Learning To Embrace The Fair

Dear Laney,

I remember when I took you to the Western Montana Fair, and you looked like this:

The Fair itself hasn't changed much. It's still overpriced and tacky and full of delicious bad decisions just waiting to happen. 

But you have changed A TON. This year, you were tall enough to ride everything without a grown-up. I bought you the all-you-can-ride wristband and picked up your friend Amya, and you two rode everything there was to ride. Y'all rode the Tilt-A-Whirl ten times, six of them in a row. You'd just get off the ride, and circle back to get in line again. As my friend Jess said: "Barftastic!"

The last time I went to the fair with you two, we were on a preschool field trip and y'all had to hang on to a rope so you wouldn't get separated from your group. This year, y'all ran all over Creation and I could barely keep up. But you still help hands, which warmed my heart. 

There were a few times when y'all just squuuueaked by the minimum height requirement. 

This is not a proportional response to this ride:

Here it looks like the carnival worker (Is "carney" derogatory? Not sure.) is lecturing you two, but in reality, you told him not to close the door to the Spider until he addressed your safety concerns. 

I hope you two grow up and open some kind of business together because at the age of six y'all already don't take no crap from nobody. 

If you're wondering where Hagen was, he was back at Grandma Sue's, playing with LEGO blocks and eating cheese sandwiches and probably watching "Cupcake Wars" or "Dancing With the Stars." Like most reasonable people, and everyone over the age of 80, Hagen doesn't enjoy heat or crowds or walking or lines or loud noises, so we decided to let him forego the fair this year. 

We're inching closer to the year your dad and I can sit in the shade with a funnel cake next to a hokey 4H exhibit and y'all can do it without us. 

Love,

Mom

This Is What Rock Bottom Looks Like

Dear Hagen, 

The week before we left for Hawaii, Grandma Sue took you to Ninja School. You came home without your white belt. When I asked Grandma Sue about it, she said, "Oh, it kept falling off, so Master Corbin decided to keep it." Huh. Okay. 

A few weeks later, we got back from Hawaii, and I took you to your next class. I asked the assistant teacher, "Can I get Hagen's belt back? I think it kept falling off in class, so maybe it's behind the counter somewhere?" "No, " she told me, "Hagen had his belt taken away because he wasn't paying attention in class and he has to EARN it back." That's when I learned two important things:

1) There is something below a white belt in Tae Kwon Do. It's a no belt. 

2) Grandma Sue thinks you're the cutest/best thing ever - as is her job - and it makes her version of the story a little suspect. She is not a reliable witness. 

"Well, crap," I told the teacher. "That figures."

The next week, because so many families were away on vacation, you were the only student in class. While the assistant teacher led you through your exercises, Master Corbin sat next to me and said:

Him -"I'm really excited about Hagen." 

Me -"Hagen who?"

Him -"Hagen Hagen." 

Me -"Hagen 'No Belt' Burbach?" 

Him -"Yes."

He went on to explain that he thinks you're extremely coachable. And when he gives you an instruction, you sometimes look at him with a blank stare that could be misconstrued as confusion, but is actually the short period of time you use to process the information you've been given. "Hagen's mind seems to work like a Rolodex," Master Corbin explained. "He's got to filter through that brain of his for a second, and process what you're saying, but then he always executes whatever it is perfectly. I have other students that go go go like a rocket, but they only do the right movement half the time. Hagen always does the right movement, but it takes him a beat to lock into the idea. That's always the kind of kid you prefer as a coach."

I can tell you I almost cried as he was talking to me, because I've seen you do this very thing, and it felt great to have someone understand my kid, especially after that "Maybe he's on the spectrum" bullshit from your last school. And you earned your belt back. So we decided not to quit that week. 

But the NEXT week, we went back, and you got another time out, and had to sit against the wall, and when he asked you why you were in time out, you shrugged like "Don't know, man. Crazy things happen all the time." So you stayed against the wall, until the effort of sitting up got to be too much, and you decided to just lie down for the rest of class. Pictured above. 

You came to us at bedtime with a little speech you'd prepared that went something like, "I do not like ninja-ing, and I am not good at ninja-ing and I hate it and I don't want to ninja anymore ever please." Your dad and I talked about it that night, and decided that if you were bad at ninja-ing, but loved it, we would help you practice. Or if you were good at ninja-ing, but hated it, we would try to bring you around. But being bad at it while hating it and making your dad and I live through that emotional roller coaster twice a week was just too much. 

So we've retired from ninja school for the time being. 

Hi-ya.

Bye-ya. 

-Brooke

Aloha, Oh.

Hey, y'all - 

We spent most of July in Hawaii. Your dad had to go to another naval exercise down (over?) there, and since the Navy was once again footing the bill for his travel and lodging, we decided to go along. 

Last year, I was a little overwhelmed by the trip. Your dad had to work the night shift, which meant we had to leave the room every morning so he could get at least a minimum amount of sleep. We stayed at a hotel in Waikiki that was three blocks from the beach, which might as well be three miles when you've got two small children (one who hates to walk on sand), a bag of essentials, a mini cooler and towels. This year, I decided things would be different. 

I called Peg Peg and Tex and invited them to join us for our almost three-week stay, so I could have a little help in the kid-wrangling department. Then, I had your dad book us a cabin on the other side of the island at Bellows Air Force Base. The downside of Bellows is it's not near anything - there's no walking to a store or a restaurant. I take that back. It IS near something: The dang ocean. 

This is Laney, showering off on our cabin's back porch. As you can see, the water is about 60 steps away. 

On our first day there, I discovered the cabins don't come with luxurious amenities like...say...towels. I should not have been surprised. The military isn't known for being in the hospitality business. Beach towels in the local store were $16 each, and there were going to be 6 of us, so...yikes. While your dad went to work, I drove you guys to the Kailua Goodwill, where I bought every beach towel and mini-comforter they had for $1.50 each. I'd like to say "This is how I saved us a ton of money!" but instead, I fell in love with my new towel collection and didn't want to give it up, so I made your dad buy me a duffel bag so I could check the towels back to Missoula. Probably a wash at the end of the day. 

Staying on a military base is a lot like stepping back in time to the mid-1970s, and I mean that in the best possible way. Kids ride their bikes and scooters everywhere. They walk to the playground by themselves with instructions to be back before dark. Everyone watches out for everyone else's kids. Laney made a friend in the cabin next door, so while they were playing in the water together, I took them some crackers and lemonade. From down the beach, the friend's mom yelled "I'll get the next snack!" and we raised our beers to each other and went back to reading our books. It takes a tropical village. 

They also have a mini golf course that runs more or less on the honor system: "Here's a club. Have it back to us by the end of the day."

_________

Flying to Hawaii takes about 8 hours of flight time, and when you land, you have to set your watch back four hours. I don't know if it was jet lag, or the time change, but Hagen set a precedent on day 2 of sleeping through just about everything. He would fall asleep on the way to something, sleep through the activity, and wake up back at the cabin, never suspecting he'd missed a thing. This is why Hagen doesn't know that he's been out for a fancy Japanese dinner, been on a snorkeling trip in Kailua, gone purse shopping at the base exchange, and been parked between pints at an Irish pub. 

 

 He's awake!

_________

Tex and Peg Peg arrived a few days into our trip, which worked out well, because Hagen and Tex share a lot of the same hobbies: napping, complaining about sand, enjoying the shade, snacking, and asking when we can go home. 

_________

Our little family loved playing in the water, which we did a lot of. Swimming, body boarding, snorkeling, you name it. For Hagen, it was mostly floating in a Finding Nemo inner tube and asking to be left alone to float. 

Your dad remains the handsomest dude in the world.

Snorkeling over at Ko'onlina, your dad ran into this guy:

 _________

I don't mean to suggest that it was only Team Burbach who enjoyed adventures, because (as I promised my mother I would), I would like to title this section: THAT TIME MY MAMA DID STUFF. 

We hiked to Moana Falls - a 4-mile round-trip journey, over muddy trails, past "Flash Flood Area" signs, in an absolute downpour. And though I offered her the car keys repeatedly, my mama never turned back.

I couldn't believe my mother had brought a little plaid umbrella on a wilderness hike, but then I remembered that Laney had insisted on bringing a purple vinyl purse on the trip, and there's that old saying about apples and where they fall in relation to trees. 

One of Laney's favorite things to do in Hawaii is to eat at the automated sushi place, where plates of sushi pass by your table on a little conveyor belt and you pull off and eat anything that catches your fancy and the restaurant charges you per plate. Peg Peg and Tex went along for the ride, and I guess that also counts as being adventurous and "doing stuff"...

...even if they were literally not having it. 

___________

We visited the USS Arizona Memorial at Pearl Harbor, which was profound and very sad, and reminds me: if you ever go to sacred spot where men have fought and died for your freedom and you choose to wear a halter top and cut-offs, I will rise up from my own grave and address your situation. 

The most moving thing to me was the newest section of the memorial wall. It seems there are those who survived the attack on 12/7/41 who have asked to be buried with their brothers in the USS Arizona decades later. That says so much to me about the concept of brotherhood and how the events of a single day can mark your life forever. 

 ________________

For the final week of our trip, we moved over to Waikiki so we could do some city activities, and my mama could be within walking distance of a Macy's and a PF Changs. We stayed at the Hale Koa hotel, which is a military resort on the water in Waikiki.

And of course, we went to the luau. 

...and the Zoo...

...and the Children's Museum and the shave ice place and the mall and the hotel pool where military lifeguards rule with an iron fist and enforce hourly "adult swim" times that bum all the kids out. 

There's no way I could possibly include all of the great pictures from our beautiful, fabulous, fun-filled trip, but if you want to check them out, I put them here. 

'Til next time, Hawaii. 

Miss you already. 

Love,

Mom