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The Provo Freedom Festival is a big conglomeration of events. It includes contests and beauty pageants and fireworks and parades and an art’s festival. This last, the art’s festival, includes closing several downtown streets and letting vendors set up booths to sell their wares. I love the idea of an arts festival in open air, but I’ve never gone because that kind of setting is a nightmare for keeping track of small children. It is also guaranteed to make every child in range come down with a bad case of the screaming gimmies, causing them to demand every treat in sight.

This year I finally got to go because my parents volunteered to watch kids while I wandered off for awhile. I picked a time in late afternoon when the sun was not so scorching hot. It was very pleasant to wander through the booths just looking at things without feeling compelled to buy anything. I even stopped to chat with a man who was selling the books he had written.

There is something about the air at a festival like that. Everyone was there to enjoy themselves. For a moment I just stopped and felt the wind as it brushed past me. I looked around at the variety of people who passed by me. There were people dressed to the nines with coifed hair and perfect makeup. There were people with shaggy hair and raggedy clothing. There were people with black hair, piercings, and eyeliner. There were bikers and beauty queens, and stay at home moms, and business men, and families, well dressed kids, and ragamuffin kids, people with different skins and cultural dress. All of those different people gathered together for the purpose of enjoying the day. Naturally, not everyone was happy. Some kids were screaming, some couples were fighting, some people looked hot and miserable, but all of those things just added to the flavor of the event. There is an energy about a gathering of people who are intent on enjoyement.

I loved my own lack of agenda. I had no where in particular to be. I wasn’t seeking anything in particular. I was just there to observe and participate. As I walked I heard Debra Fotheringham performing in a pavillion. I stopped to listen for awhile, delighted to find a familiar face in the crowd. The familiar music was a joy as well. I wished that I could have stayed to talk to her after she was done singing, but Howard joined me and we needed to go and eat. I learned later that she spotted us in the crowd. If I’d known that, I definitely would have stayed to talk for awhile. Ah well. I’m sure I’ll bump into her again since we have lots of mutual acquiantances now.

After dinner Howard and I left the festival behind and went back to Dragon’s Keep. The Keep was hosting an all night game fest for whoever wanted to stop in and play. This was because it is right on the parade route for the Grand Parade. All up and down the street people were camping out to save places for the parade. Hundreds of people were wandering around chatting and just enjoying the pleasant nigh air. Again there was festival in the air. I did not spend all night at the keep. I only stayed until 12:30 because I needed to be home to get the kids up for the parade. But part of me wishes that I could have stayed. It was such a happy place to be. There were so many good friends to talk to. It was like being in college again when I did not have children to be responsible for.

I drove home down the parade route, past crowds of people all wandering about and partaking of the festival air. I wished I could stay. That freedom from responsibility is an experience to be relished. Freedom Festival indeed.

My Dad likes to take people to movies. Mostly I think that he likes to see movies and wants to share that joy with his family. So it came as no surprise when he suggested taking the kids to go see Shrek 3. I don’t take my kids to movie theaters. It is expensive and tends to be very frustrating because Gleek can not sit still. She is honestly incapable of remaining still when she is excited by something new. She will sit wonderfully still for the first half of a movie, but after that she just has to move. This used to mean that she would be running up and down the aisles and climbing on any available railing. She’s gotten better. Now she just bounces in her seat and kicks her legs constantly and furiously. Somehow the physical motion helps her concentrate on the film.

Fortunately for everyone, we had a row to ourselves. I put Gleek down next to me and let her kick and bounce to her heart’s delight because it didn’t bother anyone else. It worked pretty well. I’m still not going to take my kids to expensive movies, because if I pay that much I want to be able to fully enjoy the show. However, I may take them to some of the discount shows that are available locally. Maybe. If I’m feeling up to it.

The kids all really enjoyed Shrek 3. I didn’t as much, but that’s okay. Mostly I was along for the trip to help the kids have fun being taken to the movies by their Grandpa.

I was sitting in my front room typing on my computer and relishing the fact that my Dad finally got my laptop to consent to communicate with our wirless network, when my Mommy Radar pinged me. I became abruptly aware that I was not sure where Gleek was. I constantly track the locations of my children even when my conscious attention is occupied elsewhere. This tracking is accomplished primarily by corner-of-the-eye sightings and by ear. I knew that Kiki, Link, and Patches were all watching Scooby Doo, but Gleek was not there. I went looking and found her asleep in bed. Apparently getting up early for balloons and parades combined with staying up late for fireworks is enough to wear a little girl out. It wears out little boys too. Not too long later I found Patches asleep on the floor of the family room.

It has been a very busy couple of days. I already wrote about the Balloon Launch. The parade was not so awe inspiring, but it was good fun. I particularly liked getting to sit in a chair on the shady side of the street rather than on hard concrete in the sunshine. This luxury was provided by the good folks at Dragon’s Keep who blocked out a section of ground for the use of Dragon’s Keep customers. It worked out well for Dragon’s Keep too. Several of my kids and my parents all spent money there after the parade was over.

As soon as we entered the van to go home from the parade, Kiki began angling for us to attend the city fireworks display. We haven’t gone to it for about four years. We used to go every year. Howard would camp out early in the day and we’d haul carloads of picnic stuff. We did that for 10 years, but around year 8 we stopped enjoying it. It became a burden rather than a joy. All the preparations and hauling and most of all the horrendous traffic jam to get home killed our joy in the event. It took as an additional two years to realize that we didn’t want to do it anymore. So we haven’t gone for four years and Howard and I have been happier. But Kiki was longing for something a little more exciting than fireworks in the street. She’s been longing for it for a couple of years now. Then my Dad volunteered to buy tickets to attend the Stadium of Fire. This had never been an option for our family since seats cost $45-$125 apiece. Howard was exhausted from his all-nighter at the Keep and couldn’t go. I did not want Gleek or Patches to go since they would not be able to sit still. (I don’t even take those two to $7.50 movies let alone $45 events.) Howard was too tired to watch kids, which meant someone had to stay with Gleek and Patches. In the end it was my Dad and my two older kids. That turned out to be just right. A part of me regrets passing on the chance to sit in the stadium and see the big fireworks, but I don’t regret spending the time with Howard and my two younger kids. Maybe I can hit a big fireworks display for July 24th which is a Utah state holiday.

Link does not like loud noises. He never has. This is especially apparent around the Fourth of July which seems to be all about loud noises. As a baby Link would huddle in my lap and I’d cover his ears so that he wouldn’t cry. When he got a little older, he’d watch Daddy light fireworks out one of the windows. He wanted to see, but he didn’t want to hear. Last year we went to the local parade and Link spent much of the time with his hands over his ears because every vehicle honked, every band played, and a cannon boomed. On Tuesday we watched hot air balloons launch and Link was afraid. I realized that it was the sound that was affecting him more than the sights. I pondered this and I pondered our intention to attend the parade again. Then I dug around in the garage for Howard’s shooting headphones. These things are designed to protect ears from the sound of nearby firearms detonations.

As soon as we arrived at the parade I handed the headphones to Link. At first he was confused, but when I explained why I wanted him to wear the headphones, his eyes lit up with joy. He plunked them on his head and didn’t take them off except once when he checked to see how loud things were without them. He was able to sit on the front row and enjoy the entire parade instead of wanting to flee from the cacophanous noises. I also sent the headphones with him to the huge fireworks display. Again he was able to enjoy the show without being overwhelmed by the noise.

The very coolest thing about this event is that it demonstrates to me and to him, that he is not inherently fearful. He is having a physical reaction to loud noises and we’ve been interpreting that reaction as fear. He isn’t afraid at all. That knowledge gives us tremendous power. As he gets older he’ll be able to identify the reactions and label them as something besides fear. He’ll be able to take actions to correct the difficulty without feeling helpless or fearful. For today, I’m glad that a set of red headphones allowed him to enjoy the Independance Day activities.

There was a huge chaotic bustle trying to get Kiki and Link out the door. They were being taken to The Stadium of Fire by my Dad. After the chaos of shoes and jackets and directions, they finally piled into my van and drove off. I turned from the window and asked Howard if it was silly of me to be anxious. He said it wasn’t, but I still felt silly. Logically I knew that they would get there fine, find parking, have a great time, and come home safely despite horrendous traffic. But I worried. I worried about each of those steps. I worried that Link would be frightened by something and I wouldn’t be there to talk him through it. I worried about even more unlikely things. But the potential good from the experience far outweighed the unpleasantness of my anxiety.

I sat in the kitchen and sorted through my anxious thoughts. I addressed them individually with logic and stowed them away. Under all the layers it came down to the fact that sending my children off to a major public event with my father isn’t something I’ve ever done before. The very newness of the event made it outside my comfort zone. It is hard to let go and let the kids fly, even when they’re ready. The anxiety sort took me about 20 minutes. Then with all the anxious thoughts tucked safely away, I proceeded to have fun lighting off small fireworks with Howard, Gleek, Patches, my mother, and some neighbors. We had a good time. Kiki, Link, and my dad had a good time. All was well and none of my worries came to pass.

It seems like I have to go through this kind of process frequently. I come from a long line of worriers. They seem to have bequeathed to me a voice which mutters darkly about all the worst possible scenarios. That mutter can be nerve wracking. The only solution I’ve found is to yank the voice out into the light and to require it to speak to me clearly. The articulated worries often become obviously ridiculous. Then I can dismiss them. If I can’t dismiss the worry outright, I can still create an action plan based on the possibility. Then I file the worry and action plan where they’ll be ready if I need them, but where they don’t have to clutter my conscious mind.

My brain is as noisy and chaotic as my house and in as much need of decluttering.

Every year as part of the Independence Day celebrations, the city of Provo hosts a hot air balloon launch. 25 balloons and crews gather in a field to soar into the sky. Spectators can wander through the balloons and watch with amazement as they take to the sky. I’ve always meant to attend this event, but never managed to get there until this year. At 5:45 this morning I began hauling kids out of bed. We all loaded into the car and went down to the field to have a McDonald’s breakfast and to watch the balloons take to the sky.

The air had a pleasant chill to it compared to the roasting oven of yesterday afternoon. But once we reached the damp field, it was a little too cold for the kids. They huddled together, not certain that this balloon thing was such a good idea after all. Then the crews turned on the fans and the previously flat masses of fabric became behemoths of air. That was impressive enough to make the kids forget the cold. They began to exclaim over the colors and patterns that began to emerge. Stars, stripes, rainbows, swirls, smokey the bear, and a strawberry were all exclaimed over. Then the burners turned on and the beached behemoths surged upright, ready to soar.

We’d been standing at the edge of the field watching, but as more and more balloons stood upright I could see a pathway under and around them. I wanted to be closer. I wanted to stand and look upward at a sky framed by the curves of 10 story tall balloons. So we walked out into the field. This was allowed. Spectators are encouraged to get right up close to the balloons and baskets.

Standing there in the middle you could feel washes of warmth from the burners as the crews prepared to ascend. These burners caused some anxiety for Link. The sudden whooshes of flame startled him and he wanted to retreat back to the edge of the field. Instead I stood him close to me and helped him talk through the things that made him anxious. I tried to get him to relax physically so that his mind could be more at ease. He stayed pretty tense until most of the balloons had taken flight. Patches also hung very close to me. This left my Mom and Dad one girl each to keep track of, which worked out just perfect. The girls had no anxieties at all. Instead they were filled with wonder and delight.

The planners of this event obviously know what they are doing. The first of the balloons soared into the sky just as the morning sun peeked over the mountains. The bright sunlight sent rays of warmth over us all and illuminated the brilliant colors of the balloons. Twenty-five Balloons in a multitude of hues against a bright blue sky and a rising sun. My heart flew with them. It is wondrous indeed that fabric and hot air can bestow the gift of flight.

When the last balloon lifted from the field, we began our trek back to the car. The kids were all glad that we went, even Link. They continued to chatter about the launch as we walked. The balloons hovered above us, shifting with the winds, creating an ever-changing pattern in the sky. This was worth getting up early to see.

As usual when I have guests in my house, my blogging gets neglected. This is a major disadvantage of the guest room being in my office. It isn’t that anyone tries to prevent me from blogging or that I don’t want to blog, but the mental spaces that I need for blogging have changed shape and that interferes.

My parents are in town for the 4th of July. This thrills my children. It also makes me happy. I like my parents. I like to watch my kids and my parents interact. I like to quietly sneak off while they are interacting and go do something else. Fortunately Neither the kids nor my parents miss me very much when I do this. It makes us all happy.

Tomorrow morning we’re all headed to watch a hot air balloon launch. Then in the evening I’ll be running off to play with Howard down at Dragon’s Keep. Yay for parents in town and free babysitting.

Are my boys like me? It is so easy for me to see how my daughters are similar. Why is it so much harder to tell with the boys?

I know they both share my ability to focus so hard that we tune out everything else. I often have to work hard to get their attention. They often have to work hard to get mine. We love puzzles. I used to spend hours putting together jigsaw puzzles, my boys love this as well. There are certain kinds of logic puzzles that also intrigue me.

My boys have an innate affinity for math, which I do not share. I’ve learned to live with and even enjoy math, but it is not instinctual for me. My boys love stories. Link likes to be told stories, but does not tend to tell them. Patches is a storyteller in the making. He loves stories and words and sounds. He has just discovered rhymes and is starting to make them spontaneously. Right now of all my kids I think he is the most likely to become a writer/storyteller.

Link may choose to be an artist. He already has the capability to draw what he sees. He did a free-hand drawing of bugs bunny that was amazing for a child his age with no formal training.

Both of my boys have the same restless, creative spirit that I have. They must always be doing something. Usually the “something” takes the form of video games.

My two daughters are very different individuals and yet they are both like me. For a long time it puzzled me how this could be true. I finally figured it out. Kiki is more like me as I am now. Gleek is more like me as I was in my childhood.

Kiki and I are both very organizational. We love to dive in and create order out of chaos. Neither of us is particularly good at maintaining the order we’ve created. However I was not organized as a child and Kiki has always been organized. This probably means that as an adult she will figure out how to stay organized. This makes me glad because once she has figured it out, perhaps she can teach me. Kiki and I are very empathetic. We can both see how the other person feels and we can generalize from a small experience to a large one. We are both creative and artistic. Neither of us is particularly interested in wearing make up except for special occasions.

Kiki is much more dramatic than I am. She is much more of a perfectionist. I usually say “good enough” and she gets upset because it isn’t right. The perfectionism probably comes from Howard. I think the drama is all her own.

Gleek always has calluses, blisters, and healing blisters on the palms of her hands. They come from climbing swingsets and crossing money bars. I spent most of my childhood with similar badges of activity. I always had bruises and scrapes and half-healed scabs, as does Gleek. My hair was always a tangly mess, ditto Gleek. Gleek shares my childhood fascination with horses. I was puzzled when Kiki was not enthralled by my huge stacks of horse books remaining from my childhood reading days. But I’ll bet that Gleek will read them all and love them as I did. Kiki has shown very little interest in braiding, but Gleek braids all the time. I still love to braid, particularly my own long hair. Gleek is fascinated by make up and fashion, as was I at her age. She is eagerly looking forward to getting her ears pierced and wearing eye shadow. I remember being the same way.

Gleek is more headstrong and stubborn than I was as a child. If I ever got into trouble at school it was emotionally crushing for me, but Gleek seems to be able to brush it off.

So I see these things in my girls now and it is like echoes across time. They are similar to me, but they are not me. They will make different choices than I have made and will end up in places that I can not predict. As a mother I hope that those places are ones that make them happy and fulfilled. Their choices may make them more like me or less like me. Both could be good, both could be bad. Mostly I need to see these similarities because they help me to understand the wonderful individuals who are my daughters.