
• Started working with some old friends at a new(er) company, Evans Hunt
• Went to Edmonton for a “surprise” weekend (mostly for Monkey) and spent a great morning in the waterslides with her
• Celebrated my Nana’s 97th birthday, which would also sadly be her last
• Found out that I’m K+, my kids are K+, and my wife is anti-K
• Spent many a sleepless night worrying about Choo Choo before she was born
• Though originally disheartened, came to love and be thrilled by the 2010 Winter Olympics in Canada, and felt the massive pride for the successes of our athletes
  • Yes, I Twittered obsessively during the Men’s Hockey gold medal game
• Bought our first flat-screen TV, to go along with our Apple TV
• Welcomed my youngest, (code)named Choo Choo to our world
• Watched Monkey’s first Easter egg hunt
• Found out I’ve got something called “narrow angles” in my eyes, and got laser surgery in both of them
• Went to Drumheller, and visited the Royal Tyrell
• Guided (albeit not as well as I could have) the technical launch of my first all-Drupal website: VisitCalgary.com
• Experienced the abject terror of losing your child in a mall
• Said “thank you” to my Nana — I never say “goodbye”
• Went on my first train chase with Monkey
• Went to dim sum a couple of times, but not nearly enough
• Introduced Monkey to sushi — I think she likes it
• Went to Heritage Park a couple of times, and even saw Thomas the Tank Engine (hey, I’m a parent and I like trains, it’s a win-win)
• Went to the Zoo lots (it helps to have a pass)
• Saw a few movies, but not enough for my liking (the favourite of the year was Toy Story 3, and no, not just because I’m a parent)
• Went on the first Great Family Roadtrip:
  • Overnighted in Medicine Hat, AB; Whitewood, SK; Moosimin, SK; and Swift Current, SK
  • Went to Winnipeg
  • Went to some place east of Camper, out in the middle of nowhere, as part of Alex’s family reunion
  • Stopped off in Regina, Moose Jaw, and Portage La Prairie
  • Drove the whole way and back again, and the kids didn’t seem to mind at all
• Got diagnosed with a hernia (yay, me)
• Celebrated Monkey’s 3rd birthday, her first in Canada (beyond the day she was born, that is)
• Finally got right ticked off with Shaw’s horrid home internet service, and switched over to Telus … we’ll see how it all goes
• Did some kitchen renovation:
  • Installed a new sink and tap
  • Tore out the Florida ceiling
  • Installed new lighting
• Had new windows installed in the house
• Returned to being a developer, rather than a pure manager (I’m still adjusting to this one)
• Took Monkey out on her first real Hallowe’en
• Grew a moustache for Movember (my first, and last time)
• Went to the Currie Barracks location of the Calgary Farmer’s Market almost every weekend for a year, until the location finally (and sadly) closed in December
• Went on our first family flight out to Abbotsford, to spend Christmas in BC
• Visited with some old friends from Radical Entertainment
• Went to downtown Vancouver for the first time in about five years, and remembered how much I love it there
• Had my first green Christmas in many, many years
• Didn’t ride nearly enough trains

Whoof. That’s a lot for one year. Can’t wait to see what 2011 throws at me. Bring it, New Year — I’m ready for you!

This is our “new” tradition. Mommy and I decided it would be tradition after having such a wonderful time with my old friend Sonny, having afternoon tea. Suddenly, it seemed just perfect to have tea every New Year’s Day. The question now, of course, is where to have tea. Last year, it was at the Banff Springs Hotel. This year, mostly for simplicity, we did the same.

Next year? Well, that’s a whole 364 days of Anything-Can-Happen!

Despite the fact that Mommy and I stayed up to midnight to ring in the New Year (something we hope you’ll start doing with us in the years to come), rising this morning was … well, surprisingly painful. Somewhere along the line, I’d slept “funny” and right screwed up my right shoulder. (It still hurts, some 14 hours later.) That’s about when Mommy and I definitively decided we weren’t just going to New Year’s Tea — we were also going to the Hot Springs for a soak.

Bundled into the car, we pulled out of Calgary just before 10:30. It was a bit later than we wanted, but it still gave us time before our 13:00 tea time. Or it would have been more time, had it not been for the blowing snow…

Somewhere past Ozada, I began to notice the wind. Until today, I’d never personally come across the problem of our mostly-trusty Jetta having issues with the wind. But it was getting buffeted, not really sliding or drifting (as my Mini was sometimes prone to) so much as feeling the shoves. Added to that was the snow the wind was kicking up. It wasn’t whiteout conditions, but I quickly found myself with one eye searching for the lines on the road and the other eye on the idiots around us content to pass at what I considered unsafe speeds given the weather conditions. I think Mommy was worried enough for all of us.

The wind and snow was all gone by the time we’d passed Dead Man’s Flats, and we were soon at the Banff Park gates, getting our new annual pass. (We didn’t go into the mountains enough in 2010. That’s something Mommy and I intend to rectify this year.) Some 20 minutes later, we were unloading from the car in the Upper Hot Springs parking lot.

Now, Monkey, you and I are of the same blood — neither of us are particularly fanatic about hot water. As for you, Choo Choo, you and Mommy seem to enjoy it quite a lot. I know the water there today wasn’t hot enough for Mommy. It was only 38 degrees; Mommy prefers something around 42 degrees. But it was just right considering the outside temperature was -16 … and not counting the windchill.

The soak felt good, and we marvelled at the steam freezing to our heads. Swimming through the thick steam was sometimes like wading through a dream, having people and details seem out of reach until you get close and the details come clear.

One advantage of the hot water is that we tend not to notice the cold so much on our way back to the car. We were a few minutes late for our tea time, but the Rundle Lounge was mostly empty, only two other tables already occupied. We were seated in almost the same place we sat last year.

The service, admittedly, was not up to par for Fairmont, and I was a bit surprised. There were only two people serving about 15 tables, and they seemed pulled in too many directions. Always professional, but sometimes hard to get their attention, and it took a while to get a second pot of tea. But nothing to prevent us from going back next year.

I must say, Monkey, you made me very, very proud today. Although you were fidgety (let’s keep in mind that you are only three years old), you behaved absolutely wonderfully! You didn’t scream or whine (as you are frequent to do at home), you ate very nicely, and compared to the five year old at the table next to us, you were a perfect angel. Clearly, Mommy must be teaching you well, ‘cuz y’ain’t learning none of this from me…

We left just after 15:00, and were heading out of town before 15:30. Both of you were dead asleep before we’d even passed through downtown Banff.

Once again, it was a wonderful way to spend New Year’s Day. I hope next year is even better, since you’ll be able to try all of this stuff, too, Choo Choo. Until then, I wish you both the happiest of dreams.

And maybe let Mommy and Daddy sleep in tomorrow? Please?

That’s something, incidentally, that you and your sister will never really fully grasp, I think. You’re the first generation where digital cameras are ubiquitous, and almost your entire first few years will be documented nearly daily. It wasn’t that way when Mommy and I grew up, and I can only imagine what your kids will say.

I suppose, as a result, you won’t be able to say your first Christmas wasn’t eventful.

I won’t go into the details of our trip to Grandpa and Granny’s (just read the previous few entries), but there are a few things that perhaps are worth mentioning about yourself.

First, you’re starting to nap during the day. Until about a month ago, you refused to sleep — refused with a capital SCREAM. You’d have nothing to do with it. You still put up a fight every now and then, but generally when you go down for a sleep, you actually sleep, and it’s gone from quarters of hours into hours. That makes both Mommy and I very happy. Not just for your own health, of course, but because it means some peace around the place while you and your sister are snoozing. (Like, say, right now!)

Second, you’re vocalising a lot more these days. I think there was a time when you might have been scared to because Monkey was always and omnipresent and overpowering force. Of course, I still hold that when you cry, you can EASILY drown out Monkey at her loudest. (This is a test, incidentally, that I have no desire to actually execute. My ears couldn’t handle it.) But you’re chatting away quite a lot now, even when we’re not in in the room.

That’s an important point, too, I might add. You’re also getting to the point where you don’t need Mommy as much as you did (she can leave the room without you panicking), you find me a comforting presence (thank you for that, by the way, I was beginning to think I was useless in your eyes), and you can even stand being around strangers for a while without worrying where you parents have vanished to. You’re not nearly as stranger-friendly as Monkey, though, and maybe that’s a good thing. That said, you didn’t mind seeing Santa one bit, whereas we had to coax Monkey to even get near him.

You’ve got two teeth right now, both on the bottom and both extremely sharp, and we’re certain more are coming. You’ve been drooling almost non-stop for nine months, which is often a sign of tooth movement. Nothing new yet, but we might yet see one for New Year’s.

As for movement, you’re still pretty stationary. You’re able to sit on your own without trouble, and can roll back-to-front and vice versa. You can’t sit up yet on your own, though. Standing is okay, but you look like you’re doing the hula. Jumping is good, provided you’re in the Jolly Jumper. But no crawling. You might yet follow in Monkey’s footsteps (no pun intended) and walk before you crawl. We’ll need to get you some squeaky shoes.

You’re 3/4 of the way through your first year, and despite all the troubles we had getting you out the door, you’ve shown no signs that there were any troubles to begin with. That is, without doubt, the biggest Christmas present a father can receive (especially considering the panic we went through nearly a year ago).

I hope you’ve had a great first Christmas, Choo Choo — I look forward to many, many more with you in the years to come.

Jean very kindly (extremely kindly? suicidally kindly?) went down this morning, in the cold and the rain, to line up and get tickets for the “best possible” time for us to ride, around 17:30. That is “best” as it’s early enough that we can still have dinner at a reasonable time, and it’s late enough that Nikki can join us from her job.

Tonight, I also remembered how miserable Vancouver can be in the winter.

It rained all day, and the temperature never got above 4 degrees. It could be easily argued that, despite being colder, Calgary has much nicer weather. That rain makes a lot of difference. So it was that, in the rain, we all trucked into Vancouver and found our way into Stanley Park, and parked near the miniature train area.

You couldn’t miss it if you were blinded, locked in a box, and put inside a cargo van. Someone said there were over two million lights, and I could believe it. I’ve never seen so many lights, and the Calgary Zoo Lights go a long way to make a push for “most lights”. If Zoo Lights went for the density seen at Bright Nights, Stanley Park’s version, over the same area that it uses now, I think the Calgary Zoo could be visible from space.

Despite the rain, we wandered about the lights while waiting our ticketed time. Some of the items, notably a rocking stand of lighted nutcrackers, are old and probably well-predate me. Most of the lights, however, are LED and considerably more recent (not to mention energy efficient — important when you’re using two million lights). It’s a hodge-podge of lights, and worth the trip around while waiting your turn at the train.

I’d been on it once many years ago (1999, I think), though I remember little of it now. (There’s much of 1998-early 2000 that is foggy, for a number of reasons.) I’m fairly certain, however, that I had gone on a rainless evening, as there was no way I could forget how miserably cold and damp one feels while waiting to get on the train.

I had pushed into the line, dragging Alex and the kids with me, thinking that we had a defined slot at which to board. As it turned out, I’d misunderstood the purpose of the times — merely to stagger the arrivals, and not to dictate a specific start time. As such, I got us into line before Nikki had even arrived, and the plan had always been to ride as a family. Alex, the kids, and I ended up jumping out of line on the station platform, waiting for the others to catch up.

They were running three trains that night, so the line went surprisingly quickly. Each of the trains carried upwards of 50 people, and the trains arrived and departed about every five minutes. Although we had to wait nearly a half hour for the others to catch up, it somehow didn’t seem too awkward. (We were, at least, under shelter.)

The train is small, and you have to be careful getting on. Alex clocked her head rather badly on the car’s roof, and I felt like a sumo wrestler trying to get on with Choo Choo strapped to my front, and the diaper bag on my back. (Choo Choo would not like the ride much at all, as I think she was rather hungry and not getting what she wanted.) And then we were off, listening to the dulcet tones of Anne Murray.

The lights were strewn about the train’s route, which is a 10-12 minute course. Some of the areas were decorated with Christmas-themed scenes, some religious and most not (including, no joke, a set from SCTV’s Great White North, with a track from Bob and Doug’s album blaring over the speakers as we passed — I couldn’t resist a few “coo-loo-coo-coo-coo-LOO-COO-COO” refrains, myself).

By far the most impressive part was when we exited the “national” tunnel (with black light diagrams of every province) into the “Niagara” area (which doesn’t have anything to do with the Falls) and saw lights draped over every square centimetre of ground, tree, and shrub. That area alone must’ve taken weeks to set up, and the payoff was fantastic.

Despite the relatively slow speed, the cold, damp air made for a chilly ride, and we were none to upset when we finally reached the end of the line. Carefully disembarking, we hurried back to our cars, and drove off towards Gastown. Part 2 of the evening, notably dinner, was meant to be at the Old Spaghetti Factory.

Sadly, that was the least thought out part of the plan, and we found a 140 minute-long wait instead. Nikki, working near the Gastown area, suggested Vallarta, a nearby Mexican restaurant as a backup. No wait whatsoever, and we were soon eating.

But the kids were going down. Choo Choo had already been extremely upset about waiting to eat while on our way to Gastown, and Monkey was trending into the “wired from being up too late” zone. We made an effort to eat quickly so we could head back home.

Back at the Aicken farmstead, the fireplace was stoked, warm clothes were donned, and hot drinks consumed to help warm us up from the penetrating cold we all seemed to feel. Tomorrow is plan-less, save for the Christmas Eve activities.

I’m excited to be this close to Christmas. Not for the obvious reasons: I know I’m not getting the things on my list. But I am getting to watch this year’s festivities through my kids, which is definitely something to look forward to.

So Jean arranged for us all (having to buy tickets being a big factor) to visit Santa in his own home, and witness a bit of a behind-the-scenes approach to Christmas.

Even if, y’know, it’s above zero, all green, and the only snow to be seen is on the mountains…

Timberline Ranch, a “non-denominational Christian” horse camp for kids runs the event, which is located at the very north of the Maple Ridge District, past the end of the paved roads, and pretty much right at the foot of the coastal mountains. It was about a 45 minute drive, not counting the time we had to wait for a grader to finish smoothing out a section of the aforementioned unpaved road.

It’s hard to miss the decorative “North Pole, BC” sign awaiting all at the gates. The North Pole bus stop awaits just after the parking lot, and almost immediately you’re met by elves. (The “elves” are high school and university students, dressed in appropriately festive and elvish red-and-white stripped tights, with red and green frocks.) They check you in, and then — much like a bus ride — you wait for your scheduled departure.

They group together several families, and you travel in a group. First stop? The gift shop, oddly enough. That one puzzled me a bit — you typically exit through a gift shop, not enter. (For the record, we exited a by walking down a path.) Form there, up a pathway, past the “elf wishing tree” to the Post Office. (The various buildings were actually bunks used for summer camps, heavily decorated to be something else.) There we all hustled in to await the first pseudo-event.

Monkey, it seems, had far too much for breakfast, and the three helpings of porridge were weighing heavily on her belly, causing her to declare that she was “bored” and “tired”. (Alex and I quickly declared that one serving of porridge would be enough in the future.)

The elf running the post office first had the kids (ranging in age from only a couple of months up to about age five) find a couple of letters that had been “misplaced”. Then the kids got to have their letters “approved” for mailing (placed on a scale to determine if they asked for too much), before being trucked back outside and have the letters put in the mail.

The second stop was the Elvern School of Secrets, where the only male elf in the group (which we would later find out was a theatrical student — a complete non-surprise given his very over-the-top performance) gave the audience a three-step lesson in being an elf. I can’t tell you about that, though, I’m sworn to secret. Though I can say that poor grandpa got suckered into reciting the oath while on one knee.

Then it was off to one of the elves’ favourite activities: ice fishing. In lieu of frozen water was well-carved styrofoam and magnetic fish. Every kid got a chance.

Next up was the toy workshop, where the slave labour portion of the tour kicked in. (You think Santa makes all these toys himself??) Every kid got the emptied fabric shell of a white bear, and was encouraged to fill it with stuffing, and bring it up to the “head elf” to be registered. (The bears were later for sale, wrapped, with the child’s name already attached.) Then it was into Mrs. Claus’ cabin for storytime.

Finally, it was time for the Big Man himself. This is where I really have to hand it to the North Pole, BC operation. Considering this is supposedly a first-year operation, it’s handled as professionally and smoothly as a Disney experience. (Someone’s done their research!) There are actually two Santas at work, both secreted in cabins such that the kids don’t know that there’s two of them, and each family has actual private time with Santa, rather than having to feel like the typical mall assembly-line.

To accomplish this, the group was divided, and two families (including ours) were whisked away to “Club Eggnog”, a little play area in the basement of the main ranch building, to play while waiting our turn. Monkey seemed to get more and more excited to see Santa, but I harboured the suspicion this was all bravado. When we’d gone to the Santa in Chinook Mall a couple of weeks ago, she’d bailed at the last second and only Choo Choo had sat on Santa’s lap. Still, Monkey raced up the stairs, and ran ahead of us as we went to see Santa.

But as the door opened, the “wait a second” look crossed her face, and suddenly she didn’t want to go in. (Called it…) But with a little gentle coaxing, and a promise to hold a hand, we managed to get her to at least enter the cabin. By then, Santa, clearing having seen this dozens of times, helped Monkey into the cabin, and ultimately to sit down with him. From there, she was fine, and freely told Santa her life story (as well as what she wanted for Christmas — thankfully, Jessie remained on the list).

We did a quick round of pictures, one with just the kids, then with the parents, and finally the grandparents. Monkey waved goodbye, said “thank you”, and we headed back outside.

We had lunch in the cafe (on the main floor above Club Eggnog), before heading off for a pony ride, which Monkey had been promised. The sky was darkening quickly (it seems to get darker here in Maple Ridge earlier than it does in Calgary), and we headed home after Monkey had a couple of laps around the riding barn.

Both kids were asleep before we got to central Maple Ridge.

Shortly before Alex and I were married, we moved to a house a mere 10 minute walk from the Market, so we visited frequently. After our return from Costa Rica, going to the Market became a weekly event, to the point where we got to know some of the Market vendors fairly well.

Because we fly out to Abbotsford tomorrow, today was our last day. We just about cried.

Seriously! No, I’m not taking this lightly! The Market, as it stood, was (at least in my humble view) the best example of a farmer’s market in Calgary, and was the only thing that served the west side of the city, or offered any reasonable option to a large portion of the north part of the city, too.

The Market isn’t disappearing from Calgary, but relocating to another venue off of Blackfoot Trail. Not all the vendors are going. Some are hanging their hats, deciding that it’s time to move on, and it appears the once-lauded children’s space is likely to wither to a mere echo of a whisper of its former grandeur. Mike, the Balloon Tycoon, is one who will not be seen at the new location.

The distance away likely means we will not be visiting regularly, and without a children’s space for Monkey and Choo Choo, it means there is less of a reason for us to go. For that distance, we might as well go just the little bit further and go to IKEA instead.

But this is how life goes, right? Change? Things not remaining the same?

Thank you, CFM, for the years you were the way you were. Those are memories that I am already thankful for, and I can only hope they’ll be ones that my kids might remember, too.

A year ago tonight, my family returned to Canada from Costa Rica. We had lived abroad for a year and a half, and had done our best to make a go of a new life in a new country. But it wasn’t to be, and we finally came to the reality that we had to move back home.

So, a year ago, we packed up a highly uncomfortable hour of the morning, boarded our airplane, and spend nearly 16 hours travelling north. We arrived late in the evening, with an irate kitty, to the most amazing -18C weather I’d ever felt. Within days, we’d tried to reinsert ourselves into a society that we’d — at last in some part — tried to forget.

A year later, I’m starting to forget that we ever left.

Don’t get me wrong. I have the memories. I have a few thousand pictures (remember, this is me we’re talking about). My life changed quite a lot when I get back. We had to relearn to live like Canadians in our own country — while you might try to retain your identity when you’re somewhere else, eventually your habits change. And yes, there was reverse culture shock.

A lot happened since then, not the least of which was the arrival of our second daughter. During the last year, I’ve looked back at the things I’ve done, both here and in Costa Rica, and tried to reconcile my present. It’s not as easy as it sounds, and more and more I’m having to remind myself that I did actually live somewhere else, that it was actually a dream that came true.

Just prior to leaving Costa Rica, I felt fairly bitter. I was disillusioned, having long-held the view that living in a tropical country was a wondrous fairy tale. I felt that I hadn’t lived that dream fully, the needs of my life seemingly having stolen the preciousness of the moments. For a time, people telling me they were jealous of my experience were usually met with a somewhat brutal response, where I dashed their dreams as harshly as I had felt my own destroyed.

The kicker is, I knew that would happen. I knew that I would be far more negative than I really should. I knew damn well that it had been an experience I will likely never be able to experience again in my life. I knew that the things that I viewed as sub-par were still far better than others ever got to experience. I knew that despite my supposed troubles, there would always be others jealous of my opportunity.

Today, a year later, I finally feel nostalgic — a  ”time heals all wounds” sort of thing. I’m able to see past the trouble, and focus on the good. In effect, I’m able to finally live up to a personal favourite adage: it’s all worth it if you come away with a good story. I can safely say that I’ve got some great ones, and they start from virtually the very first day we arrived in the country.

Way up here in the Great White North, I have something else to be proud of. For the first time in a very, very long time, I finally feel like I have a home. Not just a place to live, but a place where I feel comfortable, where things seem to make sense, where I feel I have a chance to form roots. My last nearly-20 years have been pockmarked with moving between houses, cities, provinces, and countries, changing lifestyles, and growing families. This year — this last year — seems somehow more formative than any year I can remember in a long time. It holds hope, it holds promise, and allows me to consider the future far more brightly than I could have hoped.

And that’s a Good Thing™.

There are times when
I wish you could feel
The aching of my heart
And know why it is so

There are times when
I see your sense of wonder
And for a brief moment
I feel it, too

There are times when
We hold each other tight
The universe stops
And there’s only us

There are times when
I wish
I had a different job
We had a different house
Lived somewhere idyllic
Had no wants nor cares
Where we lived in our reality
And fantasy was the world beyond

But we don’t

There are times when
I cannot be with you
And the moments apart
Ring of eternity

There are times when
I see you seeing me
And all I want
Is an eternity with you

There are times when
I could kill
Or be killed
Knowing that you would live

And then there are times
Like this
That I think about it all
And love you ever still

But tomorrow is the first weekday after Labour Day (which is today), and it means that we must part again. In a few years, it will mean you have to go to school. For me, it means going back to work.

In a way, they’re pretty similar…

When Mommy and I sort of figured out this deal almost a year ago, the original goal was for me to take a month off shortly after Choo Choo was born. But the dates were moved as other events seemed to align with our desires. Hence our trip to Winnipeg, and our most recent week at Fairmont Hot Springs. It’s meant a lot of time for me to be with you, to do things, to watch you grow, to hold you when you’re sad and to applaud you at the things you’ve learned.

When I tucked you into bed tonight, Monkey, I told you that I had to go back to work tomorrow, that I wouldn’t be with you every day anymore. I saw the look of profound sadness on your face. Not the sadness of when you fall down, or when you don’t get your way (which is often, I might add), but the realisation that I won’t always be there.

I think that was a painful moment for both of us. You looked at me, and said quietly, “I love you, daddy”, and then you kissed me. It’s a moment I hope to remember for as long as I live. Not because of the pain, but for the spontaneous emotion — real emotion. I will miss being with you all day, Monkey. I hope you know that.

Of course, this also means I’m going to miss more milestones with you, Choo Choo. Mommy had hoped today that you would start rolling on your own. Sadly, it didn’t come to pass. But it will, and likely when I’m not around. Your first tooth is coming in. You’re going to be sitting up on your own. Your first word. And the odds are against me that I’ll be around for your first steps. I hope I will see these things, but I have to accept that I’ll learn of them from Mommy.

The entire month with you, dear wife, has been a gift I won’t soon forget, for it may be a long time until we can experience something like this again. I hope I have lived up to whatever dreams or notions you had for this time off, that it turned out — at least in some way — like you had envisioned.

Sleep well, my darlings three. And know that I love you all, and miss you each minute I’m not with you.

That, and two cups of coffee, of course…

Although Swift Current was inundated with fog when we got up, the sun had burned its way through before we hit the road for Alberta. The sky didn’t look threatening, but there was enough doubt there to suggest we might see some rain along the way. As I stands, the only things that hit the windshield today were bugs.

A curious thing I’ve noticed about Saskatchewan, and I’d love to know the reason for it. East of Swift Current, there are lots of little towns scattered along the Trans Canada (keeping in mind that the Trans Canada more-or-less follows the route of the Canadian Pacific mainline, which was how people got out here in the first place way back when). West of Swift Current, however, there ain’t much. It’s almost a void. It could because the terrain transforms from grasslands to scrublands, and eventually to badlands. Even parts of Alberta were settled only when Canadian Pacific built a water viaduct through Brooks to bring water to an otherwise desolate area.

A little over two hours after leaving Swift Current, we passed across the border into Alberta. Oddly enough, I felt really good about that, even though we still had over three hours to get to Calgary. We were still far from home.

We shot through Medicine Hat, and turned into the town just east of it called Redcliff. Mommy’s friend Marnie lives there, and she’d dropped a hint (through Facebook — I wonder if it’ll still be around when you get around to reading this) that we should stop in on our way back. Marnie was pregnant with her third baby at the same time Mommy was pregnant with Choo Choo, so there was some desire to meet the newborns.

Monkey, we didn’t see much of you. You played with Marnie’s two older daughters. Sadly, I think this officially turned you into a little girl, too. Until now, Mommy and I have done our best to try and butch you up. You have a grand total of two dresses … one of which was actually a gift for Choo Choo, but you fit it (until recently, anyway). But you discovered the joy of dress-up, and ran around as a princess. You were beyond happy, so much so I’m certain you were sad to leave. But we had to get back to Calgary in time to pick up Asia from her kitty hotel.

Grandpa had told me on the way out that the worst stretch of the entire Trans Canada Highway is the part between Calgary and Medicine Hat. At the time, I’d disagreed, having an albeit vague memory of Medicine Hat to Swift Current. I drove the final stretch home, and I have since apologised to Grandpa — he’s right, that three hours is terribly long and dull. It’s flat, featureless, nearly devoid of any towns, and the only real sense of you moving is the endless stretches of telephone poles and/or electrical towers.

Oh, and something else I noticed. When you see a dimensional load on trucks in Saskatchewan, it’s farm equipment. In Alberta, it’s oil equipment.

We screamed into the Rainbow Pet Centre around 16:15, and retrieved our poor lonely kitty. We did our best to shoot across Calgary in building rush hour traffic, and arrived home just after 17:00. Monkey, you were quite content to stay outside and read, rather than go in the house. Though when you did, you really wanted to just get into your own bed. I don’t blame you in the slightest.

We had our first (mostly) home-cooked meal since leaving town a week ago, and it felt good to sit at our own table.

On a positive note, this was an excellent first family trip. It wasn’t an easy one, by any means, but both of you kids did very well in the car for such long times. It’s not easy being stuck in those seats with so little to do. (Well, for Monkey, anyway. Choo Choo, you tended to sleep. Which is exactly the right thing.) We’ll have to see how we do these in the future, as I’m not sure we’re going to be going such a long distance again for a while. I’m of the opinion that the trek to the homestead should wait until you’re both quite a bit older, and would appreciate it a lot more.

Like, 10 years or so…

Monkey, you slept like a log. We had trouble waking you up.

Today was relatively uneventful. Saskatchewan, as those who have travelled across it will also likely tell you, is filled with farms, the odd grain elevator, a few lakes, and not a heck of a lot else. (I should add that the eastern part of Alberta is much the same, and actually a little worse.) Our trip was from Moosomin in the east, to Swift Current in the west. Like I said before, we’re keeping it light in the interests of not overdoing it.

It had rained last night, and was still spotty as we headed out onto the highway. A few times the rain came and went, and it remained mostly cloudy until we were well past Regina. The storm looked pretty nasty, and apparently did a number to Regina, which we saw when we arrived. Our major stop was Regina, incidentally, for lunch. We ate near Victoria Mall, at a Mr. Sub (we’re swearing you off sandwiches for a while, Monkey — you just ain’t eating them anymore).

We then went off in a very painful search for coffee. Tim’s won’t apparently do, so we tracked down what I can only take to be the single Second Cup in the entire city. Which of course, is in a mall. Downtown. Right off a pedestrian area. With no place to park.

With coffees in hand, we headed back to a playground we’d seen on the way in so you could burn off a little steam before we hit the road. You ran around quite happily in what apparently was known as Core Park, until it was time for us to leave. You were asleep not long after hitting the ring road. Choo Choo, you were out pretty much the same time.

We drove to Largest Extant Species of the Deer Family’s Lower Mandible (Moose Jaw), where we had to stop for gas. Monkey, you woke up. Surprisingly, Choo Choo, you did not. We stayed only long enough to get gas, a snack, some juice, and we were gone. We were in Speedy Creek (another name for Swift Current) just around 17:00. The first thing we did was all go for a swim.

Dinner was at a place called “TNT Family Restaurant”. We’ve discovered that eating at anything listed as a “family restaurant” is generally a bad idea. The iced tea was powdered and the pasta sauce tasted like Chef Boyardee. The service, at least, was familial.

Sleep well, my pretties. Tomorrow, we go home!

Then we headed back down to Portage, which is one of the main roads in Winnipeg. After a stop at Timmy’s for a coffee recharge, we set our sights for Saskatchewan and our overnight stop at Moosomin.

The question was what were we going to do in between…

The answer is “not much”. Our only stop was in Brandon. Which is actually grossly understating the stop in general. While I would have been happy to stop on the highway (Choo Choo, you were extremely hungry at the time, and were very intent on making sure there was no doubt in anyone’s minds of that fact), Grandpa found a restaurant on the GPS further in town. While I admit I’m gaining a general dislike of restaurant suggestions on that thing, the fact that we went into town is proving to be very handy.

Lunch was at a place call Cranberry’s Family Restaurant. Overall, your basic average restaurant, nothing fancy by any means. Very strict on their menu, too. Mommy asked for a tuna melt, which was technically feasible since they had other melts on the menu and were offering a tuna salad sandwich, but there was just no leeway at all.

We decided to look for a park that had a playset so you could get out and run around a bit, Monkey. You’ve been really cooped up, and when you run around, you’re generally happier. We found one between 13th and 15th St, a couple blocks north of Victoria. At first, we saw only the park. Then the playset. Then we saw the water park. Given the 35-ish degree temperature, this seemed like the perfect thing for you to go running around in.

No sooner had we set up at a picnic table that an ice cream cart came by. Talk about your fortuitous timing! But you only had a little bit of the fudge bar before you wanted to go running about.

It took a fair amount of coaxing on my part, but I finally got you to run into the water, Monkey. The park itself was pretty simple: a red ring that sprayed, two big blue poles that jetted upwards, a purple candy cane-shaped pole that sprayed downwards, and some sprayed right out of the ground. Kids ran from spray to spray, as they all seemed to turn off and on in a slow cycle. Eventually, you were running in and out, too.

Shortly after 15:00, we started to load back up, and headed out of town. You were both asleep before we got to the Trans Canada again. From there, our trip went quietly until we got to Moosomin. There, we checked into the Canalta Hotel, a very new establishment — so new, the road is still gravel. Granny had spotted it on our way out from Whitewood, and I’d remembered the word “waterslide”. It’s a working hotel, meaning you get work crews in there a lot. That was obvious from the room we got — three queen-sized beds.

After charming the heck out of the clerks at the front desk, you and I went swimming, Monkey. Unlike the Holiday Inn in Winnipeg, the Canalta’s pool is cool. Not “cold”, but it didn’t take long for you to start shivering. And, like me, you don’t like hot water pools, so I couldn’t get you to warm up in the big pool. So, instead, I took you on the waterslide.

The waterslide is clearly meant for kids, because neither I or one other daddy could fit very well inside it (though we did manage to get down pretty easily). I’ve also determined with absolute certainty that I need new swim trunks for waterslides — the ones I have only seem to stick, so we didn’t get a lot of speed. We went down together many times before you went on your own, with the help of the other daddy (I waited at the bottom to catch you). You came down feet first, but on your belly. Although you would later said the waterslide was scary because it was all dark, you also said it was a lot of fun!

We had dinner at the Red Barn Restaurant, which is one of the oddest restaurants I’ve eaten at in a long time. The outside makes it look like a diner-style restaurant, the interior almost makes it look like a higher-end trendy restaurant (and the menu isn’t far off), but you order at it like a McDonald’s. My food was good, so I couldn’t slag the quality, though Mommy said her pasta wasn’t so good.

Bed comes early. Tomorrow’s another long day.