Park City and the Quads

They say that expectation is the mother of disappointment.  Actually, I don't know if "they" say that or not, but I'm attributing it to "them." Mrs. Lynde, one of my favorite characters from the Canadian TV series Road to Avonlea (based on Lucy Maude Montgomery's books), put it this way:  "Blessed are they who expect nothing for they shall not be disappointed.”  On a more serious note, Eric Hoffer expressed similar thoughts when he wrote, “Disappointment is a sort of bankruptcy - the bankruptcy of a soul that expends too much in hope and expectation.” 

I learned these lessons - again - yesterday.

I had planned an afternoon full of "wholesome" "fun" activities with the Quads.  The weather forecast was for partly cloudy, a high near 90 degrees.  We were first going to go for a hike on the Temple Quarry trail at the mouth of Little Cottonwood Canyon (where the granite for the Salt Lake Temple and other buildings was quarried), then perhaps go on a little hike to see a waterfall.  Then we were going to drive up Big Cottonwood, almost to the top, then cut over and across a pass then down into Park City.  Once in Park City, we were going to go to the Park City Museum so the kids could learn about mining.  It was going to be a perfect, educational afternoon, or so I expected.

Well, it didn't quite turn out that way.  A big black cloud was making its way across the south end of the valley as we heading toward our hiking spot.  A bolt of lightning - the first I've seen so far this year - suddenly flashed across the valley.  Then, right on cue, as we approached the trail, it started to rain.  What to do?  The north end of the valley was all sunshine and blue sky, but this cloud looked like it could be around for a while.

After considering various options, I decided to go ahead and drive up Big Cottonwood and head over to Park City.  The clouds, however, followed us up the canyon, though the rain stopped a few miles into the canyon.  

As I drove, I was very cognizant of the grade of the road, as I would be cycling up this canyon in the near future.  In fact, Mark and I have a goal of going all the way to the top by the end of June.  I'm sure I'll be writing in the future about the part of the road that passes by the base of Storm Mountain, for example, which Mark has already warned me about.  As I paid special attention to this area yesterday, I could understand why:  it is quite steep.  

As we approached Brighton, we turned off on a road that would lead us up to Guardsman Pass, then down into Park City.  The road climbed quickly, switching back and curving upward.  As I glanced out the window and my rearview mirror, I could see that there were stunning views back over Big Cottonwood Canyon.  I didn't want to pull over, though, because I was too focused on the kids, being mindful of my driving and noticing that there weren't any guardrails.

Suddenly, we were at the pass.  I could see its approach because ahead of me, there was a bit of slope, then a row of cars, then sky.  We were at 9700 feet.  I took pictures, but they simply cannot capture the panorama that lay before us, particularly since it was cloudy.

The above photograph shows three causes for concern that I had:  the paved road had come to an end, and there were no guardrails, and there was a very steep drop off on my side of the road.  I took it very slowly on the descent and tried as much as possible to stay on the mountain side of the road, trying not to show my concern.  

Esther, however, expressed what was in my mind when she said, "This is dangerous."  I took advantage of the moment to relieve my own concern and to teach her and the other kids something about perceptions.  

"Why is it dangerous?" I asked.  "Look how wide the road is.  It just seems that way."  Meanwhile, my brakes appeared to be overheating.  "What's that smell?" Esther later asked.

Eventually, we hit paved road again as we wound our way down into Park City, past multi-million dollar homes, condos and ski lodges.   Coming into town, I turned onto Main Street, and the kids were captivated by how small the (old heritage) homes were along the street. 

The houses quickly turned into stores that lined several blocks of this quaint old street.  This was again one of those "I've lived in Utah 16 years and never experienced this" moments.  Though I've been to Park City several times, I've never been on Main Street - at least that I can recall.  (The picture below is one that I took off the internet.)

I was looking for the Park City Museum, which was supposed to be on Main Street somewhere, but I couldn't see it - at least I couldn't recognize it from the pictures on their web site.  Meanwhile, however, I was more than a little concerned and preoccupied about the smell I had noticed on our descent into Park City, wondering what the heck was going on with my car.

When we reached the bottom of the street, I considered just driving back to Salt Lake via I-80 down Parley's Canyon, but after asking the kids decided that we should try to find the museum.  (I had also noticed lots of cool shops while driving down Main Street, but these weren't places I could go with four little kids in tow.)

As we walked up Main Street, the kids were being, well, kids.  They saw signs on some of the stores that read, "Come on in!" - so they did.  I was having difficulty rolling with it and was becoming irritated and feeling a bit overwhelmed.  But I was trying to maintain.  

That's when we saw the moose in the lead photograph, above, and I told them I wanted to take their picture with it.  They immediately started checking out the moose's clothing (and what was underneath it), and I think Annie even tried to climb it.  

Corralling them, I took the picture - which is pretty expressive of their individual personalities.  Aaron didn't even want to be in the picture.  He hates having his picture taken.  But I forced him.  Thus, the look on his face.

Shortly after this, we found the museum and went in.  The website had billed the place as kid-friendly, and I thought it would be an educational experience for them.  I paid the $25 entrance fee while the kids were madly checking everything out in the little museum store.  I was trying to keep an eye on them while the very kind woman was explaining the treasure hunt cards that the kids could take through the museum, helping them learn as they went.

Well, let me just say that the museum wasn't terribly kid-friendly.  And, just as at the Natural History Museum here in Salt Lake, they are immediately drawn to whatever is multi-media, whatever has a screen.  If it doesn't have a screen, they aren't (generally speaking) all that interested.  I was and am dismayed by this, but am at a loss as to how to combat it, except by continuing to do what I am trying to do, which is introduce them to being out in nature and avoiding use of electronic games when they are at my house.  

We weren't at the museum all that long, and I was frustrated and had the beginnings of a migraine by the time we left.  The day wasn't working out at all as I had hoped.  This is when I texted Mark and simply said, "I have a headache."  He replied and very lovingly suggested I take the kids to Toys 'R Us on the way home and buy each of them a small toy on him.  Which I did, and which the kids appreciated.  Aaron, in particular, was happy because he had recently lost one of his action figures while coming and going from my house.

This happiness, however, was short-lived for Aaron.  Once we got back to the house and he opened his action figure (Captain America), he shortly thereafter lost it.  Apparently, there was a problem with the shield.  

Aaron has always had a problem with anger and stress - ever since he was a baby and Esther used to run up and steal his toys before he learned to walk (which happened about six months after Esther started walking).  He also says and does goofy things.  We all try to roll with it, but sometimes I lose patience with his attitude and actions.  After all that I had been through that afternoon, his anger over the action figure which I just purchased pushed me over the edge.  It was almost time to take the kids home anyway, and I decided that it was time to go.

On the way home, both Esther and Levi lovingly talked with Aaron.  Levi looked at Captain America's shield and figured out whatever the deal was and patiently explained to Aaron what he needed to do.  Esther spoke soothingly.  I was proud of both of them.  I talked frankly with the children about the challenges we all face on these Saturday outings.  I acknowledged that it's hard for them, and I explained that, being 20 years older than most fathers of children their age, I have less patience than I used to (though, paradoxically, in some respects I have more than I used to).

Aaron was feeling much better by the time I dropped the kids off.  But then, just as we were driving up their street, Levi shot the missile out of his action figure motorcycle and then couldn't find it.  Another tragedy.  We looked and looked, but couldn't find it.  He was extremely disappointed.  To me, it seemed emblematic of how the entire afternoon had gone.  

I went home last night depressed and frustrated.  I wrote a very pissy blog post last night, but decided this morning not to publish it.  Instead, I wrote this one.  And it has been a very helpful, very therapeutic experience.  I have gained perspective.  Mark has joined me for coffee as I have been writing this, and as I pointed out to him, some of what I experienced yesterday was no different from what our own parents experienced with us when we were kids.  How many times did our parents say, while going somewhere in the car, "If you kids don't settle down right now, we're going to turn this car around and go home!"

I've also had time to reflect on the good things about yesterday.  Each one of the kids said they had a good time, which I'm glad of.  But that points out something I need to work on:  I need to try to stop judging myself by how good a time the kids have.  I need to get out of the habit of thinking that I have to earn a place in my kids' affections by showing them  good time.  As my counselor has mentioned to me with respect to many areas of my life, men have a tendency to base their sense of self worth on what they do, rather than on who they are.  Doing over being.  I need to try to value myself more for who I am - a person of love and compassion - rather than on what I do.

In hindsight, I can also see more clearly that I am having a positive effect on my kids.  I am exposing them to different things.  There will be days, like yesterday, when I have difficulty seeing this while I am in the thick of things; but, upon reflection, I can see it.  And this gives me hope and the will to keep trying.

(It also helped this morning when I discovered Levi's missing missile, which had lodged itself in my guidebook to easy hikes in the Salt Lake area.)