Morning Hike

George's first haircut.

This morning my sister showed up after 7am to wrangle the family for a hike. We were all in the cars before 8, and headed toward Emerald Bay. My daughter was beside herself from the moment she woke up, and the only person she tolerated was my mother. Everyone fake cried as she started to scream about wearing a sweatshirt, and that made her hysterics elevate to a level I don't like to see. I tried to explain that this type of reaction to her outburst was not effective, but they seemed oblivious to what I was saying. I can understand why, since it is my parenting that led her to this state of spoiled crybaby mania.

Kiki ran to my mom’s bed after she woke up at 7, and my mom and her talked about ducks till we said, “OK, it’s time to leave.” When Kiki heard that we were leaving, and my mom was going to stay in bed, she nearly exploded. My mom, who doesn't step foot out of her bed before 8:30, was forced to go on the hike with us. 

Before we left, my sister was walking her baby around, holding on to her hands and guiding her through the house. Her daughter will turn 1 year old next month. My dad walks up from the coat closet and sees them cruising through the house, and says, “Sophie, you’re a pansy!” Sophie is the eleven month old.

Driving up the narrow mountain road to the hiking trail, my mom lamented on how she didn’t drink a cup of coffee. I felt pangs of distress for her, since she usually does high kicks to the coffee pot in the morning as she sings, “A day without coffee is like a day without sun.” I had four cups by then, so could only commiserate in distress by talking about how challenging it is for me to not read my phone while driving on the winding road.

On the phone!

We hiked up the mountain, taking in the view, and seeing a rushing waterfall. My mom and Kiki held up the tail. Hand in hand they walked and talked as they examined every bush, tree, and rock along the way. I worried as my mom held onto Kiki, who sometimes dangled from my mom like a My Buddy Doll, but my mom seemed to maneuver up the steep rocks without fear that they would slide into the rocky ravine.

My mom and dad returned from Vietnam last week, and they distributed our gifts after the hike. The kids scored a bounty, and my sister and I were thrilled with our elephant pants. When we scuttled off to happy hour, we all geared up in our Vietnam souvenirs.

She wears Birkenstocks. Even before they were cool (again).

For not napping, I was amazed at how the kids behaved at the restaurant. It is a new place by the casinos, and the loud atmosphere, coupled with French fries and an iPad, allowed our hour of libations to go rather smoothly.

Nice mullet, bro!

When we came home, George was spent. He was crying from a hair on his finger, and after my memory lapse on George’s hair phobia ended, I removed the hair from his finger tip. He composed himself and then resumed his business, which involves following my mom’s senior dog around who growls and snaps at him.

When I picked George up to take him to bed, we did a wave to all the family at the table. My dad was walking in the kitchen and kissed George on the head saying, “I love you, you little shit.”

I walked him upstairs laughing and thinking to myself, “It's amazing we have any self esteem at all."

Working those 10 year old Barbazon modeling ambitions