Field Day May 26 - June 2, 2006 Pack your gear and get moving!

	The shadowed hill is our planned destination as you can see, I've already lost my humor here...

	Right from the start, our trail led through lush vegetation

I think I can declare myself a graduate of a basic military training. I had been subjected to all possible kids of hassles -- nighttime alarms, readiness checks, deployments (to the hospital); endless aligning of clothes and laundry into stacks (which are shortly thereafter demolished by a toddlers' inspection, as they are found inadequate); tiresome mopping of floors and repetitive personal washing (of baby bottoms). I have also acquired a passable skill of target-throwing grenades (wet diapers into a waste bin), cross-country running (my sprint across playgrounds towards Tom falling from slides, which demands not to stomp on someone else's child, bucket or toy car), crawling (when on search for misplaced toys, keys, phones and remote controls, usually dropped by a playful toddler behind refrigerators or under sofas), all this with a background of constant yelling. Last week we finished the training off by organizing a field day of marching with gear.

Granny, of course, provided the appropriate exercise area. Our retiree sometimes acts like a wild animal freshly torn away from her chains -- she jumps into a car and drives away to overtake local athletes in brand name hiking outfits with her brisk walk. From these outings, she brings back pictures over which Sid drools longingly. He's a hillbilly -- unless we conquer a local peak, our hike bores him.

	... and on the other side, hills of Garrapata

	A view to the Pacific...

I don't remember how it came to be, but on one Saturday we were suddenly standing on a parking strip near Garrapata State Park and granny pointed excitedly to peaks of hills and mountains that she had climbed. I kept my cool -- given that we must carry our children, we usually stick to easy and SHORT paths. More so, it was lunch time and we sat down on the nearest ditch edge and devoured one glass of baby food (Lisa) and sandwiches (the rest of the expedition). Granny declared that she would carry Lizzy -- it seemed to me like a wonderful idea. Horses at races also sometimes carry extra weights -- I imagined our eighteen pound Lisa to be a sufficient attenuator for granny. I was quite wrong.

Granny trotted ahead, loaded with her grand-daughter, and we began to drift, at a pace from a pebble to a twig, up the hill with Tom. Our patience did not last long. The trail picked up on steepness and trampled dust became so slippery that Tommy could not effectively walk on it. Thus Sid put him on his back and we could move quicker right away. By that time I was already sorry to having had exchanged my baby for granny's backpack. Not that she would have packed anything heavy -- but her bag falls into the category of "dead auntie" -- a limp, shapeless blob with no skeleton, under which one sweats profusely. Alas, our granny had disappeared in the distance (and altitude above), and so I had no choice but to keep cursing and climbing. Lizzy saved me, who according to her habit did not tolerate extended separation from her mother and squealed unto granny until her nerves gave way and she would stop and wait for us.

	If this place were not so beautiful, I'd long be back in my car

	On the top -- totally tired parents, and frisky children.

We exchanged burdens -- I lost my light bag, and Lizzy's eighteen pounds landed on my back, plus seven pounds of the backpack carrier loaded with water, food and spare clothes -- all together I'd guess it to be some thirty, thirty two pounds. Furthermore, Lisa was ecstatic from being on a hike with her mommy -- she urged me to perform better by kicking me in my kidneys, jumping fiercely, and leaning alternatively to the left and right, pulling at my hair and shouting frivolous commands. Sid was not so lucky -- his rider was simply obnoxious, since the hour of his afternoon nap has come and gone -- so he just whined and whimpered in various ways. Thus saddled, we covered another part of the trail and I was slowly arriving to a conviction that an afternoon spent on a couch in front of a TV would be, after all, a very rewarding family program, and why must we go up such a high hill? Granny jabbered happily, can we see the top from which there shall be an excellent view, Sid reassured me that he can clearly see people up there, and I contemplated which moment would be best for handing my resignation from the position of Nepal Sherpa.

The moment would not quite come and I kept on hiking. In the end I was glad -- the last stretch of the road led across something that can, for lack of imagination, be called a mountain meadow. California poppies, lupines, variations of heather, thyme and bluebells -- all in optimistic colors and lush quantities. I swallowed my late cursing and whining, and enjoyed my surroundings, and a breathtaking view of the Pacific. And to top the bill, we did not find any poison oak there -- and so at the top we released our offspring into the grass. Tommy sparked up, started running up and down, dug in the ground, threw small rocks and jumped on his resting, tired parents. Lizzy explored the grass, ate some snacks, and also rolled over us.

	View from the top

	... and another

Everything has its end and we, too, had to trek from this paradise back into civilization. Saddled by children we stumbled and slid down, trying no to fall with our precious loads. Lisa decided to have her afternoon nap. I don't know what's worse -- whether to carry a backpack that jumps on your back, wiggles and leans out, or the same burden unmoving, yet forcefully hanging out of balance to the right. Sid tried to move Lisa's head onto my back, but she resisted -- always forced it back right. Half the distance down it was clear that this adventure will not pass without consequences. Sid mumbled that his knees were hurt (well, Hippo weight combined with Tommy's, plus the backpack, somehow exceeds specifications for human joints), while my legs trembled with every step like those of a freshly hatched chick. To make it short -- we reached Highway 1 without an incident, but recovering from various aches and stretchings took three more days.

Consequently, our Sunday program was set on easy -- we more or less dithered at our house and vicinity. Monday was a holiday (Memorial Day) and on Tom's request we went to see some "airplanes". Tommy must have meant an airport, but we took it literally -- and visited an aircraft museum. We adults quite liked it, but soon we discovered that our kids found it still not very palatable. Tommy, true to his style, showed mostly interest in drains, facility covers and stairs -- and then he pointed to private airplanes taking off from a nearby runway. Lizzy wanted to crawl, so I just let her. Why did I bother to dress her up for a museum visit in her fancy (read: not threadbare) trousers? She wiped their floor with them. I think she needs to start walking -- she stands riding in her stroller for ten, maybe fifteen minutes, and then she demands to "run around". Apparently I am destined for a hard task: to choose out our program so that I can release a (very quick and far) crawling toddler there.

Here we have collected pictures of some local flowers for you

	Tom at a viewpoint

	Lizards at Garrapata are completely cocky and let you take their portrait from a few inches distance

Among all the displays, kids liked best the interior of a real commercial airliner (first class of an early Boeing 747). Lisa was happy that we let her roll freely on all the seats, Tom sat down and explained that "we fly on a big plane". Lately Tommy has been coming up with "ideas" and play "as if". E.g., he told me that his stuffed cat wears a bell (local cats often do), that people enter his toy airplanes and these planes "make lines in the sky". When we were talking him out of taking his doll (a toy baby with toy stroller) along for our "plane trip", he wisely nodded that "baby's too small, is afraid of engines". He sometimes comes up with unusual words -- for example he wanted to "hair" me with a comb. When we explained that a bee is not a ladybug, he made a ladybee out of it. Simply put, it has been much fun with him lately. I just recall that he would say "granny IS" by the beginning of April, and now he forms whole sentences with multi-syllable words (and most of the time with correct Czech grammar) -- e.g. "granny goes to Monterey", one can see how much progress he has made.

Lizzy is growing up, too -- it seems that she has considerably moderated her mommy-attachment. She still keeps on expressing her undying affinity, but she no longer responds with a punitive squeal to (every one of) my errands to a bathroom and such. She spends a lot of time standing -- and sometimes it seems that she began to discover how it is with alternating of her little feet. We have to keep an eye on her -- she can climb up on the couch and then on the window sill, she longs to reach stairs into the garage, and grabs remote controls, watches, phones and other pushables. There's no easy distracting her anymore -- when Tom used to switch my computer off, all I had to do was put some tape over the light and the pushbuttons -- Lisa peels the tape to have a good look. Sometimes one can see she is a girl after all -- Tom was most interested in the wheels on the push car. Lisa focuses on how to sit down comfortably and make someone push her. The influence of an older brother still strongly shows -- the other day she was waving a toy car in the air (apparently not quite distinguishing between cars and planes) and made the sound of vrrrooooum vrrrooooum.

	Lisa has conquered the window, losing only a single sock!

	When Lisa gets to her push car, she proudly sits on the top and waits for someone to push her...

My advances are not as remarkable, but I'm still pleased. Not long time ago I overcome my natural aversion to shopping and purchased a summer dress. After three years, a dress that has NOT BEEN MADE FOR PREGNAT MOTHERS!!! Then I gave up waiting for my fingers to unswell, and had my wedding ring cut off. I look like an adventurous wife -- my ring mark has left a permanent trace on my finger. I shall wait some and then have a new one made, after my finger recovers. Alas, a similar situation developed in the shoe department -- I am still stuck with men's sizes only, for my wide feet won't fit in any women's models. I don't see a solution there -- if I ever need dress shoes again, I might have to have them custom made.

The rest of my body has hopefully began to recover. I have been climbing well lately -- and difficult ones, too -- as long as I consider my extra weight. Our local climbing gym has moved to a new building, with longer routes (up to 60 ft, or 18 m) and much more technical and balanced ones. Well, I still miss the shape I used to have, and don't manage the short routes whose difficulty dwells on five pull-ups in a row. I need "earned" climbing, with problems that can be worked out by style and thinking more than force. So far we have been taking advantage of baby-sitting granny and keep wondering in vain how to combine our climbing with two frisky kids, once that she leaves us again...

Copyright © 2006 by Carol & Sid Paral. All rights reserved.