A Resolution Revolution

Like all of you other suckers, I've often been guilty of making New Year's resolutions on December 31. And like 92% percent of the population, each and every time, I've failed miserably within the first 31 days of each new year.

My attempts at past resolutions have included more exercise, less eating, more reading, less cursing, more sleeping, and countless other pipe dreams I cannot recall. You probably have a list of similar good intentions.

Maybe, just maybe, you've even been an 8-percenter and succeeded at keeping a resolution or two.

And if you are among those strong-willed and committed few who eat carrot sticks, love to sweat, regularly expand your vocabulary, are positive role models for your kids, and get 10 hours a night ... well, then, as we say in the South:

Bless your heart.

I, on the other hand, wised up a few years back and began making the only resolution I have ever kept. Actually, I have made it every year since, and I've been able to keep it year in and year out with hardly any effort at all.

My New Year's Resolution is to not make any resolutions.

See how easy that is?

But all kidding aside, as I was eating some kale chips and working out on the elliptical earlier today (while simultaneously reading the new novel I just downloaded), I began to think about the year ahead.

I may be anti-resolution, but that doesn't mean I can't aspire to live my life better in 2015 than I did in 2014.

And that's when I thought about my late father-in-law, Jack Rogers.

Jack, who passed away suddenly in March 2003 at the much-too-young age of 53, was full of life and had an enormous personality.

One of my best memories of him was when he would recite his "Three Rules to Live By."

I can picture him now, animated, emphatic, and dramatic in his delivery:

Jack's Three Rules to Live By

1) Anybody can do anything.

2) Everybody does exactly what they want to do.

3) If you don't get what you want, it's your own damn fault.

Jack's "Three Rules" may not "resolutions" per se.

You may or may not agree with them.

And you may or may not see the same beauty in these rules that I do.

Jack holding LJ, December 2002

They are simple and truthful, and they cut straight to the point. They offer no room for excuses. How you live your life is up to you and no one else.

As the clock strikes midnight and the book closes on 2014, I will -- once again -- stand firm in my resolution revolution. I will not be promising to do anything I know will fall by the wayside before the new calendar even turns to February.

I will, however, be thinking about Jack's Three Rules.

And when things get tough in 2015 and I want to make excuses for why something won't work or why I 'can't,' I will do my best to keep his words in the forefront of my mind.

I will begin my New Year by raising my champagne glass in toast to Jack and his Three Rules, and just as he used to say, I'll be doing exactly what I want to do.

2014: A Year of Surprises

We stopped sending Christmas cards a few years ago. It's not that we don't enjoy receiving them from others, because we do. In fact, we have a nice little Christmas card display thingy that we hang in a prominent place every December. So why did we stop doing them? I'm not sure I have a good answer or excuse, so I won't offer one.

Instead, I offer this "year in review" of sorts. Think of it as our Christmas card in blog form.

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If I had to choose a theme for the Rogers family in 2014, I think it's best described as A Year of Surprises. Some were good -- some not so much -- but in the end, we were constantly on our toes, and found ourselves to be pretty adaptable no matter what life threw at us.

FEBRUARY -- We're Moving (Again)

I suppose it's a good thing we decided to ask.

On a whim in late February, we emailed the property management company for our rental home in Tampa. We wanted to make sure we could re-sign our lease and stay in the home for another year. The family who owned the house was living in South Africa, and as far as we knew (and had been told several times), they wouldn't be returning to the U.S. for at least another year.

Like I said, it's a good thing we asked. 

We received a prompt response that, no, we could not re-sign the lease because the owners would be moving back into the house on July 1.

SURPRISE!

Just 8 months after moving to Tampa, we'd be moving again. Good thing we never got around to unpacking all those boxes.

With Jack headed out of town for three weeks, we had to act quickly. Although finding another rental probably would have made the most sense (we still own our home in Raleigh), I couldn't bear the thought of moving again only to feel "unsettled." So we decided to buy.

Our new home in Tampa

Our real estate agent went into hyperdrive and within 24 hours had lined up six showings in one of our target neighborhoods. The only problem was that, the same day we found out we had to move, I had oral surgery. The surgery in itself was no big deal -- but the reaction I had to the post-op antibiotics? That was ugly.

The accompanying nausea was so bad, in fact, that en route to one of the houses, Jack had to pull over at a busy intersection so I could jump out of the car and puke. Not one of my finer moments.

At each and every house we toured, the story was the same. I would tell our agent and Jack to go ahead of me while I stood in the front yard and threw up.

I just hope none of our new neighbors witnessed it.

MAY -- Two Houses, No Water

For those of you not familiar with Florida's west coast weather, let me acquaint you. The month of May can be hot. May can be sticky. May can be nasty. May in Tampa can remind you of an armpit.

And the weekend we moved into our new house, Tampa was doing its very best imitation of an armpit.

With temperatures and humidity high, so was our stress level. And it didn't help that to save money, we had decided to move everything ourselves -- everything but the very heaviest furniture pieces.

It was slow, arduous work, but we muddled through. By dinner time on the first day of our move weekend, we were making great progress. We stopped to order pizza for dinner, and as I stood in the office and looked out the window adjacent to Jack's desk, I noticed a steady stream of water pouring down the driveway.

Huh.

I raced out to the garage to find the hot water heater spewing water everywhere -- including all over our not-yet-loaded boxes and furniture.

SURPRISE!

Now Jack and I were the ones going into hyperdrive, desperately trying to locate the water shut-off valve. And because it was a rental home and we'd never thought to ask, we had no idea where it was. After 20 minutes or so, we finally found it. But a call to our property manager, and then to their plumber, revealed the earliest the water heater could be replaced was Monday -- if we were lucky.

Water, water everywhere, but not a drop to drink at our new house.

No big deal, we thought. It's so hot outside we can make do with cold water, we thought. Until we realized that all the faucets in the house were both cold and hot, meaning they didn't work at all.

No water.

Again, no big deal, we thought -- we already closed on our new house. We'll just shower and cook over there. Until we realized the county screwed up and shut off our water instead of transferring it to our account.

So we had two houses but no water. And it was Friday night. There would be no water until Monday.

So how did we get by for the next three days?

Showers at the gym. 

Eating out instead of cooking. 

Dogs drinking Perrier.

Just like we planned it.

JUNE-- Adventures in the Amazon

Although I never finished posting all of my journal entries from our week-long trip to the Peruvian Amazon, it is pretty well documented here on my blog -- both in words and pictures.

Jack with village children in El Chino, Peru

Certainly, the trip to the Amazon was not a surprise -- we booked it the previous October and knew well in advance what we were getting into (sort of).

The SURPRISE! in this case was that we actually went through with it. All four of us.

And we didn't get eaten by a giant anaconda.

Or stung by a bullet ant.

And we not only survived it, but we absolutely loved it.

We joked on the way home from Peru that any family vacation we take in the future will be incredibly boring by comparison -- and it's true.

LJ on the canopy zipline in the Peruvian Amazon jungle.

On how many vacations do you zipline through the a jungle canopy; swim in the Amazon surrounded by pink dolphins; fish for (and then eat) piranha; canoe through nearly impassable river ways surrounded by monkeys, sloths, and tropical birds; and hike through a forest so dense you can't even see the jaguars who are watching you?

A few days ago I asked Julianna to tell me the highlight of her year and she didn't hesitate with her answer.

"Well, duh," she said. "Our trip to Peru."

Duh, indeed.

SEPTEMBER -- The Marriott Miracle

One bonus to living in Tampa is that we have three NFL teams in Florida. That is, of course, if you count our hometown Suckaneers as an actual professional football team. (They are 2-13 as I write this).

As a side note (or rant) ... in the two years we have been Bucs' season-ticket holders, I have seen the team win in our home stadium exactly 1 time. Yes, once. In two years. And that's why we call them the Suckaneers.

Luckily, the not-much-better-than-the-Bucs Jacksonville Jaguars play just 3 hours from where we live. Why is that good? Because they happen to be in the same division as our beloved Indianapolis Colts. And that means, at least once a year, the Colts come to Florida.

LJ at the Colts-Jags game

For the second straight year we bought tickets to the Jags-Colts game. And for the second straight year, we randomly chose a hotel that wasn't too far from the stadium and where we could also use our hotel points and not have to actually pay for the rooms.

When we arrived at the hotel, the place was buzzing. There were lots of people lingering in the lobby. There were temporary black drapes hanging in front of the elevator vestibule. There were security guards sitting near the hallway.

The hotel was so busy, in fact, that we were told there was no way we could get two rooms that connected to each other.

When we pressed for a reason, we were told that the hotel was completely full. There was a wedding happening on site, and there were people in town for the Jags game (like us), and there was also a football team staying at the hotel.

"Which football team," we asked?

"The University of Pennsylvania," the desk clerk said.

I became suspicious. The guys milling around the lobby were way bigger than most college players I knew. And they were certainly a lot bigger than the guys who would play at a Ivy League school like Penn.

These were ginormous, massive human beings. Absolute beasts.

And I was pretty certain that not a single one of them suited up for the mighty Penn Quakers.

Then I noticed a local news guy with a TV camera.

Curious.

Then, some teenage boys asking one of the players to autograph a helmet.

A Colts helmet.

More curious.

Julianna, who was done with all the speculation, decided to take matters into her own hands.

She marched confidently up to one of the players, looked him in the eye, and said, "Excuse me, but do you play for the Indianapolis Colts?"

Julianna and Colts' Head Coach Chuck Pagano

The side of the player's mouth curled into a smirk, and he just nodded his headed up and down slowly.

Julianna stood there, staring at him, mouth agape, and said, "Uh, okay."

SURPRISE!

We had inadvertently chosen the same hotel as the Indianapolis Colts. Who knew they would stay at an unassuming Marriott in an office park just off the highway?

During our brief stay at the hotel, the kids were able to say hello to future Hall of Fame kicker Adam Vinatieri, get a glimpse of Andrew Luck, and even pose for a photo with Head Coach Chuck Pagano.

Oh, and incidentally, the player Julianna questioned in the lobby? That was the starting running back, Trent Richardson.

Best of all, the Colts won big over the Jags, 44-17.

At least a good team plays in Florida once a year.

DECEMBER - Beneath the Surface

In September I had a small spot on my face biopsied. Really, it looked just like a tiny red patch of dry skin on the side of my nose. But the results came back positive for two different types of skin cancer -- basal cell and squamous cell -- and combined they are known as a rare type of cancer called basosquamous.

SURPRISE!

Thanksgiving dinner, pre-surgery

Without going into too much detail, I'll give a quick update of where things stand now. Fortunately, the cancer did not metastasize. And in early December I had two surgeries -- one to remove the cancer, and another to graft skin to fill in the giant hole the cancer left on my face.

The good news is that, although I am probably months away from looking "normal" and going outside without a band-aid over my face, I will be fine.

We've done our best to face this with humor (no pun intended). My Christmas gifts included some fashionable Colts band-aids to cover my wound.

And as LJ so eloquently put it before the surgery, "Mom, this is one time you really DO need a hole in your head."

Touche.

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The events recapped here are just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to an eventful year for our family.

There have been plenty of highs, a few lows, and clearly, lots of surprises.

Here's wishing you and your family a wonderful New Year in 2015 -- one filled with love, laughter, and surprises -- but hopefully only the good kind.

But What About Me?

Now that LJ is a teenager, I never know what to expect when it comes to conversation.

Many days, our only interactions consist of him rolling his eyes at me and taking deep, exaggerated, annoyed sighs.

Okay, maybe we both do that.

LJ tells me that I nag him too much (hence the eye rolling and deep breathing), so I have begun to tread lightly when it comes to poking and prodding him about the details of his mundane day-to-day activities.

As we navigate "the drama years" of teenage-hood, LJ and I seem to have come to an understanding: if he's awake by noon, wears deodorant, and does most of his homework, I should not ask questions and just stay the heck out of the way.

This arrangement seems to be working quite well for us.

But today, as I picked LJ up from his Javascript programming camp, I was feeling curious. I was feeling brazen.  I was feeling ... well, maybe I was feeling the three cups of coffee I had during my staff meeting.

Whatever the reason for my feelings, I decided to throw caution to the wind and ask LJ the always combative and often controversial question ...

"How was your day?"

I braced for impact. And eye rolls. And deep, exaggerated, annoyed sighs.

Instead, I got a flurry of excited, non-stop words. Actual words that didn't include, "Go away" or "close the door behind you."

Instead, LJ preceded to gush about how awesome his camp counselors were, and how they were going to personalize the next day's lesson just for him.

When I asked LJ to explain what he meant, he said that much of the camp's curriculum was centered on self-directed web-based learning. LJ knows that passively watching something on a computer screen is not how he learns best -- he learns by doing and prefers to have a "guide on the side" to lead him down the correct path.

LJ told his counselors about his learning preferences and, lo-and-behold, they responded by saying they would tweak their program to make sure he was getting what he needed.

*******

The parent in me was thrilled to hear that LJ is enjoying camp and that his counselors are making sure he has a positive experience.

But the school administrator in me began to consider the greater meaning to LJ's interactions with his counselors.

LJ has been fortunate to attend two schools (Ravenscroft and Academy at the Lakes), that encourage students to advocate for themselves and recognize that each student has a unique learning style.

But what if all schools (and all classrooms) looked like this? What if all students were empowered to say, "That's not how I learn best."

And what if all teachers, classrooms, and schools were equipped to answer, "Then let's do it your way."

What if? 

What could learning look like? Especially for the students -- like LJ -- who know themselves well enough to articulate that they don't learn by staring at a screen or a whiteboard?

What if all students like LJ could do, touch, and feel their way through their educational journeys?

What if?

*******

I realize that this is a meta-existential-uber-level hypothetical question with no real answer.

But as a parent and as a someone with a passion for education, it sure is fun to consider and dream what it could look like for our students.

Just imagine if more students weren't moved to roll their eyes, or take deep, exaggerated, annoyed breaths when we asked them to learn in a way that fits like a square peg in a round hole.

Just imagine if all students never had to ask the question, "But what about me?" 

Amazon Adventure: Day 3 - On Top of the World

Today is the day LJ has been waiting for -- we're heading to the canopy zip line.

Given that it was named by Fox News as one of the Top 15 Craziest Zip Lines in the World, I have some pretty high expectations. (No pun intended).

We load into canoes and begin the 20 minute trek through the dense rainforest that lies behind the Tahuayo Lodge. 

We are visiting right at the end of the Amazon's wet season. As the dry season begins, the water level of the river will drop rapidly -- so much so that Cesar tells us that in just a few days, the water we are now canoeing in will be replaced by mud.

*******

The zip line platforms tower over us. In fact, I can barely see the top, which is more than 100 feet in the air.

LJ on his way up to the canopy zip line platform

Using their bare hands, our guides work a pulley system to hoist us, one by one, above the rainforest. It's exhausting work for them, I am sure. There are nine of us in the group and three guides take turns with the pulley.

Once atop the platform, the view is incredible. It gives me an entirely different perspective of the canopy, its birds, and yes, its flying, buzzing insects. 

LJ wants to be the first across the zip line -- and nobody stops him. I'm content to be the last one through the course. I figure that if the other eight group members make it across without the line snapping, chances are pretty good that I'll make it too.

It's my turn now, and our guide, Samuel, urges me, Vamos!

But I'm frozen. Even though I've been zip lining before, I'm mentally stuck.

The view from the top

This course is so high, so remote, I just can't will myself to move.

I take a few deep breaths and remind myself what Cesar told us when we first arrived at the zip line. Each year, engineers are brought here from the U.S. to check the safety of the course. Because the trees (which serve as the anchors for the zip lines), are under water for about half the year, they must be checked with regularity.

I survey my options and figure I don't have much of a choice. After all, I'm 100 feet in the air and attached to a rope, a harness, a steel wire, and a couple of carabiners. 

I don't really see any other way out.

I take a deep breath and decide to go for it.

Besides, if I chicken out now, LJ and Julianna will never let me live it down.

There's no turning back now

Amazon Adventure: Day 2 - The Jungle Love Triangle

During our return trip from Terra Firma, I start to drift off. But I feel the boat coming to a stop so I open my eyes to find us pulling up to the river bank just opposite a small village.

Here, we are greeted not by Peruvian villagers, but instead by three very curious woolly monkeys.

These monkeys have names -- Durilla, Chepa, and Rocky. Durilla and Chepa are female. Rocky is the youngest, and he is male. Durilla, by far the largest of the three, scrambles down the trees toward the boat. But the driver immediately backs away, not wanting Durilla to get too close.

Papaya was very popular with Rocky

Instead, we maneuver to a 3x3 wooden platform hanging from one of the jungle trees. Nelly places several pieces of fresh fruit on the platform. Durilla swings over to scoop up the fruit and then disappears back into the trees.

We steer toward the low branch of a tree that juts out over the river. Nelly tries to entice Chepa with a juicy piece of papaya. Chepa is intrigued by the offering, as is Rocky, but neither takes the bait.

Instead, Durilla comes scampering back through the trees, once again eager to socialize with our group.

As before, the driver instantly backs the boat into the river and away from Durilla.

*******

At a gathering prior to our Amazon trip, I recall Dr. Paul Beaver, one of the co-owners of the lodge, talking about how a gorilla had recently bit one of the visitors. 

I remember being horrified at the thought ... what an enormous, painful bite that must have been! 

Never mind the fact that there are no gorillas in the Amazon basin. 

I didn't really think about that at the time. I was too focused on my fear of being attacked by a vicious, man-eating, 300-lb. beast. 

Think Outbreak, but with me and Jack standing in for Rene Russo and Dustin Hoffman.

*******

The monkeys were just as interested in us as we were in them.

Now, as we play this game of jungle hide-and-seek with Durilla, the woolly monkey, I begin to connect the dots. 

It was Durilla that bit someone. Not a gorilla.

Oh.

Well, that's a little less terrifying.

Nevertheless, we avoid Durilla and continue to try and lure Chepa to the boat.

But Chepa is still leery. Instead, she climbs to a branch about 20 feet above us and hangs from her tail. Nelly grabs a piece of orange and tosses it high in the air. Not missing a beat, Chepa stabs her paw into the air and snares the fruit.

She devours the fruit, discards the rind into the river, and waits for more.

Over and over again, Nelly tosses and Chepa catches.

I am endlessly entertained. 

When Nelly pitches the fruit too low and it splashes into the water, Chepa lets us know she is not pleased, unleashing a series of loud grunts. 

I suppose it's just her way of coaching Nelly to throw the fruit a bit higher ... a little monkey talk.

Apparently this game of catch has made Chepa feel a little more comfortable with all the strangers. She swings and jumps her way toward the river and then carefully shimmies down the low-hanging branch. 

And just like that, there's a monkey in the boat.

Chepa squats on the boat deck and finishes off the last of the papaya, and we humans take turns gently petting her back. She doesn't even seem to notice us.

*******

Up close and personal with the woolly monkeys

As we make our way back to the lodge, we learn that these three monkeys were once pets in a nearby jungle village. Despite what you may have seen on the TV show Friends, keeping a monkey as a pet is a bad idea.

After being rescued, Durilla, Chepa, and Rocky were rehabilitated and released back into the jungle. Durilla and Chepa lived together on their own for awhile. 

BFFs, I suppose. 

Recently, however, Rocky -- the lone male -- was introduced to the mix, and you can guess what happened next. 

Durilla, the eldest female, has become a bit territorial and aggressive -- which is likely why she took a bite out of the jungle tourist. Just staking her claim.

Figures.

Even in the Amazon jungle -- and even within a troop of monkeys -- three is a crowd. 

I guess you could call it a jungle love triangle. 

Amazon Adventure: Day 2 - Termites, Poison Frogs, and Bats

On the Rio Blanco, en route to Terra Firma 

Today, it gets real.

Today, we're going hiking in the Amazon jungle.

We each are issued a pair of rubber boots so as not to introduce foreign microbes into the jungle with our own shoes. We also are told to wear long pants, long sleeves, bug spray, sunscreen, and hats.

I have a bit of an allergy to mosquitoes, so I'm not taking any chances. By the time I am dressed -- in the 90 degree heat and 95% humidity -- I feel like I am sporting full body armor. And I look ridiculous ... sort of like a cross between Panama Jack and Martha Stewart in her gardening clothes.

We head out in the motor boats for Terra Firma or "dry ground." This elevated area is one of the few places that does not succumb to the rising waters during the Amazon's wet season.

Soon, we veer off of the Tahuayo River and onto Rio Blanco or "White River."

The White River gets its name from the color of the water within its banks. It's really just a muddy, brown color -- nothing close to white. But where the Tahuayo meets Rio Blanco, you can actually see the water change from nearly black to light brown.

It's not that either river is dirty -- far from it -- there is no visible litter in or along the rivers. The dark water colors come from the sediment in the river and the decomposition of the jungle's plants.

After about an hour on Rio Blanco, we unload into a clearing and split into two groups for our jungle hike.

LJ at the foot of the Terra Firma trail

This time our guide is Cesar (pronounced Say-czar). Through his thick Peruvian accent, Cesar tells us he's been a jungle guide for nearly a dozen years.

I calculate that if Cesar's been in the jungle a dozen years and he's still alive and well, then I should feel pretty good about my chances of coming out on the other side.

As long as I don't lose sight of him. 

Also guiding us is Celeste (pronounced Suh-lest-eh). I learn that the word Celeste, in Spanish is a color -- essentially what we would call "sky blue" in English. She's only been on the job about 9 months, and appears to be in her late teens or early 20s.

I try to remember what I was doing when I was 20 years old. I'm pretty sure it involved a fake ID and some poor decisions. But I'm also fairly certain it didn't involve machetes, anacondas, and tarantulas.

*******

The humidity in the jungle is oppressive. The air is so thick it feels like a weight bearing down on my upper body. For a moment I wonder if I can possibly survive hiking like this for three hours.

But as I begin to focus on my surroundings and not just my sweat-soaked clothing, I am enthralled by what I see.

I have been on jungle hikes before -- both in St. Lucia and Belize -- but there really is no comparison.

The richness of biodiversity is evident from the moment we step onto the trail. Cesar points out a variety of native trees, including those used for medicinal purposes like the iodine tree, as well as those used for household purposes like the rubber tree.

WHACK! 

Cesar strikes the trunk of the rubber tree with his machete, and a white, milky-looking sap begins to ooze. Cesar places a bit in my hand, and after rubbing my palms together for just a moment, a rubber band appears where the sap once was.

Next, Cesar stops our group at a huge dirt ball that clings to the trunk of a tree.

WHACK!

Bug spray for the brave, aka termites

Suddenly, hundreds of small, red termites swarm from the mound. Cesar summons Jack to the tree and tells him to place his hands over the termites.

This is definitely one time where I'm happy not to be picked first.

Cesar instructs Jack to smash the termites in his hands to make a paste, and then spread it on his arms and neck.Why? Because termite mush makes an excellent homemade bug repellant.

And we Americans think termites are just wood-eating, house-destroying nuisances.

*******

The elusive poison dart frog

One reason we came to hike at Terra Firma is to find poison dart frogs. They are supposed to be plentiful in this part of the jungle, but this has to be a hundred times worse than finding the proverbial needle in a haystack.

While brightly-colored (yellow, red, blue, etc.), poison dart frogs are no more than about a 1/2-inch long. So after a lot of searching and even more sweating, I am beginning to feel like this is a hopeless quest.

And then, Colby, one of the boys in our group, spots it.

How, I have no idea. The teeny tiny yellow and black frog was clinging to a tree, camouflaged by leaves. Carefully, Cesar catches the frog by scooping it up with a leaf.

But now, the frog is hopping up Cesar's arm -- and he's NOT in long sleeves. And now it's moved to the nape of Cesar's neck.

And he's cringing.

And you can tell he wants that frog off of his neck -- NOW.

Cesar with the dart frog on his shoulder -- before it lands on his neck

This is because Cesar knows that the poison dart frog -- depending upon the species -- could be carrying a very toxic substance on its back.

One of our group members is able to shoo the frog off of Cesar's neck and back to the jungle floor.

Crisis averted.

Cesar laughs and seems very relieved. He'll live another day -- maybe even see year number 13 as a jungle guide.

I ask Celeste whether she's ever touched a poison dart frog before.

Yes, she tells me. Once she got some of the poison on her hands, and after touching her mouth, could not feel her lips for four agonizingly long hours.

Crisis averted. Truly.

*******

My little super hero braves the "Bat Cave"

Eventually, we approach an enormous, rotting, hollowed-out tree that is sprawled across the jungle floor.

Along with two of the older boys in our group, Julianna -- without hesitation -- crawls inside.

No big deal, right?

Except that this tree is home to a colony of BATS.

Fruit bats, fisher bats, long-nose bats, and even vampire bats. Dozens upon dozens of them hang from the top of the tree's inside.

A closer look at a group of long-nose bats

Despite wading through ankle-deep puddles of bat guano, Julianna emerges no worse for wear.

But I cannot believe what I just saw.

Is this really the same 11-year-old girly girl who's afraid of houseflies?

Amazon Adventure: Day 1 - Plumbing, Pauraque, and Rats

Daytime at Tahuayo Lodge

We arrive after dark at Tahuayo Lodge, and are greeted with a welcome drink of purple corn juice. Delicious. Sweet and syrupy, it leaves a deep violet-colored mustache on LJ's upper lip.

Despite being immersed in the Amazon basin, there is electricity and plumbing here, but it's not quite plumbing as we know it in the U.S. Our introduction to the lodge includes a plumbing primer, which was most definitely eye-opening.

Our showers have only cold water, because, as stated on the lodge's website, "in the Amazon rainforest, (hot water) will become a soup of mycobacteria ... (which) can be be inhaled into the lungs and cause a serious, tubercular pulmonary infection."

Alrighty then. Cold showers it is!

Also, we are implored not to flush any toilet paper in the toilets because as the signs posted around the lodge warn us, "If you think it's difficult to get a plumber at home, just try doing it in the jungle."

Fair point.

We then head down one of the piers to our room - an elevated palm-leaf covered hut with four beds and a simple bathroom.

Dim, ceiling-mounted LEDs (one per hut) light our way as we unpack, and we get settled just before the drum bangs signaling that it's time for our first Peruvian meal.

Our dinner surpasses anything I could have imagined. We enjoy a feast of rice, vegetables, and meat, finishing our meal with a honey-flavored cake.

I'm beginning to think that my plan to lose a few pounds during this vacation may not materialize. 

*******

This bird didn't stand a chance.

Our first excursion is led by our guide, Nelly, who has worked for Amazonia Expeditions for three years. It's a pitch black, cloudy sky, and we head via motor boat in search of nocturnal creatures. Armed with only a headlamp and a machete, Nelly, who grew up in the the villages that pepper the jungle landscape, fearlessly leads us down the Tahuayo River. 

Everyone is silent as she signals to our boat driver to slow down and kill the engine. 

Nelly has her eye on a small bird that is sleeping amongst the brush along the riverbank. As our boat approaches the bank, she crouches on the bough of the boat, slowly reaches her arms to the bird, and then grabs it with both hands. 

Nelly's prisoner is a common pauraque, a nocturnal bird that's native to the tropics and sub-tropics. Right now, it just looks petrified.

After telling us a few fun facts about the bird, Nelly gingerly places the pauraque back where she found it, and we head off in search of more creatures.

Edible tree rat

Just up the river we come across a Peruvian tree rat. It's the stuff right out of nightmares as it's three times the size of any rat I've ever seen before.

Rat fact: Did you know that there are two different types of rats in the Amazon? The kind you can eat, and the kind you can't. Nelly explains that certain tree rats are poisonous to eat because they consume toxic flowers.

The one we have found, apparently, is edible.

I consider this for a moment as we head back to the lodge. 

I suppose it is best to know which is which if you are a connoisseur of rat.

In this case, I'll just take Nelly's word for it. 

No need for a taste test.

Amazon Adventure: Day 1 - The Arrival

View of the Amazon River as we land in Iquitos

My high school Spanish is failing me other than simple words like "nombre" and "pais" -- I'm having a very difficult time deciphering the declaration ticket for Peru. Between the four of us - and with a little guesswork - we piece enough together that I feel comfortable that I won't be detained by the Peruvian immigration authorities. At least I think I won't ...

*******

Long, long customs wait

After an hour-long wait at customs in the Iquitos airport (there was just ONE official working and he was painstakingly thorough), we board the bus and head for our boat to the jungle. The bus ride is both fascinating and sobering. Iquitos, which is the fifth largest city in Peru, is not what I expected. 

I expected a more modern city, but instead, the population of 400,000 seems to be very impoverished. Stray dogs roam the street, many citizens wander barefooted, and the majority of the homes look uninhabitable by American standards.

The kids' reaction? SILENCE. Until now, there were lots of questions, excited chatter, and a few complaints in the customs line. 

Now? Nothing.

For Julianna, who is outside the U.S. for the first time, and for LJ, who probably doesn't remember much about his only other trip abroad, I am pretty sure they are in shock. 

Iquitos sure is a hell of a lot different than the "bubble" they've known in North Carolina and Florida.

Julianna says she was expecting a city with skyscrapers. LJ says he thought the city would be in "better shape."

Iquitos homes

That aside, LJ does manage to find silver lining.

"Mom, there is something WAY better here ... the stoplights actually have a countdown so you know when they'll turn green."

Hmmm ... we could be in for a long week.

No doubt this is a kid who loves to know exactly what is coming next. 

But I'm thinking the only thing he may be able to count during this adventure is that there will surely be surprises at every turn.

Iquitos is the largest city in the world with no road access. You can only get there by boat or air.

Going off the Grid

Two days from now, I'm going to do exactly what each and every mother of a young child has dreamed of doing at least once.

I'm going off the grid.

It's true.

I'm turning off the cell phone and leaving my laptop behind. If you need to reach me, forget about it. I'm as good as gone.

For seven nights and eight days there will be no email, meetings, conference calls, deadlines, laundry folding, dish washing, lunch packing, grocery shopping, homework correcting, checking for monsters under the bed, or picking up dog poo in the back yard.

I need a break. And I'm getting one.

But I'm not opting for the white, sandy beaches of the Caribbean, or the secluded mountains of the Rockies. In fact, I'm not even heading for the Hampton Inn right up the road.

Moms, I know you're with me when I say that some days, a room alone at the Hampton Inn would be a freaking 5-star vacation.

Instead, I'm going to the Amazon jungle.

To stay in a hut.

With no air conditioning.

With no roads in or out.

With the kids.

And I can't wait.

I've never experienced anything close to this type of adventure, and as I begin my 40th year, I'm at the top of the proverbial hill looking down. It's exactly the perspective I need. I'm hoping to push both my mental and physical limits in a way I haven't done since, well, ever.

As for the kids?

They will be so far out of their iPod element that they won't know what hit them. And what could be better than that?

This will be a week with nothing but family time, new experiences, and immense challenges.

I'm sure we'll have many stories, photos, and memories to share when we return from Peru. But all in due time.

For eight days and seven nights, as they say in the jungle ...

Hasta luego y no trates de encontrarme.



For more info on where we're headed, visit www.perujungle.com. 

A Letter to My Son

As part of a family history project for Jack's 7th grade Language Arts class at Academy at the Lakes, parents were asked to write a letter to their child. If you haven't ever done this for your own child, I strongly encourage it. What a wonderful gift for us both.

Jack, I have so many good memories of you that I hardly know where to start. But how about I start with Halloween night -- October 31, 2003?

You were not quite 3 years old but there was no doubt what you were you going to be that night. Your favorite TV show at the time was Bob the Builder, and I can remember watching it with you every afternoon in the den of our home in Greensboro, N.C.

Of course, you chose to dress up as the man himself, Bob the Builder. This was a man who was in charge, knew how to get things done, and was never too busy to lend a hand to friends and strangers alike.

As the theme song says, “Bob the Builder, can we fix it? Bob the Builder, YES WE CAN!”

Donning your blue jumpsuit and yellow hard hat, and with a hammer by your side, you were ready to conquer anything that came your way while trick-or-treating in our neighborhood, Adam’s Farm.

That Halloween, the street of Old Fox Trail filled with children and their parents as they trick-or-treated up and down the road. With you and Julianna being so young, your Ladybug sister sat in a stroller, and you rode in your green and grey Little Tykes Wagon.

What is most memorable about that night for your dad and me was how, at each house we visited, you eagerly jumped out of the wagon, navigated the steps to the front door, and before even asking your neighbors for candy, boldly declared to them, “I am Bob the Builder. I will fix that for you!”

And then you proceeded to hammer their front porch.

Cute story, I know … but why does this particular one stand out for me?

I think it’s because even at the young age of 3, we were beginning to see the type of young man you would become: straight to the point; caring; a “fixer”; and someone who is always was willing to help out a friend or stranger.

Today, I see those same traits in your willingness to help your sister with her math homework; in your genuine love and concern and for all animals and those people closest to you; and in your ability to help me conquer any technological or engineering task.

You’re my go-to guy -- the one who I know can get things done. I can always count on you to “fix it for me.”

Jack, although you are only 13 years old, I have already collected a lifetime of memories: birthdays and holidays; sports games and chess tournaments; talking football on the ride to school; racing at the annual Woolly Worm Festival in the mountains; riding rollercoasters with you until you are satisfied and I am sick … I cherish every moment -- even the ones where I’m nagging you to get out of bed or put away your laundry.

As I used to tell you when you were 3, I love you more than a million hippopotamuses.

And I can’t wait to remember the rest of what’s to come. 

A Teenager's Lesson for Vince Lombardi

"Winners never quit, and quitters never win." - Vince Lombardi

Vince Lombardi (Photo from Sports Illustrated)

If anybody could speak to being a winner, it was Vince Lombardi.

As the coach of the Green Bay Packers, he won two Super Bowl titles and five NFL championships. And the Hall of Famer never experienced a losing season as an NFL head coach.

But thanks to my 13-year-old son, Lombardi's quote now rings a bit hollow for me. Just a few weeks into his first season of conditioning workouts with the school's football team, LJ quit on his coach and his teammates.

And I support it.

In fact, not only do I support it, I can say that I watched my son mature and grow through the process -- even as he pronounced himself to be a quitter.

First, let me say that I absolutely love LJ's football coach. He's the right blend of tough and tender; cares deeply for his players; and always puts academics first. He holds his players accountable for their actions and choices, and as a parent, that's really all I could ask for.

LJ's issue with football wasn't the coach. And really, it wasn't the football.

It was everything else.

Although LJ just began workouts in January, he was already feeling the pinch on other areas -- wanting to participate in activities like Science Olympiad and chess, while also juggling his regular academic load in school. He arrived home exhausted after workouts, and started to feel the effects in the classroom with forgotten homework assignments and careless mistakes.

LJ wondered aloud how he would possibly manage it all when the "real" season began in August with even longer and more frequent practices, late night travel on game days, and an equally tough course load.

But Jack and I encouraged LJ ... told him his grades were fine (which they were), and that he could do it all if he just put his mind to it and just wanted it enough.

The mantra?

Our children will not be quitters.

Winners never quit, and quitters never win.

LJ kept a positive attitude through it all. He didn't complain about sore muscles. He talked excitedly about being part of the team and "earning" whatever minutes he might get on the field. And he began to develop a deep respect for his coach.

But earlier this week, I found LJ in my office after school, when instead he should have been at football practice.

I asked him why he was in my office, and he said, "Didn't you check your email, Mom? I sent you an email."

Irritated and feeling like I was about to hear some lame excuse, the mantra went through my mind:

My children will not be quitters.

Winners never quit, and quitters never win.

I started in on LJ, but his expression spoke volumes, so I opened my email:

Subject title:  I have Decided to Quit Football

"The stress produced from football far outweighs the benefits. This stress has prevented me from performing my best academically. I'm sorry I have had to make this decision but I am too stressed from football to continue."

And then I looked at LJ, curled up in the armchair in my office, and I simply said: "Okay. You can quit."

Future football dreams ... dashed.

With some cajoling, LJ talked to his coach in person, and gave him the same reasons for leaving the team. To his credit, the coach sensed LJ's anxiety, agreed that academics have to come first, and left the door open for him to join the team in future years.

As we walked back to my office, the relief was tangible. LJ's mood was lighter and he couldn't stop smiling.

Watching your child quit something -- walk away without remorse -- now that's a humbling moment. 

But on the inside, I was smiling too. 

Once again, my child had been way smarter than me. He knew his limits, knew when he'd reached the tipping point, and knew when to quit and be okay with it. In this case, quitting equated to winning. 

At least for LJ.

"Mom," he said, "I feel like half of my brain has just cleared out. I can think again."

Not exactly sure what was in the other half of his brain, but I didn't want to press.

Instead, I just gave him a hug and kept my mouth shut.

The NFL Hall of Fame may not be in LJ's future, but this was most definitely a Hallmark moment.

Popping "The Bubble List"

Image from chicagonow.com

Last month, Huffington Post published an article by blogger Emily Mendell called: The Bubble List: 31 Things My Sons Should Be Able To Do Before They Move Out.

If you haven't read it yet, I suggest you do. It's a well-written, poignant, and endearing piece that both moms and dads can identify with, no matter the age of your children.

The first 30 items on the list are basically actions or life-skills your child will, in theory, have to tackle at some point in his or her life. 

If I'm being honest, though, there are many items on this list that fall into one or both of two categories:

1) Never done it or had to do it (and I'm rapidly approaching 40)

2) Will be made obsolete or altered to a point of such ease that they are afterthoughts (thanks to technology and smartphones)

I couldn't care less if my son knows how to check the oil (#10) or if my daughter ever learns how to make hospital corners (#25). 

And it hasn't held me back in life that I have no clue how to sew a button (#26) or replace a fuse (#28).

There is one item on the list, however, that deeply resonates with me. And it's the final thing that Emily lists:

31. Say "no" with confidence

Now this is a skill worth learning -- and teaching.

Will my daughter confidently tell a friend, "No, I'm not getting in the car with you because you've had too much to drink." (And even more importantly, will she take the keys?)

Will my son confidently tell a teammate, "No, I'm not cool with you picking on that kid because he looks different/acts different/seems different." (And even more importantly, will he make the "different" kid feel welcome?)

Will my daughter confidently tell herself, "No, I don't need to lose five more pounds so I can look just like the model in Abercrombie?" (And even more importantly, does she realize how beautiful she really is, inside and out?)

Will my son confidently tell himself, "No, I don't need treat girls like sexual objects just because I see other guys doing it?" (And even more importantly, will he respect a girl when she says "no" with confidence?)

#31 -- Yes, this is the one thing on The Bubble List that keeps me up at night. Not just for my own kids, but for their friends, their acquaintances, and for those I've never met. 

Growing up wasn't easy for any of us, and it's exponentially harder for our own children's generation. 

Our children are constantly connected, frequently distracted, and always seeking instant gratification. Language skills are eroding because of text messaging, 140 characters, and diminished face-to-face conversations.

Saying "yes" these days is just way too easy.

So is the real issue that my kids should learn how to shave with a razor (#11) or catch the subway (#7)?

Of course not. 

It all boils down to #31.

If there's one skill we give our children -- one gift we bestow upon them before they leave "the bubble" -- we must teach them to say no with confidence. 

It's a monumental task, but it all begins with modeling. 

It's on us as parents, as educators, and as human beings, to teach our children not only to say "no" with confidence both face-to-face and in cyberspace, but also to stick to their word and stand strong when those around them cave into pressure.

Thank you, Emily, for a thought-provoking piece. 

And I especially thank you for saving the best for last.