Pause, Breathe

There is no noise like the noise of Five Boys. Particularly, I dare say, if the Five Boys are all of the same age.  My ears are still ringing.

Wednesday started what has come to be known at our house as The Four Busy Days.

The Four Busy Days began with me volunteering for a fundraiser at Nicco's school which I only volunteered for in an effort to look good. It was Papa John's Pizza Delivery Night. Painted Sky Families could order pizza and have the kids' teachers deliver it! Fun! Tip your teacher! Yippee! Mrs. G. sent an e-mail telling the parents of her students that she would be a delivery gal, but she needed two drivers to take two-hour shifts on the delivery night. After a couple of days went by, (I thought surely by then someone would have taken the slots) I asked if she had her drivers. She said via e-mail that I was the first to offer! Oh. Okay. See, I didn't really want to do it. I just wanted her to know I was willing to do it. Foiled by my own delusions of awesomeness. I had to actually be awesome, instead of only appearing to be awesome.

I took the early shift and Nicco came along. The day before the event the co-chair called to make sure we all followed through with our commitments. She said she had so much fun last year that she volunteered to help chair the event this year. Don't worry, my delusions don't stretch that far. Anyway, we met at the pizza joint, had a slice, then hit the road. We delivered 5 pizzas in our shift, chatted about this and that, got in some good quality time with the lovely Mrs. G., and got home in time for the Daddy to say, "Maybe we should order pizza!" It was a well organized event and I'm glad I scored the desirable Brownie Points on such an easy task!

Thursday was The Boy's Birthday. Busy.

Friday was a first grade field trip to the Pumpkin Farm. Truth being told, that is where I really wanted to score my brownie points. Alas, I was not alone. Mrs. G. put the names of the volunteers into a hat and drew out two lucky parents. I was not one of them. boo. I had to send my boy off on his first Field Trip on a Bus, alone. Without me. Just like his first day of French Camp, I survived.

Those Three Busy Days behind us, I had to face the Busiest of the Busy Days. Birthday Party Day. I let Nicco choose five friends. I scheduled a bounce house to be delivered. It arrived, Nicco bounced. We skipped lunch for the bouncing. Then the friends trickled in, one by one. It was a bouncy good time. There were only a few arguments about who was The Boss. King for a Day did not like the Peasant Uprising. There were only a couple of bumps and bruises and I think only one elbow to the face. When the Testosterone-Fueled Seven Year Old Alpha Male contest reached a boiling point, I, in my wisdom, shut it down and fed the animals Sugar. Sugary-sugar with sugar on top.

Then presents. Then more bouncing. Then, mercifully, three o'clock came. The boys went home, one by one. Minutes after the last one pulled away, the Daddy came home and took over. Ahh. Daddies. Yay!

My ears are still ringing with the shouts and *other* noises of five boys.

Now my two boys are playing. And I don't have to supervise them.

King For A Day

Nicco woke up yesterday morning with big eyes and a big smile, greeted by a brand new Angry Birds "Happy Birthday" sign. He kept that smile pasted on his face as he glanced around the house wondering where the balloons and presents were.

 

Still smiling he said, "I guess you can get the gifts while I am at school today." On the way to school he said, "I think you already have gifts. They're probably just hiding."

 

Bingo, Sneaky Pete.

 

While the boy was at school I went on a quest for the one thing he claimed he wanted more than anything else and which I did not find at Target the other day. After that, I set up a treasure hunt for him. The Birthday Boy did actually deserve a little bit of birthday fun while waiting for the Daddy to come home from work.

 

When I picked him up from school he insisted I take a picture of his "Hoppy Birthday" sticker so Daddy could see it. He didn't think he could wear it much longer. It had a small rip, you see. That bugs.

When Nicco said goodbye to his Dad he said, "I thought you would cancel work today." He was slightly disappointed and surprised that his Dad did not come home early for his birthday. He was excited and surprised however when he saw the balloon on the freezer in the garage! He pounded on the window and yelled for me to let him out.

 

He went on his treasure hunt and I forgot to take pictures, so I made him tell his Dad about it when he got home.

In the garage was a balloon with a #1 and the message "Happy birthday, Nicco dear! Put your backpack and your lunchbox on the counter and find #2." I attached a small surprise to each balloon to satisfy the birthday gift craving.

When he put his things on the counter he found #2 which said, "It's your birthday, shout hooray! Put your shoes away and your dirty socks in the laundry to find #3."

In his hamper was the third surprise and a note telling him "Work before fun! Do your homework, read 3 books on RAZ-kids, do one

X-tra math assignment, practice your spelling, then you can help with the cake and find #4."

 

After the schoolwork was done, we got to work on the cake. He found #4 in the pantry.

"If the cake is baking, you can clean your toilet and find #5." Patrice was shocked (!) that I made him clean his toilet on his birthday. King for a Day, after all. I said the King needs a clean throne. Besides, I needed to occupy hands and mind so Mr. Sneaky wouldn't rip into his presents without the Daddy.

On the toilet tank was #5, telling him he's such "a helper! What a big boy! You must be at least 7. If you put away your games, you will find #6."

He put his games in the game closet and found the last message. "I bet you are ready for presents! Is Daddy home? No? Then you may play i-pad until he comes home. Then check your mail. You might find #7, the magic number!"

 

He told me he could just check his mail but not open any presents. Just check, he said, as he creeped slowly toward the patio door. Just check. I promise. No way, I said! For the first time ever in the history of earth I had to force my kid to play i-pad.

 

Luckily, all those other little tasks took up enough time that the Daddy arrived within about 20 minutes and we went out to the mailbox to find #7.

It was just like Up! I suppose it was a good thing I used some of the balloons for the treasure hunt, otherwise the tree house may have floated away!

He found his pile o' presents inside. He giggled and squealed and said things like "Don't EVEN tell me! Lego Harry Potter???!!! More Legos???!!! A Terrain Twister???!!!"

He played with his Dad until bedtime. He told me it was worth the wait.

Nicco Has a Birthday, Shout Hooray!

Seven years ago today my Dad packed up the wife and the hunting rifles, quit the hunt early and zipped from Utah to Colorado in time to see the 10th grandchild when he was just hours old.

 

The Grandparents in France were toasting the 7.5 pound boy who didn't yet have a name.

 

Patrice and I were alternately sleeping and crying.

 

Nicco mostly just looked around at the new world he occupied.

 



 

This is probably my favorite picture of him ever.

I love him so. I can hardly believe it's been seven years. Happy Birthday, my baby!

The Dolphin Show

This is (allegedly) Nicco in the Dolphin Show. He claims he was not in a dolphin show. He's shy, you know. He doesn't want to be famous. Also, it was not his idea. Therefore, he does not like the idea. I have to give him credit though. Despite documented proof to the contrary, he is stubbornly sticking to his story that he was not in a dolphin show.

If you know Nicco, you can see his hesitation to go with the trainer to the arena. He had to wiggle his fingers to make the dolphin sing, then he surfed a dolphin on a boogie board. His job was to wave and smile. I think he was focused on not falling off the board. He had to be coaxed and reminded to do his job.

I love this! I thought it was just so awesome to see my little guy up in the air riding the dolphins. This is the part he hated...he did not have his goggles, so he got salty water in his eyes and up his nose on the drop. That made it the worst thing ever. We were proud that even in his reluctance to perform the boy did not freak out.

For the non-lip-readers out there, I thought that was awesome. Good times!

Some Videos

Nicco was just a teeny little bit wired at the airport on our way to the D.R. 

And he was just a teeny little bit giddy to play in the ocean.

And, he and this little Dominican boy speak the universal language of children.



More fun in the ocean. 

Getting hooked onto the zip line.

 Grinding cocoa or coffee beans, the traditional way.

Cock fight. "How can you tell who's the winner and who's the loser? By killing each other."

Nicco's ocean game...hours and hours of this. He never got tired. Can't say the same for me. It was worth it though, for sure.

More fun in the waves and sun with my kiddo.

That is all for now...I am going to have to figure out a way to edit the dolphin show videos, I think. I'm not sure I can upload the whole thing on this format. We'll see.

Adios, Republica Dominicana

On our last morning, Nicco and I took a walk around Bob and Pat's yard to say good bye. Nicco wanted me to be sure to take a picture of his favorite tree. He says it looks like cardboard. (?)

 Goodbye, sprawling yard and ocean view.

 Goodbye, Villa Bella Vista.

Goodbye Mary, whom Nicco wanted to impress by making his bed all by himself and whom he almost emulated when we got home. He dumped out all his drawers because he wanted to fold and organize everything neatly. I don't mind, but I did not want to do it right.when.we.got.home.

Goodbye, Mocha. A.K.A Mocha Loca. Which technically should be Mocha Loco, since he's a boy, but I don't like the mismatched -a and -o endings. Sometimes I called him Moco Loco, but I thought that even a dog wouldn't like to be called crazy booger.

Goodbye, Chip. A.K.A. Chiperoo.

 

 Goodbye, sad little shack for rent.

 Goodbye ocean and islands.

Hopefully we'll see you soon!

Stogies and El Molino

With Nicco's beach fix taken care of, we spent our last full day of vacation on a long, steep, winding ride through the mountains and into a town (Tamboril?) to visit a cigar factory and for the men to buy cigars.

 

I knew the ride would be long and that Nicco would not be as fascinated by the scenery as I, so I brought the tablet along for his entertainment. When we reached the tippy top of a mountain, we walked beside the rooftop of a restaurant on the side of the hill. The view was truly spectacular, and Nicco did in fact appreciate it. He also appreciated the menus. He thought the mills stamped in leather and nailed into wooden planks were quite unique.

We had pumpkin soup for an appetizer. Nicco's face contradicts his actual reaction. He loved it, begged his Daddy to make it, and ate it all up. He said it was the best thing he's ever had. And he didn't even add ketchup! He ate goat for his main course. Bob was impressed. He said Nicco was the first seven year old he knows to eat pumpkin soup and goat.

 He sat on the bench in this make-shift tree house on the patio

 and enjoyed the view with his dad.

Pictures don't do it justice...

 I did take one panoramic shot, but it didn't fit in this format.

Nicco made me take a picture of the lizard. He likes the bright green ones. They are different from our little brown lizards back home.

After lunch we made our way to the La Aurora cigar factory for a tour. By pure happy accident, a guide was expecting us. Well, not us exactly, but another couple of tourists who happened to be late. We started their tour and they joined us later. Nicco had to stay behind because apparently, there actually are some rules and regulations in the D.R. and children are not allowed to tour the tobacco factory. Pat graciously stayed with him, and I was glad I brought his tablet along for the long ride.

We saw tobacco leaves in burlap bags, tobacco leaves in barrels, leaves being deveined, leaves being sorted and cut, and we saw leaves blended and rolled and pressed and fumigated.

I was only allowed to take pictures in a few places so as not to reveal the secret blends.
Here are some workers wrapping, labeling, and packaging a few of the 36,000 hand rolled cigars the factory produces each day.

It was a fascinating and pungent tour. It definitely gave me a different perspective and appreciation for the product.

Prost!

The Dominican Republic is a land of contrasts. It is geologically diverse with 10,000+ ft. mountains, sprawling valleys, rainforests and sandy beaches. It also has a very diverse population. Among the inhabitants is a large group of expats. But be careful...you might not want to know why an expat is in the DR. Apparently, at any given time there might be a handful of the FBI, CIA, Interpol, and other international police organizations' most wanted. Lots of international criminals try to hide on the island. My friends are innocent, of course. They're just "escaping,"  not actually escaping.

 

Anyway, among the expats is a significant number of Germans. A nearby restaurant owned by a Swiss and Italian couple honored the German population with an Oktoberfest menu. We drove by on Saturday night and it was packed. People even parked as far away as the grocery store down (what may be considered) the block. We decided to save our visit for the next day.

 

It was not nearly as crowded on Sunday afternoon as it was on Saturday night.

We had pretzels and weissewurst. Quite authentic and quite good.

We spent the rest of the day relaxing at home. We were pretty worn out from all our adventuring, especially the short person in our group. He deserved a quiet day. He even talked us all into a card game. He kicked our butts. Good for him.

One More Trip to the Beach

My boy L-O-V-E-D the beach. He's like a little sea turtle, drawn to the ocean. It's a magnet. We had two days left and Bob needed/wanted to visit another town for a cigar run. We all thought it would be interesting and educational to see the process that goes into making a cigar, so we just had to decide which day to go to the beach and which day to go to the cigar factory. Nicco voted for the beach first.

 

It was funny walking along the sandwalk. I would call it a boardwalk, but there were no boards. Lots of people said the beach was no good today, the waves are too rough. There was a tropical storm passing by roughly a couple hundred miles away which really churned up the ocean. That did not deter my boy in the least. Quite the opposite, in fact. 

 

He ran down to the shore and jumped right in.

 He sat down and waited to be washed away in the waves.

 He got washed away in the waves.

He ran up to get me. The second most frequently uttered sound after Nicco's squeals and giggles was "Come on, Mom!"

He made up a game where I was something like a pier and he would hold onto my legs as long as he could as the waves crashed and tossed him about. We both got knocked down more than once.

The Daddy and I had to tag-team each other. Neither one of us has quite the energy or endurance of our nearly seven year old boy.

This picture of the boats shows the choppy ocean. The other day when we were at this beach the waves on the shore were pretty gentle and there was no surf beyond the shore.

A funny thing about the "bad day" to go to the beach...it was the most crowded day. I guess Nicco wasn't the only one undeterred by the weather. Here's a guy selling fruit among the tourists.

Lunch break...the "boardwalk" across from the Hungry Viking. It's a new tradition. One I'll be happy to continue in the future.

After lunch it was the Daddy's turn in the water. You can really see how choppy the ocean is in this picture. All my people made it into the water after lunch, in spite of the twenty minutes after eating rule.

 Crash and smash! Good times, I tell ya.

I told Nicco that he can tell his friends he knows what it would be like to be laundry after being rolled and tossed in the waves on this visit.

Outback Safari

Our last (professionally)guided tour was a day-long excursion into the "outback" of the D.R. We traveled in a big old open truck into the forest to see some of the local life--how coffee and cocoa are made, some local artists crafting sculptures from stone, a cockfight, a school, a real Dominican lunch, and finally, a river and waterfall adventure.

 

Bob recommended this tour for its variety and because I had put the 27 waterfalls on my list, but the waterfalls are dangerous, especially the higher you climb. This tour only takes you on the first seven so it is considerably more safe.

 

We had to make a few stops in the morning. First to pick up some more passengers, then to buy drinks, then to get gas, then to pick up the photographer. Clearly, this could not have all been organized and arranged prior to our 8:15 departure.

 

Once we hit the road, Nicco was like a puppy with the windows down. While he was awake he really liked the ride. I was actually glad it was a long ride...it was scenic and interesting and my boy woke up early. He fell asleep and got a nice charge in his battery for the rest of the day.

 Some street scenes...

Many buildings have at least the doors and windows barred. In the back country, we saw a pretty nice house completely fenced in by iron bars. What a life! I guess you do what you have to do if you can't live in a gated and guarded community like Bob and Pat's.

There is a woman in this picture carrying a bundle on her head. Lots of women carry their loads like that, and many of them sell fruits and vegetables from baskets on their heads.

 Some homes and more Dominican wiring.

 More homes.

We took a little rest stop at the top of a hill after many minutes of driving. The guides offered us some local rum and soda. Considering how dangerous the waterfalls are understood to be, I questioned the wisdom of a rummy excursion.

 Nicco had sprite.

 The misty mountain.

The fence poles around here will eventually grow into trees. They just stick a pole in the ground and in a matter of weeks, leaves and branches will have sprouted. The fences remain until they are too overgrown and need to be chopped down and started again. You see guys walking around with machetes. At first in my ignorant mind it seemed kind of barbaric, but when I learned that they do EVERYTHING with machetes, it's just like seeing a guy walk around with a tool belt. They don't actually go about lopping off limbs and heads.

Ocean view.

Our first real stop was in a small village to see how coffee and cocoa are processed. Our guide pointed out some of the native plants. This pokey fruit is called bread fruit, I think, and it tastes similar to a potato.

 The roof in the coffee hut.

 A cocoa pod, split open. Yum...

After we saw the dried beans, they passed around chocolate powder. Nicco liked it, even better than Nesquick!

Next they made us put on hats and dance around and grind the beans. Nicco was not happy about that.

 This is Mama Dora, filtering the grounds to make the freshy-fresh coffee and chocolate.

 It was so delicious...the best we've ever had!

After the obligatory walk through the gift shop, we went back to our truck. This basketball hoop was set up in the courtyard of the village.

The next stop was a school. We were greeted by a dozen little kids begging for candy. Our guide shooed them away and took us into the schoolyard.

 He said that particular group of kids would be in class later. At the moment, an older group was in class. There are three sessions each day. One goes from 8-12, the second is from 2-6, and there is an evening session from 7-10. In the three or four hours of class time, there is roughly an hour and twenty minutes of actual instruction. The guide said they have too many kids and not enough schools. Patrice said it would be less of a problem if everyone didn't have 13 kids. True enough, but that is not the only problem. One thing you learn in a third world country is that there is no poverty in the U.S. The poorest people in our country live in relative luxury. We are blessed and fortunate, without a doubt. I hope that my boy is absorbing some of the more subtle lessons and experiences from this trip.

 The kids in class.

All students are required to wear uniforms. They are "free," but the government knows it can depend on donations from different groups to provide the uniforms for the kids.

Nicco peeking in the window. I think (hope) he will appreciate his school more after having visited this school.

At the end of our visit, our guide handed out some treats to the little kids who greeted us at our arrival. He made one little boy dance and sing. It was cute, yet tragic. I haven't taken many pictures of people because I don't like making them into an object of curiosity for tourists.

Our last stop before lunch was a quick little walk near the river to see a demonstration of the third largest sport in the Dominican Republic, behind baseball and basketball. Cockfighting. It is legal here, and the roosters cost between $50,000 and $150,000.

 We saw the talons and the "boxing gloves" of two fighting cocks.

They did a brief demo and someone asked who was winning. Our guide said, "How do you know who is winning? They are killing each other. If you go to an arena, you can see the blood and death."

Once again, we wandered through a gift shop where we saw some local artists carving petrified wood, soapstone, limestone, and lava.

We ate our lunch and headed to the waterfalls. When we arrived, the guide said that one or the other of me and Patrice would have to stay behind with Nicco. He was too young and too little to go up, even on the lower levels. The age limit is 8. I let Patrice have the adventure and I remained behind with the boy. But first, we walked through the forest, over bridges, and through the river to the pool at the bottom of the first waterfall. It was a good hike, about twenty minutes, and Nicco had to keep up. He did a good job.

 The hikers had to swim over to the rocks,

 then climb up a ladder,

Between the ziplining and waterfall hike, Patrice is getting some good practice for when we go on the Amazing Race!

 up, up, up!

Nicco and I swam in the chilly pool. He was disappointed that he couldn't see the waterfalls.

He was mad because the water was cold, he was mad because I didn't bring his goggles, he was mad because we made him walk all that way for nothing. It was the worst day of his life, he told me. I told him there is a solution to prevent future "worst days ever," and that solution is to send him to his grandparents' house while the daddy and I take adventures. So there. He was mad at me for the suggestion. Poor Nicco. Maybe Mister Spoily-pants isn't learning how fortunate he is after all.

On the walk back, we ran into a Dominican road block, a herd of cattle.

After another long drive, we returned home where our kind and gracious hosts fed us out on the patio. We were talking about our vacation and I said something about how it has been especially good for Patrice to really relax and enjoy his reward for working so hard. Bob said something about how it's nice, but it's not like a real vacation at a hotel where you get pampered. I looked at him quizzically and wondered exactly how were are not pampered...we have a chauffeur service, their maid makes up our beds and does our dishes and laundry, and we either go out for dinner our they feed us. Patrice did help Pat with dinner once, but besides that, we are completely pampered. Bob retracted his statement.

After a delicious dinner we watched the sun set on another beautiful day.