Waterton

Our fourth day in Canada found us in Waterton Lakes National Park. It is a typical destination for the Jones family while visiting Canada and remains on my list of top 5 favorite places on this earth. 

It was a gorgeous day. There's usually a lot of wind roaring through this place, but it was calm, clear, and sunny for us. Our first stop was at the Prince of Wales Hotel. The hotel was built in 1927 on a hill overlooking the Waterton townsite. (We rarely pose for pictures at this spot for fear the wind will throw us over the edge of the hill. In this picture I am trying to convince Curtis that he does not need to run full speed down the hill and into the lake.)

We ventured to a new picnic spot by the lake and, after eating our lunch, spent a long time throwing rocks. This beach was covered with the most perfect sampling of skipping rocks we've ever seen. (Ian's arm was sore for days.) Once again, the kids spent the better part of our time there with their legs firmly planted in the frigid water.

There were mounds of driftwood just ripe for the picking. The girls were on a quest to find "the perfect walking stick" for everyone.

Here's Ian with his "perfect" walking stick.

A little hike around the lake brought us to a place the kids dubbed "Seagull Island".

Soon we made our way into town for our newest family tradition (started last summer). We rented this 5-person surrey bike and tore through town. I sat peacefully in the middle seat, not pedaling, because Lindy was bound and determined to help Ian wheel us around. (Why would I argue with her?)

Our last stop was the ice cream shop. It is home to some of the best waffle cones I've ever had. (And, if you're lucky enough to be walking down the street at 5am, you might find a bear licking the sidewalks out front of the store...but that's a whole other story.)

Delicious.

Buffalo, Forts, Guns, and Names I Wouldn't Wish on Anyone

There's a place in Southern Alberta known as "Head-Smashed-In Buffalo Jump". Despite my 15+ years as a citizen I've never visited before now. While Grandma worked, Grandpa decided to join us on our adventure. And we picked the perfect day for it.

(I tried to get one of the kids to kiss this buffalo...but no one would do it.)

As we pulled up to the entrance, we noticed a bunch of people seated on bleachers surrounding the courtyard. As soon as I heard the drums I knew what we had in store for us. Pow Wow! We got there as the last few dancers demonstrated tribal dances and costumes. It was fascinating enough to keep Curtis entertained (though it might have had something to do with the announcers talk of "warriors" and "weapons").

We then made our way along the pathway that leads to an overlook area near the cliffs. Here's a little historical information regarding the site:

For 5,000+ years, the buffalo jump was used by the indigenous people to kill buffalo. They would drive the buffalo from grazing areas towards the cliffs. Young men would dress up as coyotes and wolves to help stampede large herds toward the edge. As the buffalo reached the edge of the cliff, the weight of the herd behind them, running at full gallop, would force them over to their deaths.

At the bottom of the cliff, the buffalo would then be processed. Most of the animal would be used in some way to help the people survive the cold winter.

This particular site was in use at least 6,000 years ago and the bone deposits are 39 feet deep. 

Did you wonder why it was called "Head-Smashed-In"? According to legend, a young Blackfoot wanted to watch the buffalo plunge off the cliff from below. He found a small crevasse at the base of the cliff and watched as the buffalo began to fall. As the bodies began to pile up, however, he was buried underneath the falling buffalo. He was later found dead under the pile of carcasses, where he had his head smashed in. 

Ian tried to use this as a warning to the kids that they should always listen to their moms and dads. If you ask Curtis about it, he'll tell you that the kid got smashed because he didn't listen to his mom.

Here's Curtis not listening to his mom telling him to smile for the camera.

Our next stop was Fort Macleod. It was originally founded as a barracks for the North-West Mounted Police. Their goal: to stop the illicit trade of "firewater" among the Blackfoot tribes. And, as a bonus...it put a federal presence in an area that was being eyed by the United States. (Ha!)

While I was seriously disappointed that we didn't see any real-life Mounties, we had a good time running around the Fort. 

Here's Curtis not listening to his mom tell him to stay off of the cannon.

(No one listens to me...)

The girls favorite part was the goats. They could have spent the entire day in the corner of the fort feeding these critters whatever they could get their hands on. (Ewww!)

Curtis' favorite part? The guns.

Here's Curtis asking, "If anyone wants a gun, please raise your hand!" (At which point he quickly raised his own hand.)

Oh, and he was a pretty big fan of running along the ramparts. But then...it was a lot of fun for all of us.

My favorite part? These two gentlemen. I hope I don't offend anyone, but I just couldn't help but laugh. Bachelor # 1: Bad Dried Meat. Bachelor # 2: Squat a Few.

(I know, right?)

Food, More Food...Oh, and Some Other Stuff

Each visit to Canada involves a trip to the "big city" to stock up on the goods. You know...Canadian chocolate, Canadian potato chips, and other various goodness. In addition to this typical mission, I had another goal in mind this year. I wanted to sample some more Poutine. For those of you unfamiliar with the term...allow me to enlighten you. 

Poutine (pronounced Poo-teen) "is a French Canadian dish, made with french fries, topped with brown gravy and curd cheese. Sometimes additional ingredients are added." (see Wikipedia)

My past Poutine experiences have been at Costco. (Apparently other international chains, including McDonalds, have been known to serve it as well.) While walking through the mall, however, I was excited to see that one of my favorite places (from when I was a teenager) had embraced this Canadian food. Yup, that would be New York Fries serving Poutine. (I know, I know...it's hilarious.)  

But not just any Poutine. Oh no...they've gone and ramped it up. They have the regular old Poutine (fries, gravy, cheese curds) AND they have 1) Pulled Pork Poutine 2) Butter Chicken Poutine 3) Braised Beef Poutine 4) The Works Poutine and 5) Veggie Works. SO MANY CHOICES!!!

They let us sample each kind (boy, Canadians are friendly!) and Ian and I finally settled on the Braised Beef and the Butter Chicken. 

I can't possibly explain how delicious this stuff is.

No, really...it's AMAZING. 

Now...as if our arteries weren't taking enough of a beating, we also stopped at our other favorite place, Tim Horton's. 

Oh. My. Goodness.

Their honey crullers are enough to make you weep! The only other place I've had something this light and delicious was in Paris (France, not Idaho).

Do me a favor. If you ever find yourself near a Tim Horton's (there are a few in the USA here and there) make sure you go in. Try a cruller. AND, trust me on this one, try a 40 pack of the Tim Bits. You won't regret it.

In case you think our entire Tuesday revolved around food (well, it kind of did)...we also took the kids to see Madagascar 3 (we all loved it), spent some time people watching (quite interesting), and stopped to appreciate Canada's commitment to dry grocery carts.

They really are such nice people.

And, no wonder...they have happy stomaches.

Hiking, Freezing, and Glacier Water

We left for the Great White North on Saturday evening. 4 (ish) hours later we landed on the doorstep of our dear friends, the Davidsons. Our gracious hosts provided us the perfect stop to help break up an otherwise horrific drive. Even though Curtis managed to scare Amy near to death (I thought she was going to faint) and nearly break his legs falling down their stairs...it was a wonderful night. Followed by a relaxing morning and a most delicious breakfast! (I heart you Davidsons!)

We met with little resistance trying to cross the border (though they are getting a little grumpier, in my humble opinion) and descended upon Grandpa and Grandma just in time for dinner. 

We didn't have any real set-in-stone plans for the week. I was mostly interested in not setting an alarm and not rushing to get anywhere. Mission accomplished. Monday started me off on the right foot. We all slept in until 9ish, woke up and had a leisurely breakfast, then decided to jaunt on across the border again to visit Glacier National Park in Montana.

I grew up only a half hour or so from this beautiful place...and this was officially my first visit. (I'm a sucker for Waterton--the Canadian side of the park--so I guess I just never thought about it.)

We chose a relatively easy hike up to Virginia Falls. Curtis practically ran the entire way. I guess he was just excited to be out in the open.

When we did manage to get him to hold still (usually by some type of restraint) he would pull, what I call, an "Uncle Jeff". (Basically, he would act like a doofus for the camera.)

Since Grandma and Grandpa were there...everyone had a hiking buddy so I wasn't as nervous as I could have been about Curtis running through bear country.

The top of the trail ended at the base of the falls. The mist from the glacier water pretty much soaked us to the bone...and dropped the temperature several degrees. Ian stood up on the platform and tried to take a picture of Curtis and I on a rock below. You can't tell, but Curtis is screaming and crying for Grandpa (to the left) to get him OUT OF THE WATER! His little rear end was clenched like it was his last moments on earth. I must admit...I laughed at his expense and stood there for the photo.

And, because it makes all the sense in the world to Canadians, we stopped for a little romp in a lake. A glacier lake. A very, very cold glacier lake. And they LOVED it. (I have learned over the years that they will not catch their death of cold just because their legs turn bright crimson red...so we're good.)

What a great first day of vacation!

Tooting His Own Horn

So. We've talked about The Boy before. 

He's seriously going to kill me. Or himself...I'm not sure which will come first.

Last night we were all sitting around the house, minding our own business, when the (relative) peace was broken by a sudden blood-curdling shriek. I've been around the parenting block enough to know the difference between a sympathy-fishing scream and a real-life-I-just-got-hurt-badly scream. This was the latter.

Turns out, our son was walking up the stairs blowing on small PVC pipe (he was calling it his musical instrument) when he suddenly tripped...stabbing himself in the back of the mouth! By the time I got there he had blood bubbling out of his mouth and his nose. Not pretty. After a rocky few moments we were able to get the bleeding, and the screaming, stopped. And he seemed okay.

This morning I called my pediatricians office, just to make sure I shouldn't be more concerned than I was...it was still looking pretty grotesque. The nurse asked a couple questions then suggested that we follow up with an ENT to make sure he hadn't "done any damage to his palette". I asked her which ENT she would recommend only to be told that I should take him to whoever could see him immediately. (Red flag?)

So, we found someone.

Curtis was sufficiently prepared for a doctor visit with his gun/holster and a pair of Cars bandaids on each shin (covering his other blood-letting fall down some stairs). The doctor came in, looked at his injured mouth, then excused himself to "make a phone call". (Red flag?)

He came back in, the picture of calm, to inform me that he had called the emergency room at Primary Children's and that they were expecting us.

(Um...huge, bright, crimson-red flag!)

This is what I learned: Apparently the carotid artery lies dangerously close to the location of his injury. They were concerned that any blunt force to the area may have damaged the artery and created a risk of it rupturing. It was possible that the ER doctors might choose to inject a dye into his bloodstream and do a CT scan to see how the artery was faring. (Oh, crap.)

Off we went. I numbly called to try and find my husband at work, made sure my girls were okay with Ivana, and called my sister to freak out a little bit.

Meanwhile, Curtis was having the time of his life. He shot all the "bad guys" on the freeway. At the hospital he threw coins in the fountain and wished "that his mom could be so happy" (awww!). He flirted with all the nurses. And he was so very, very excited to watch Spongebob Squarepants. (We don't have cable.)

The highlight of the experience, however, was his "very own room at the hospital place". He has since asked to return to "his room" many, multiple, times. Go figure.

He patiently allowed 8 different doctors and nurses to look in his mouth. They consulted, we waited. They called others in to look, and we waited. Then, as an answer to some fervent prayers, we were given leave to go. No injection. No CT scan. Nothing besides a reminder to make sure he doesn't walk around with stuff in his mouth. (Thanks. I'm fairly certain I knew that. I'm sure I will continue to help my son know that...and I'm also pretty convinced Curtis will do whatever he feels like doing. But, thanks.) 

For now? Well, we are simply thrilled to have him safe and sound and fatal-injury free. Thank heavens!

Literally.