Who is holding the reins? July 22 - August 5, 2007 Well, our descendants, of course, literally and figuratively. Lisa had celebrated her 2nd birthday. Our last kid-free trip in this year.

	Tom watches how the horse functions

Tommy kept repeating his requests to watch pictures from our horsing trip, and bravely claimed that he, too, would like to ride a horse. I found my parental honor in question and started to look for an arrangement allowing my juniors to be put on horseback. In the end I had spotted a farm in Half Moon Bay, which offers a children's train, some farm animals - and pony rides.

	Lisa tries to establish contact with her pony

Lisa quite rushed to pat a pony -- of course, from the safety of her mother's arms. Tom kept his distance, re-evaluating his original resolution to rid a horse, but we were faster. Before he had managed to express what he wanted (or rather did not want), we had bought a ticket and Tom was put atop his little pony. Naturally, both children took it very seriously, and wore their most solemn facial expressions. It's interesting how different their reactions were. Lisa patted her pony and tried to establish some contact with him; Tom watched how horses were moving around (legs are, after all, something quite different than wheels of engines and cars), how they pee and poo, and how it all functions.

At this farm, parents lead the ponies, which took us a bit unprepared. I have to say that the proximity of brandished hooves near my (sandaled) feet kept me on edge. Further I had not expected it to be so difficult to take pictures while one drags around a generally uncooperative beast. Soon Sid and I hoped for the crew calling an end to the session, but this would not come. After some fifteen minutes we had both had enough trampling around a corral, and we began to convince our kids to end the ride. Well, they did not want, and so we promised them lunch.

	We were a bit afraid for our feet in sandals.

Tom begged to go to the ocean and to the Pigeon Point Lighthouse, while Lisa would have preferred to nap. At the lighthouse the kids regained some energy, chasing each other on wooden paths, while we chatted with a guide who had a Czech grandfather. Eventually they faded away and Lisa napped during our drive home. Tommy has been lately skipping his afternoon nap. On one hand I understand that (he's almost four years old), on the other hand I still have no idea how to work out my afternoons. When Tom does not sleep, Lisa naturally would not bat an eye, eager not to miss any fun.

	Lisa is two already!

Lisa turned two on twenty-ninth of July. Originally we had not planned any big party, but then I had invited our neighbors and their kids over for an afternoon at the pool, in the last moment. While I was quickly finishing preparations in the morning, Sid had a task to take kids grocery shopping, and to get a birthday balloon. It had ended as expected -- the kids had solicited decoration balloons at the grocery store and subsequently did not understand why we should buy yet another one -- therefore instead of a beautifully shaped celebration balloon, Lizzy held on to the most ordinary rubber ball with a Trader Joe's imprint for the duration of the whole party.

We held a family circle celebration with Lisa right after lunch -- she got a cake and a handful of presents. These made Tom most excited, he kept on wanting to unwrap and examine them. We felt we had done the right thing -- this way, all we had to calm down, was Tommy -- the image of unwrapping in the presence of ten more toddlers causes a spontaneous run of cold sweat down my back. So Lisa had received some books, a train engine named James (red is her favorite color) and a stuffed little ginger cat (who's best property is being similar to Tom's most favorite stuffed animal).

	Lisa is trying her new James on a crossing

The afternoon party turned quite chaotic and apparently well received. Some visitors would not move out of our pool for three hours (since then we have been expecting a bill for de-thawing a toddler), others rushed to the toy trucks and our sandbox. Food was being consumed and drinks were being imbibed, talk was being talked. Gradually the background noise singled itself out to individual whimpering and whining, as it became necessary to take away our tired little guests into their respective beds.

	Lizzy's completely chaotic and relaxed birthday party.

Lisa had scored during her two-year medical exam -- the nurse measured her 23 pounds, which brought our little rain worm back into the realistic toddler tables. It's still somewhat disproportional compared to her height (35 inch), but even so we're glad for this small progress. Lizzy was pronounced a healthy, energetic child; she even waved goodbye to the doctor, which was a surprise given her pretended shyness and the tantrum seizures, when she refuses to perform anything her parents wish her to do.

As I had already mentioned, Lisa has been using various tactics for her disobedience. One is "off-topic diversion", another is "making authorities laugh". The other evening she was picking in her dinner and bothered us with whining about what she would not eat, she made me angry so much, that I roared, "Lisa, you will eat ... or grow a beard!" Her response was two very surprised eyes. Lizzy watched me for a moment, and then she said: "But mommy, I'm a girl and you're a girl, and you don't grow a beard either." And my authority was gone. The other day Tom, being chastised for responding like in a slow motion, dryly retorted that he was a FAST motion.

	Thomas was present, but there was no way to get near him

Tommy has been having strange imagination. He let go of impersonating various oceanic creatures, and became a train engine. He can be a train, most preferably a DOUBLE-DECKER or an EXPRESS. Perhaps he will exchange his promising career of a garbage collector for a train driver's job.

	Back to the cold seashore - a tunnel to Point Bonita

The other night I slept quite badly at night, and crawled out of my bed feeling like if my head were a bucket. Thus I wondered what program to prepare for the kids, to make it happen somewhere in shade and silence. I had no better idea than the redwood forest in Felton. I had promised the children that we would watch the local historic steam engine, miss Dixiana, depart on her sightseeing round, and then I had hoped to drag the kids into the serenity and darkness of the huge tree grove.

The sleepy town of Felton seemed livelier than usual, but I still had no clue. Not even a line at the park entrance register did not kick me. I waved our annual permit at the guard and drove briskly to the parking lot; Dixiana's whistle sounded from the nearby station and the kids were anxious to catch the train. We ran from the car -- and then I saw the station surrounded by a thousand strollers, giant blue billboards, and tourist crowds. I had slowly realized that by an unfortunate chance, we happened to wander into the annual Day Out With Thomas. Right in that moment, the very tank engine appeared on the tracks from Santa Cruz, life sized. Departing Dixiana was left unnoticed and I finally grasped the fact that I was to spend this morning in the blazing sunlight and roaring noise, migraine notwithstanding.

The children were thrilled by the fake beauty (don't imagine that the Thomas would be a real steam engine -- it's just a boxy imitation attached to the end of a train, pushed by a regular diesel engine), by the posters depicting their favorite heroes, and a barn full of catchy Thomas the Tank Engine themed stuff. As a proper Mother of the Year, I had refused to buy them an engine shaped balloon for an exaggerated price, and talked them into something more practical: toothbrushes.

	Bridges to Point Bonita

Tommy said he wanted to ride with Thomas, but this I rejected as well. I would not have chosen to spend half hour at noon on an uncovered flatbed car, connected to a horrid blue imitation, with speakers blearing Thomas-themed jingles in high pitched children's voices -- not for twenty dollars, and certainly not while I felt like my eyeballs were pulled out with sugar cube tongs. Fortunately for us, the organizer, Roaring Camp Railroads had arranged for a free (!!!) shuttle train between the station and their large parking lot. A tiny, real steam engine pulled a few cars to one end of the tracks behind a shed; a small diesel engine would pull the same train back to the station. Tommy rejoiced that these engines were Percy a Mavis and let me talk him into riding with them rather than with Thomas. Lisa did not want to desert her beloved Thomas, but eventually liked the ride -- and I think that our ten minutes was quite enough for her. Tommy used the opportunity to inspect all the rails, ties, and couplings between the cars.

In the end we had managed to spot Thomas once again, as he was arriving with another load of tourists from Santa Cruz. If I could complain about something with the organizers, it would be the impossibility to see the main hero. While in the station, Thomas was surrounded by a long line of those wanting to take a picture in front of him; I understand that it had to be organized somehow -- but why could it not be seen without standing in a line, from some greater distance? Why did they put him among trees behind a heap of junk? A crossing on the track from Santa Cruz was actually the only place where one could properly see the famous engine. Still, my children were carried away by this unplanned glory, and I had survived without consequences, and it hall all ended well.

	A cowboy is returning with a mule team back home to Leavitt Meadows

On the next weekend we had taken the kids to another lighthouse, namely Point Bonita by Golden Gate. They both merrily trotted along the path, enjoyed every bridge crossing, and booed inside the tunnel you have to pass to get through the cliff. There's a hassle with the last bridge, which is all but collapsing and only two people are allowed on it at any given time. During a touristy weekend, queues form on every side, enforced by park employees.

	Horses and their riders: Kink + Carol -- Farnsworth + Sid.

Now that our children had had an opportunity for all the fun, Sid and I felt that our turn had arrived. We had been desperate to take advantage of the last few days when we had a baby-sitting grandmother, and after lengthy arrangements we had managed to reserve horses at Leavitt Meadows. Sid's weight has been the problem; not everyone would let a Hippo ride their horse. It's easy for us to understand, but when they see the Hippo in person, the problem disappears. We think that their concern is not aimed at the well-being of the horses; rather it's fear that a Hippo may in fact be a mound of lard, which would roll off the horse's back somewhere and subsequently sue the horse owner. As soon as the owners discover that my Hippo is a quite tall, relatively proportional chap (albeit somewhat wider in mid-riff), they relax and simply supply a more robust steed.

We made our Leavitt Meadows trip a one-day affair. On half past eight PM on Tuesday we departed from our house, FILLED THE TANK, rushed across unusually empty highways, and by midnight slept near our favorite Strawberry. An alarm woke us at seven thirty, we went through the basic morning chores, and had checked in at the pack station at nine. The local foreman was an incredibly dry character, but we had not come to spend the day with him, had we? The important thing was that they had a horse ready, one big enough for a Valkyrie -- Farnsworth; and then one small merry horse, Kink, for me. A small confusion ensued around the name of the horse for our guide, which was the same as my husband's. I have to say that when a young woman half of my age and weight, began to compliment in a sweet, low voice to SID, it made me fret.

	A waterfall - our ride's destination

Our horses were apparently somewhat less edge-trained than those at Rainbow. something on the narrow trail over a river had scared Sid (the four-legged one), and my Kink had made an about-face and attempted to flee. In his way stood Farnsworth with Sid (the two-legged one), and so my little horse had to change his mind. I don't understand two things -- one -- how come I had not fallen off -- and two -- how could Kink turn around so quickly on a path about a foot wide? Second time Kink got scared by a cracking twig -- but then he had open road ahead, so he just ran a bit and no dramatic maneuvers were necessary.

	A snake, caught and subsequently released by our guide

After about two hour ride, we had tied the horses up in a thin grove and walked a few yards to the waterfall, to stretch our legs. It has been a very dry year, but even so the waterfall was very pretty. It's only disadvantage consisted of the fact that neither Sid nor I had packed any snacks. Our guide gave us a small shock during this pause -- she yelled, "watch out, a snake!" and ran after it. Soon she held the serpent by its tail and began telling us about snakes, mentioning that this one would not likely be too poisonous.

On our way back all the horses got a great deal livelier. Kink would trot sometimes, apparently eager to get back home. Farnsworth, to my surprised, was just as frisky. Since he had been carrying Sid on his back for over three hours by then, and still was ready to trot, I would not hesitate to claim that for some horses, Sid's weight indeed is really no problem.

This ride was better again than the previous one. The trail had not been as demanding as with Rainbow, but we had also gotten more accustomed to the odd type of motion. My knees did not hurt as much -- but it was perhaps due to Kink being really a petite horse, and it did not feel like sitting on a barrel. I can't judge whether my backbone did stop hurting this time -- my back muscles were tired so much that I whimpered for subsequent two days. Sid, too, had enjoyed the time in the saddle -- and his hands were mostly free to take pictures. As we would soon lose our granny again, these pictures will be the only thing we have left of our child-free weekends, for a long time.

Copyright © 2007 by Carol & Sid Paral. All rights reserved.