The most beautiful city in the world–that would be Calgary, Alberta, but you can call us YYC cause we’re so freakin’ hip–has the most beautiful view in the world, especially to the west: dramatic peaks of the Rocky Mountains, which keep their snow caps on throughout the summer most years, and certainly are wearing white hats in the first weeks of July.
But not this year. This year, the snow caps are gone, gone, gone–which, I suppose, explains the flood, at least partly. And as we are driving into this beautiful, beautiful view (it is, finally, a hot, hot, rain-free day in YYC and I’m taking the children in search of some sewage-free water… but, um, that’s also another story), Cinder, my 11 year-old, looks at its beauty, sighs with contentment, and says:
Cinder: The mountains are totally naked.
And it’s one of those “teaching” moments life thrusts at us, right? And I ponder, what should I say? How direct do I need to make the link between the lack of those snow caps and our flood, and do I need to go into climate change and global warming and do I need to talk about the politics around climate change research and the theories that emphasize thousand-plus year weather patterns and maybe I shouldn’t say anything at all, because Keerist, these children have had a rough three weeks, and they’re finally sleeping and do I really want to…
… when Ender, my three-and-a-half year old pipes in with:
Ender: Are the mountains naked because they want to take a bath?
And both boys howl, howl, like this is the funniest thing ever, and then:
Cinder: They stripped naked and then cannon-balled into the rivers, and splashed and…
Ender: And they splashed us, and that’s why we had the flood!
And they laugh, and laugh, and laugh, and then…
Cinder: Perverted mountains. They really should get dressed.
Ender: Look! I can see that mountain’s penis!
So, you know, the collective PTSD of their flooded community aside… I think the boys are gonna be just fine.
If you’re a Calgarian stumbling onto this blog for the first time, you are probably looking for unLessons from the Flood: We are amazing
If you’re a regular reader thrilled to see me back but wondering if I’m going to inflict flood stories on you forever and ever going forward… I’ll probably get over it. Eventually. But it was kind of an epic event around here, you know. If you need a flood antidote, go read me rant about sex or that crazy viral post of mine about the biggest lie inflicted on parents or, ooh, I know, how about that post when I reveal the ultimate secret behind parenting?
But, point: even post-flood, I bring you penis stories, courtesy of Cinder and Ender. So, you know we really are gonna be all right.
I’ve been a terrible blogging sister over the past three weeks, and as we recover from the adrenaline rush and work on rebuilding and all that, I’ll be a terrible blogging sister still. But here are some beautiful posts from this week that have graced my in-box. And that have nothing to do with floods. Or penises. And are written by beautiful, talented people:
Sarah Almond at The Sadder But Wiser Girl tells you you might have superpowers. Do you? Find out.
Jen Kehl at The Skewed View wrote something… totally different. Sabra. Powerful. Inspiring. Neither about floods or parenting. Enjoy.
Stephanie Sprenger searchers for her tribe on The Her Stories Project.
Kristi Campbell at Finding Ninee introduces you to a new blogger in her continuing, amazing Land of Compassion series.
Kimberly at All Work And No Play Make Mama Go Something Something tantalizes you with Part I of Popcorn for the Brave.
The award for grossest thing in my in-box goes to Deni the Reluctant Mother at Den State: Keeping Things in Perspective. I won’t spoil it for you. Read it. Gag. It’s a rare blogger who can outgross the mother of Cinder and Ender. Congratulations, D.
(Photo credit, via Zemanta, Vlatsula)