We’ve been migrating to the desert each spring and fall for as long as we have been together. Longer – the tradition individually proceeds our relationship. Red rock, lizards, canyons, and the sun beckon. The mountain town we live in regularly holds temperatures in the negative double digits during the winter. Desert escapes are a survival tactic.
Do you have a kid? Maybe 2? Maybe 3? If you are like us, you may have asked yourself, what the heck I am getting myself into? Is this a horrible mistake?
Don’t get me wrong, the kid thing is wonderful, that’s not what I mean. But we revel in the freedom of the road and wandering for miles on trail and our greatest fear was that having a baby would more than squander that freedom. In fact, many people told us it would.
I feared what it meant to be a mom. Would I have to cut my hair short? Would all my conversations henceforth lead with a cute new baby milestone, rather than stories of an epic adventure?
Turns out my favorite baby milestones to date look more like miles traveled in a cross-country ski trailer, miles on trail, miles on road. Real miles. West has racked up so many of them in many different modes of adventure transit. I think he is better for it and I know our family is.
An early travel win
I thought I would lead with my favorite moment as a parent so far, one year in. And that moment was in the wilds of Utah. In year one of West’s life, we have been to Utah three times so far. He is a road warrior. Our strategy was to put him in the car early and cross some state lines. If all he has ever known is grand roadtripping adventures, then he should just go merrily along. Right?!
So we jumped in the car and in the first six months of life, he had been to New Mexico, Utah, Idaho, Wyoming, and all over the state of Colorado. Most of the time he has come along merrily. On I-80 in Wyoming, he cried for two solid hours. The most miserable sound, on the most miserable highway.
Looking back I think we had something to prove to ourselves. Those adventurous souls could not be squandered, which brings me back to the desert outside of Moab. West is eleven months old. We are doing our winter thaw. The “Shorts or Bust Tour”. We are hiking in one of our favorite canyons outside of the hustle of the national parks.
The second we are out of the car West is babbling away. A whole hike of babbly proclamations about the beauty of the desert. My interpretation. And my husband and I are elated to be warm and have this little kid along for the ride who seems smitten with our surroundings.
Everything is new to him… and to me too.
Under an arch, we pause. I watch West pick up one rock, throw it down, smile, repeat with another rock of another texture, and smile. I watch him zoom around through the sand, pausing to pick up something new. Everything is new to him.
Everything with him feels new to me too. And I think about how much I love being here with him, discovering known places in newly curious ways. It’s in that moment that I see clearly what it means to be a mom for me. He reminds me that true adventure is always an act of discovery. His posture is always one of wonder.
That’s his lesson to Greg and I daily. He renewed our relationship with adventure instead of robbing us of it. This blog is an ode to that renewed sense of adventure with the lessons we have learned along the way. The stories we wish someone would have shared with us. Turns out the guidebooks on outdoor life with kids are almost non-existent.
And if you are wondering, my hair is still long, and my husband and I still carry beer into the backcountry and celebrate like we did when we were wild and free.
