I had decided with all our mountain driving that sea-level had more than a few advantages. The driving was easy when the streets faced each other in perfect right angles. The drivers were relaxed as they waved to each other at stop signs.
Another advantage was that the oxygen was dense. A deep breath, saturated with molecules, went into the bloodstream and traveled all over the body. The brain had millions of molecules to choose from. Maybe this was the biggest advantage. I liked my brain getting oodles of oxygen. It worked better. At these high altitudes, the brain couldn’t afford to pass up even a single molecule. I hadn’t had any problems with the thin air so far, but now my breathing was becoming more and more rapid.
I stared straight ahead on the curvy cross-laden road and didn’t utter a sound. With my fingernails in my mouth awaiting a bite, the words would have sounded more like blubbering than speaking and I didn’t want to scare the girls.
We arrived in Rocky Mountain National Park well before five o’clock in the afternoon. The hotel had a swimming pool, the first since Rapid City. None of us wanted to budge for the rest of the day.
It truly was fate the day Paul met the traveling grandfather in Jackson Hole. Since two of the three adults were on the verge of losing it completely, we needed direction from someone. What are the chances of meeting one person who would change your outlook on everything from bribery to promoting dental caries?
After the first trying day, the grandfather’s nickels worked like a wonderful magic spell on Anne and Clare. I won’t say that there were no altercations between them, but Anne became too busy playing cards and reading to think about what Clare was doing or wearing. At a certain point—I’m not sure when—Clare decided it wasn’t worth it to keep looking for things she could react to, and she went back to her books. Erin took a two hour nap without being jolted out of dreams of unlimited candy and treats.
By the end of the first day in Colorado, Clare’s and Anne’s senses of humor were coming back. I was heartened by this return of humor because Clare was one of those people who was naturally funny. When she wasn’t protesting social injustice in the family, she was clever and witty. Anne had a drier sense of humor than Clare but it was just as funny. And when Anne laughed, she still belly laughed like a baby.
I had also missed their nicknames. Annie had become Anne Rachel and Clare Bear had become Clare Elizabeth in the preceding days of war.
The girls were happy with how much of the two dollars they had left after the drive into Colorado. Erin had the full two dollars, Anne had one dollar and 90 cents, and Clare had one dollar and 60 cents. The three girls each had a bag of candy to hang onto. They brought them down to the pool and the indoor hot tub.
“Would you watch my candy?” Clare asked me.
“Sure, Bear.” Things were looking up.
“Mine too?”
“Sure, Annie,” Things were really looking up.
They got into the hot tub together. Things couldn’t have gotten much higher.
The next day we went to the town of Estes Park. The girls had slept late so we waited until after lunch. With the mountains all around, the town lay in a beautiful setting.
It was Paul’s birthday and we wanted to celebrate. Everyone had the job of keeping him occupied while the others shopped. My mother and I bought a cake and some candles. I found an assortment of different combs including a mustache comb. The girls each got him a little present. They were so excited about the cake, they couldn’t wait.
“Do you think Dad will like the cake?”
“I think so.”
“Do you think he’ll like his presents?”
“I think so.”
“Do you think he’ll use the mustache comb?”
“I think so. I hope so.”
We went to dinner at five o’clock, went back to the motel, lit the candles, sang “Happy Birthday” many times, cut the cake, and opened the presents.
Paul combed his mustache with the little comb.
It was a wonderful celebration.
I even sang Irish songs before the girls went to sleep. As much as they disliked my singing in the morning, they asked me to sing to them at night. My voice was limited in range but I loved the Irish songs. I sang “The Rose of Tralee,” “Too Ra Loo Ra Loo Ra,” and the last was my favorite “Danny Boy.” The girls didn’t mind that I had trouble hitting all the notes.
I’m sure the man in the Old Faithful Inn would have sung them much better, but then he wouldn’t have been laying in bed with three girls hugging him.
I was a little worried about the long drive through Nebraska and Iowa. Would the nickels continue their enchantment with the hours of driving ahead?
We started early the next morning, deciding we would drive until we had all had enough.
We bought some sandwiches and had a picnic in a pretty park in the northern part of Nebraska. We pointed to Lincoln, Nebraska on the map as a good place to stop. But when we got close to Lincoln, we drove on, making it as far as Grand Island, Nebraska before we quit for the night.
Each of the three girls had two full dollars left when we found our motel. They picked out their treats, put on their swimming suits, and went down to the pool.
I wished that I could have thanked the wise grandfather. As far as I was concerned he and his nickels had come directly from heaven.
The next day we were on the road early again. We stopped at Offnutt Air Force Base in Omaha, the site of the Strategic Air Command. The hour-long look around the museum provided an interesting break from driving. Later we stood outside next to the B-52s.
“Wow, these are big,” Clare said.
“Like Tyrannosaurus Rex,” Anne said.
Erin leaned against Paul at the mention of Tyrannosaurus Rex.
We returned to the van and headed towards Iowa.
Iowa was lush and green with mile after mile of perfect rows of corn. The stalks swayed together with the warm breezes. We thought we would stop in Des Moines for the night, but the vote was six to zero to keep driving until we got home.
The most unusual thing happened when we crossed the Minnesota border with Iowa. The sun was on its downward curve towards the horizon.
“A rainbow. A rainbow,” Anne exclaimed.
We looked out the windows and saw the most brilliantly colored rainbow. The colors were so crisp that it looked as if there was a line between each of them. The perfect arch gave the illusion that we were driving right under it. We could see it on either side. Soon our exclamations became even louder.
“There’s another one,” Clare cried out, pointing to the sky.
“Let me see.” Anne smashed her face against the window.
“Let me see.” Erin’s nose was completely flattened on the glass windowpane.
“Oh, my gosh. Look at that,” Paul said.
Next to the first rainbow was a twin. Not quite as brilliant as the first, but nonetheless, a full arch. So we drove along, loving our Minnesota with a double archway as a welcome.
“I have never seen anything like that,” Grandma said.
“Me either,” I said.
“It’s beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous.”
I was glad I wasn’t driving because I couldn’t keep my eyes off the sight on either side of us. The rainbows were still escorting us as the sky gave way to twilight. We strained to see the colors. Red became just a blush and the green faded into the trees. Soon the darkness wrapped around us and the colors were gone.
“That was the best rainbow,” Anne said.
“Rainbows,” said Clare. “There were two.”
“The best rainbows.”
“I love twin rainbows the best,” Erin said.
We walked into our house with the moon and stars shining. We had the whole winter ahead of us to discuss the next summer’s travels. The Grand Canyon would be a great place to visit.
With our nickels we could go anywhere.
Seven
The Right Formula
Each new
person changes family dynamics forever and ever.
Winter was not the quiet time we had envisioned. Anne began first grade, we sold our house, I found out I was pregnant again, we moved on January second, we painted walls, and removed old carpeting while I got fatter and fatter. Our fourth daughter was born on June 1, 1986.
Instead of driving to the Grand Canyon or elsewhere, the entire summer was spent taking care of baby Colleen. She was a cheerful, calm baby which was lucky for her and all of us.
Anne picked her up immediately whenever she made a peep. Three very willing sisters provided bottles, gave baths, ran to get diapers, put powder on, changed sleepers, and carried the diaper bag.
Our days were filled with meeting the baby’s needs. She had four faces staring at her whenever she drank a bottle; four faces staring at her whenever she had a bath. She was kissed so many times in one day that I told the girls to move their kisses around so she wouldn’t get indentations in her head.
I had breast fed the other three while they were getting up at night. I tried to do the same with Colleen, but I was so tired after spending just a day and a half in the hospital that it wasn’t going very well. I didn’t have enough milk. After a week, I gave up and decided to use the formula alone.
The squabbles started before I was fully recovered.
“It’s my turn to feed the baby,” Clare said.
Anne ignored her and continued feeding three-week old Colleen her bottle.
“Mom, she did it last time,” Clare shouted.
“Clare, stop yelling. Is that true, Anne?” I asked.
“I guess so.”
“You have to let the other girls have time with Colleen, too.”
“I never get to feed the baby,” Erin twittered.
“I don’t either,” Clare said.
I was thinking I didn’t either, but it really didn’t matter. This was coming to a head quickly. I was beginning to feel like I was in the van again with brawling sisters. The problem was mainly Anne and Clare, but Erin was putting in her two-cents worth, too. She had become more assertive in the last year with her two older sisters. Although I felt that was good for Erin, at this point I didn’t need three girls fighting. Since they all wanted the baby to themselves, it was no holds barred.
At least two girls quarreled at all times. Sometimes I could have sworn I had a dozen girls in the house. The only thing that stopped their incessant arguing was the rare occasion when the baby started crying because of their noise. The voices lowered but whoever had been fighting blamed the baby’s crying on their sparring partner. It was always the other guy’s fault. I was so exhausted by the time Paul got home every day, I wanted to go right to bed. There I could rip out my hair in peace and quiet.
Nickels wouldn’t work in this situation, but I thought I better address the problems. Otherwise, they’d be fighting all summer over the baby. The poor baby was going to wish she was somewhere else. I had to deal with the immediate situation, then I could try a more long-term solution.
“Clare, you can feed her the next bottle, okay?”
“Okay, but I never get to hold her either.”
“That’s a different issue. Let’s take care of the bottles first. Erin, after Clare, it’s your turn.”
“Okay,” Erin said.
We had already divided her body into four different sections for her baths. The baths took a full hour. As long as someone was spraying Colleen with the water, she stayed warm. I took the head and bottom. The three girls had their own leg front and back, or both arms. The chest and stomach were also separated. If one of the other girls went out of their territory with soap and washcloth, the area was washed over again. One of them remarked that we should just have the baby marked with magic marker so there wouldn’t be any mistakes. The three agreed.
“I think Dad and I are going to wash the baby after you’re all in bed.”
“No,” the three said in harmony.
“No magic markers, then.”
No one ever brought it up again. Colleen continued to laugh as we soaped, sprayed, and powdered her.
Now I had to think about how I was going to divide the bottle feeding. The mornings posed the biggest problem. Paul took the early morning feeding, then went to work before the three older girls woke up. Colleen was back in bed by six-thirty. Her three big sisters were usually awake by seven or seven-thirty. They waited for Colleen to wake up so they could give her her bottle. When she stirred about nine o’clock, my face and three other faces peered into her crib.
The three sisters were blessed with plenty of young vigor while I dragged my body to the kitchen to warm up the bottle. Anne usually carried Colleen downstairs and then announced it was her turn to feed the baby.
“No, it’s not, it’s my turn,” Clare said. “Mom,” she yelled.
“I never get a turn,” Erin said while holding her blanket. She liked to cover Colleen with her blanket while she fed her.
I was glad they were so interested in Colleen but I was getting exasperated. I thought about telling them I was going to take over all of the feedings. Then a brilliant idea came to me.
“This is what we’re going to do,” I began.
“About what?” Anne asked.
“About the baby.”
“What’s wrong with the baby?”
“Nothing’s wrong. Let me finish.”
All eyes and hopefully ears were glued on me. “You all want to give the baby her bottles, right?”
“Right.” The three agreed.
“Every third morning will be your morning.”
“I don’t get it,” Clare said.
“Well. Today is your morning, Clare. That means you feed Colleen her bottle and she’s yours until she takes a nap.”
“You mean I can hold her without someone else grabbing her?”
“That’s what I mean.”
“Cool,” Clare said.
Clare fed Colleen her bottle, burped her, and wiped her mouth. I put the baby on the inside of the couch so she could lie with Clare. Every 30 seconds or so, Colleen got another kiss. In an hour, I took Colleen and put her back in the crib for a nap.
The next day was Erin’s turn. I helped her with the bottle and burping. Then, I put Colleen on the inside of the couch again and she was all Erin’s.
This worked so well that we continued with it throughout the summer. I didn’t have to keep track of whose turn it was; the girls did that just fine.
Every morning the four of us walked with baby Colleen in the stroller. The girls took turns pushing her and answering questions from the neighbors. In the afternoons, the girls were busy with friends or doing other things. I loved the afternoons because I had some quiet time with my brand new daughter.
September came quickly. Anne started second grade and Clare started kindergarten. This was nice for Erin, who was more reticent than the other two. She had about three hours every day alone with the baby and me. To Erin’s delight, she got to feed Colleen all her bottles when the others were at school.
We didn’t drive to the Grand Canyon the next summer either. Instead, we left one-year-old Colleen with grandparents and took our three older girls to Wisconsin Dells. It wasn’t the same without her.
“I wonder what Colleen is doing.”
This statement was made many times a day by one of us.
“Do you think she’ll forget us?”
The girls worried about this possibility, especially on day three. I assured them that this wouldn’t happen; that she remembered us.
“Do you think she’s mad at us for leaving her?” Anne asked.
“No.”
One night we saw the Tommy Bartlett show. Waterskiers thrilled us with many amazing tricks in their fast-moving performance. I loved it except something was missing.
“Colleen would have loved Tommy Bartlett,” Clare said.
That’s what was missing!
We took a ride on the Wisconsin Ducks, which are amphibious watercraft from World War Tw
o. We had a hair-raising ride through the woods and ended up in Lake Delton. The driver had to engage many gears to make the transition from land to water.
“The Ducks,” Erin began, “Colleen would’ve loved them.”
We took a trip down the beautiful Wisconsin River to see the unusual rock formations. We went miniature golfing, saw the Indian ceremonial, and spent a day at a water park.
“There were places for Colleen to play in the water park. Somebody would’ve stayed with her. Let’s never leave her again,” Anne declared.
All heads nodded in agreement.
We left early the fourth day. The talk all the way home was who was going to pick Colleen up first.
I really thought it should be me but Paul settled it with a few words. “I’m picking her up first. No arguments.”
Now the choice was who was going to be second, third, etc. I had the suspicion that I would be bringing up the rear. I’ll never forget the look on Colleen’s face when the five of us came walking in the door. It was absolute delight. True to our word, we never traveled without our youngest again.
Eight
On The Road Again
With children, the spirit of adventure brings the most unexpected results.
The summer of 1990, Colleen turned four years old, and we were back on the road again.
It had been a hotter than usual summer in Minnesota.
Paul had four vacation days in August. We decided to drive north to Lake Superior and into Canada. It was rarely hot there and the scenery was spectacular.
The nickels were out again. The three girls explained to Colleen the rules for driving in the van. She listened seriously and said, “I’ll have two dollars every day.”
Colleen had been wearing eyeglasses for about three months. Her eyes turned into the corners, especially when she looked to the side. The glasses were supposed to help straighten her eyes and, hopefully, avoid surgery.
The strong magnification made her black eyes huge behind the lenses. We all told her how beautiful she looked.
Warning!: Family Vacations May Be Hazardous to Your Health Page 5
