Friday, March 28, 2014

Granola Girl (Part 1): Do Moms Deserve Adventures?

This is actually where yesterday's story (In Search of the Granola Girl) began. Here is the backstory to how I ended up at the Utah Writers' Project in 2002.


DO MOMS DESERVE ADVENTURES?

"What would be wrong with my perfectly good running shoes?" I wondered aloud to no one in particular, but aware my husband could hear me. "I wore those heavy Vibram-soled hiking boots back in the early eighties, but why should I spend so much money on a pair of hiking boots I'll never wear out?"

My husband was used to my questions; tired of them perhaps, but he listened. It had become our routine by then.

"Don't you think my Nikes would work? You know, the only reason I would buy them, if I do, is so that Dan guy, whoever he is, won't laugh at me after our big hike and tell me, 'I told you so.'"

Each Utah Writers' Project participant had received a list of suggested hiking gear a few weeks before camp from Dan Kirby and Bill Strong, the leaders of the advanced writing course. Dan had mentioned we should bring good, sturdy hiking boots, a nice Nikon camera, if we had one, and binoculars. 

I couldn't believe I was going. Not only was I treating myself to a week-long nature writing experience, I was shopping for luxuries like new hiking boots. Buying boots and clothes for hunting was something my husband did every fall, but for me, this seemed like such a luxury. It was finally my turn to leave the house, and do something I wanted to do. He did it all of the time, leaving us at home, while he hunted, fished, and trapped. Why did I feel so guilty for wanting to take a week to write and hike?

It had been AGES since I'd even considered hiking, and I was struggling to justify the expense of the camp and new boots. When I was single, I had all sorts of specialized equipment: hiking boots, back pack, down sleeping bag, Kelty tent, cross-country skis, and rock-climbing shoes. All of that stuff had disappeared over the years after I got married, and we had moved from fixer-upper to fixer upper every three years. I lost my gear to nephews going on Boy Scout trips, and who knew where else. I had three children then who needed shoes of their own, and more. We found much of what we needed at thrift stores and yard sales. I wasn't sure I deserved this week-long writing vacation, let alone a brand-new pair of boots. My point-and-shoot camera would have to do, and if I needed binoculars, my husband's camouflage-taped binoculars would suffice. 

"Denise, just buy the boots. Maybe you'll come hunting with me and Dylan, and come with us more if you had them." I rolled my eyes. "Anyway, they're 'required' for your class; they'll be a tax write-off." He knew that would get me.

In the end, I chose the low top hiker by Pacific Crest. They had a respectable-sounding, outdoorsy name, and seemed a good compromise between a running shoe and a hiking boot. All of this thought for a pair of shoes. 

"I'm going to a writing camp; I should be picking out pens and journals, not worrying about silly things like boots," I thought. "He's right though, an eight mile hike had better be done in comfort."

Secretly, I was nearly giddy with excitement. I walked around the house in my new boots, trying to break them in to avoid blisters hiking around Bear Lake. I couldn't believe this was happening. I made lists of phone numbers and schedules and chores for the kids. I made a packing list for myself. I didn't have a big suitcase; we didn't do a lot of traveling as a family. My husband assured me his hunting duffle would hold my gear. He had two of them for his out-of-state excursions; I could use one of those. They were hideous to me, but I really couldn't justify buying a suitcase, too. It would have to do.

After my shopping excursion at our local hardware store, I confessed my insecurities to my husband about going to Bear Lake. "It'll be me with a bunch of environmental activists. I guess I used to be a bit of a tree-hugger myself back in my college days, reading Edward Abbey, and hiking the Uintas, but now here I am, married to you, trophy hunter of the west, fisherman of the world. I've killed a deer with a bow, for crying out loud. What does that make me? And what about the kids? I shouldn't be leaving the kids for a whole week. Good moms don't do this kind of thing."

My husband and I had been married for almost 17 years, and we were a living example of the "opposites attract" theory. While he traveled to Alaska, and all of the states surrounding Utah in search of fish, fur bearing animals, and big game, I taught school, and took care of our children. The things I loved to do had been on the back burner for nearly two decades while he continued to pursue trophy animals throughout the western states. Our interests were so vastly different, but I was content to be with my children; they were my favorite people in the world. My husband and I generally tried to find common ground for most of our discussions, and agreed to disagree on the rest.

Was it really two decades ago that I was a wide-eyed college girl just finishing up my bachelor's degree in Provo, Utah? Weekdays were spent teaching a captive audience of fourth grade children, and weekends and holidays were spent in the mountains with Sid.

Hmm...I hadn't thought about him much. He was a high school biology teacher who offered outdoor adventures to this elementary school intern looking for adventure. 

Sid was the one who first called me "Granola Girl." We hiked, cross-country skied, rock-climbed, and white water rafted together. You'd think after a couple of years with a man you'd see the end coming, but I didn't. I just kept thinking things would work out. It turns out they did; just not the way I expected.

Late Sunday afternoon, I dropped down out of Logan Canyon, and found Garden City sprawled before me. I clutched my cell phone tightly after I heard my husband's voice on the other end.
Photo Credit: Utah-Travel-Secrets


"I've just seen the lake, and it's so HUGE. It's so much bigger than I had imagined! And the color; it's so blue that it looks nearly tropical." The phone went quiet. My voice softened, "Thank you for encouraging me to come." I could almost hear his smile. He knew how much I needed this time away, but it couldn't have been easy for him to take on the responsibility of the kids. I'd made arrangements beforehand, making sure they had things to do, friends to visit, and meals prepared before I left. Of course, I did. I felt like I owed them that much; I felt so guilty for leaving them during our precious summer vacation. He assured me everything would be fine at home.

When I flipped my cellphone shut, I tossed it on the seat beside me. Gripping the steering wheel  a little tighter, I took in a big breath, and let it out slowly. It was finally happening. I desperately hoped no one would question my presence at this advanced writer's workshop. I didn't know a soul, and I wasn't sure I would ever fit in, but I'd come this far. My adventure was just beginning.


This Granola Girl series continues. Part 2 is here: In Search of the Granola Girl. Maybe your former self had dreams of the stage, of owning your own business, of making a difference. Are you in touch with who you were, or have your dreams changed over time?

17 comments:

  1. What a great realistic story! And so true for so many wives and mothers. We do almost forget who we are for a couple of decades don't we?

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    1. I surely did. I'm so glad I finally started to reclaim who I was. Thanks for stopping by!

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  2. Ah, Denise...I wish I would have been around to tell you to go for it more! And then I have to laugh, because I haven't that much, either. I'm starting a little, tiny job today just so I feel like I have more right to say where money goes. It's absurd, because I know the contributions I make, and Brett never gives me any grief, but something internal in me alone restricts my freedom where spending is concerned.

    He doesn't do anything that the family can't all do. He was the impetus behind the camp trailers (both used), two motorcycles (both used and cheap), and the sailboat (in need of restoration and still taking on water whenever we test it). He bought me my kayak and encouraged my trip to Women's Conference and the times I flew to see my sister or brother sing or visit a friend. I feel extravagant when I take myself out to lunch. I've pulled my kids into family-friendly version of my own interests, but I still feel sometimes like I don't know who I am. Not that I've lost myself, but that I haven't had time to sort out who I have become in the past 25 years. I'm much different than I was, and my old dreams really don't fit so well any more, but I'm not sure what new dreams ought to take their place.

    Kindergarten: T minus five months...

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    1. I love your enthusiasm in counting down to kindergarten, Janna! Thank you for sharing your thoughts. We moms have to support each other in chasing our dreams. We have to know what they are first, though! ;-)

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    2. And the thing is, when I was young--high school, college--I didn't know myself very well, and didn't have the confidence to be my real self much. So I feel like I'll be starting from scratch, pretty much. Or worse, first I have to deconstruct who I thought I was......and THEN start from scratch.

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  3. Why do we have that internal voice that says, " You are the Mom. You don't do these things." Glad you told it to hush for the time you were gone, and everyone came through, fine. Your story is always fun to read.

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    1. I think many women "suck it up" for their families. I'm glad I finally began to take care of myself...even if it came late in life.

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  4. Bear Lake is one of the most beautiful places on earth! We saw it on our cross-country motorcycle trip from the top of a peak on the west side. GORGEOUS. That being said, why is is that as women, we tend to deny ourselves the things we want or do the things we enjoy for the "good of the family" but it seems the men in our lives do not? I am fortunate not to deal with that as much, but even I do it, and I don't even have kids to give things up for!!!

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    1. Dawn, I love Bear Lake. I'm glad you enjoyed it, too. I do not know WHY we do what we do, but I know many of us do it. I'm learning that I have more to give if I take care of myself first.

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  5. Sounds like a wonderful adventure.

    I can relate to this, Denise. I don't know if our children become our dream or if we just push ourselves aside for a later time.

    Here's to finding ourselves again.

    The lake looks beautiful.

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    1. Melinda, my children have been the center of my universe. I just wish I had taken care of myself better so I could have been a better mom. I'm finally doing that, and finding my voice. Yes, here's to finding ourselves!

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  6. I feel like you've taken a piece of my life and written about it. I can't even bring myself to kill a spider, yet I married someone who hunts nine out of twelve months a year. The thought that my beautiful blonde little girls might grow up to be hunters terrifies me. I want them appreciate nature and the beauty of a deer walking through the forest ALIVE. Sometimes I feel like everything about me is gone and all that is left is Mama, which doesn't feel like much these days. I think I need an adventure! <3

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    1. Being Mama is the most exhausting thing you will ever have to do, and I know you love your babies. Give the girls opportunities to love nature on your terms. It will all work out.

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  7. Re-reading that, it doesn't sound like I intended it. I love my kiddos more than anything and wouldn't trade being "Mama" for the world! What I meant by "which doesn't feel like much these days" is that I'm a zombie mom and it's hard to even focus on being mom when you're so tired and burnt out.

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  8. Your description about all the thought and dialogue about the shoes made me giggle - I spend hours deliberating about what kind of running shoes to get, and I buy about 4 or 5 pairs a year!

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    1. I have TOO many shoes now, but back then, it was a major purchase!

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  9. Just catching up with yesterday's post today. This is beautiful and spoke straight to my heart. Why is it that moms forget they need adventures? I know I sure did and whenever I did get out for awhile, there it was guilt, guilt, guilt. Loved your description in particular about your boots and how you secretly loved them and your reaction when you first saw the lake. You make me excited for my retreat next week and for part three of this series...

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