Book Review: The First Husband

I received an advance copy of a new book to read and review, and in full disclosure, I am being compensated to participate in this brief BlogHer Book Club review but my opinions about the book are mine and mine alone.

The First Husband captures what all of us experience as we make our way through our lives--how searching and decisions pull or lead us in one direction or another, and how sometimes it's difficult to tell the difference between comfort and true happiness.  How sometimes it takes extreme discomfort to find who we really are and what we want out of life.  Author Laura Dave, in her third novel, explores these ideas through the main character, Annie Adams, who is a successful travel writer.

A travel writer is a covetous job for most people--is there anyone who wouldn't want to be paid to travel to the world's most exotic and interesting places?  I would leap at the opportunity to travel to the far reaches of our planet and experience a taste of life as a local (anyone looking to fund travelers exploring the world from a family perspective?  Email me!).

On paper, Annie has it all--great job, steady live-in boyfriend, cute dog...until the steady live-in part falls away unexpectedly one night after announcing he needs a break.  Cue the searching.

I don't require books with fast-paced action; I look for stories about the human condition.  Fantasy and time travel are not necessary; I find real life far more interesting.  The First Husband kept me interested in an easy-read sorta way, one that would be perfect while you're stealing an hour to yourself here and there on a summer vacation with your family.

The Family That Surfs Together Stays Together

Up until yesterday, I had only had contact with a surfboard twice in my life.  The first time was in Santa Cruz, CA, with Sam and his brother.  The water was freezing, despite the fact it was July and despite the fact we were wearing full wetsuits.  Have you heard of that fairly gross but useful tip of peeing in your wetsuit to stay warm?  Sam managed to pee in his wetsuit a miraculous 7 times and his lips were still blue and chattering.  The Pacific Ocean off the California coast is a bit like a couple of girls I've come across; so much physical beauty but not enjoyable to spend time in close contact with.  I never successfully rode a wave in that day.

The next time was a year or so later in Kauai for Sam's brother's wedding.  I was awkwardly trying to paddle and catch a wave when suddenly a surfer came very close to me.  I braced myself for a collision and offered up a hasty apology, cursing myself for being the lame newbie in the path of someone who clearly knew what he was doing.  Instead of retorting with an insult, this Patron Saint of Novice Surfers reached down and, from his own board, yanked me by the arm up to my feet.  I then rode the wave all the way in, feeling as stable as if I was on land.  That was the only wave I caught that day.

Fast forward eleven years and the creation and addition of three children to the family, and we all found ourselves at Manly Beach for a surfing lesson. Kenyon isn't quite ready for surfing, so we drew names and paired up Sam and Jackson for one lesson while Alex and I took the next one a few weeks later.

If you're in the area, Manly Surf School is a must for learning to surf.  First of all, the trip over is worthwhile--riding the famous ferry from Circular Quay over to Manly gives lovely views of the Harbor Bridge and the Opera House.  Manly itself is an adorable town, and the beach itself is tops without feeling the least bit touristy.  And the surf school?  Awesome all around.

I loved having Alex in my class with me; here we are practicing the proper positioning on the board...

...and how we should hold the board while heading out in the water.

Sam grew up boogie boarding and body surfing in Santa Cruz, and he seemed to take to surfing nicely.

I had a ball, and got up more times than I could count, so Manly Beach will always hold a special place in my heart.

So, how did the kids fare?  The way the knowledgeable, friendly instructors worked with my boys was simply stellar.  You'd think that being a 7-year old in a class with a bunch of adults would be intimidating, but our instructor boosted Alex's confidence from the start, using him as an example of correct form on the beach and when we first got in the water.

And then he was off!

At some point in the lesson, Alex and I headed back out to the waves together and, with a huge grin, he told me the instructor said he was 'unreal'.  Again, I cannot commend the instructors enough for how exceedingly wonderful they were with my children.

Jackson catching a wave

Surfing was a good time, and well worth the pain I'm feeling in my arms and chest today.  But what really made it special was experiencing it with my family; yet another memory I am grateful for because of this year abroad.

Crappy Mom of the Year Award

Today was not good.  A scrapping my original, healthy dinner plan of grilled marlin and going with my ultimate comfort food of homemade mac and cheese sort of day.  A turning on the tv as soon as the kids were done with their homework and vegging for an hour sort of day.  And no, I don't think those two decisions make me a crappy mom; that's fine once in a while.

But this next bit does.

Weeks ago, Alex came home with a slip of paper about a bike safety day that his second grade class would be attending.  There was a $20 fee, which is negligible but at that time I was being inundated by slips of paper each day for one thing or another.  That day, I told him to forget the bike safety class since he was already comfortable on a bike; instead, I'd keep him home with me and we'd do something fun together.

Fast forward to today, when I dutifully arrived to pick up my boys from school, and imagine my horror when I saw Alex's class returning to school.

Carrying bike helmets.

NO.

Alex wasn't with them; how could he have been, when I hadn't returned the permission slip and the fee?  Because remember, we were going to have a memorable day together, you know, like a good mom would.

But I don't get the Good Mom Award, because not only did he not participate in a bike safety course with his class, he also didn't have a fun day doing something special with his mom.  Nope--he spent the day sitting in some random classroom because his mom dropped the ball, bigtime.  And he was the one who was punished for it.

SHIT.

As soon as I saw his freckled face approach me, I apologized profusely but his eyes were teary as he told me about his day, and rightfully so.

Between winning this award that no mom wants to win and other stuff that is piling up, like Jackson's dissatisfaction at school (and my complete agreement with his feelings), it has now turned into an artisan-batch dark chocolate and orange ice cream at 9pm kind of night.

Here's hoping tomorrow is a day I can begin to redeem myself in this role that I am lucky enough to hold in these boys' lives.

Necks Out For Adventure

Both of my older boys had the good fortune of having the same teacher for the 2-year cycle of kindergarten and first grade.  And not just any teacher--the kind of teacher that has the rare ability to fill kids with wonder.  The kind of teacher that sets high standards and gives her students the tools to reach them.  She's inspiring, supportive, engaging and patient.  The kind of teacher where the most painful thing about leaving your home to go live in Australia for a year is the fact your son won't be able to finish first grade with this teacher.

Because they attend a public charter school that follows an expeditionary learning model, the students have experiences together that include hiking, camping, rock climbing, snowshoeing, and as they get older, kayaking and mountain biking.  Before their first camping trip at the start of the kindergarten year, Alex's teacher read a book called Necks Out For Adventure about a brave clam that dared to think outside the box to save himself and others.  It was a perfect story for a group of 5-year olds on the brink of their first camping trip without their parents, or for some, their first night sleeping in a tent.  Alex, who has always has a giggle at the ready when he sees clever writing or unique illustrations, loved the book.

...

One of the boys found a clam at the beach while we were camping on this most recent road trip, and brought it back to the campsite.  It was closed; the little creature was still in there.  I didn't pay attention to it until the morning that we were packing up camp to head out, but the shell opened a teeny bit, despite being out of the water for a couple of days.  It was still alive in there.

I became fixated on this clam, absolutely desperate to get him back into the ocean, which was a hike away.  As we folded up the tent and loaded the car, I found a moist, shady spot in the grass for him.  I anxiously asked Sam when we could get going; it just seemed like a shame for him to have made it this long and not get back to where he belonged, and the minutes dragged on until we were finished and set off for our hike.

Alex held the clam and had the honor of returning him to the sea--and as he tossed him back into the rolling surf, he yelled, "Stick your neck out for adventure, Little Clammy Boy!".

I love that child so much my heart hurts.

Australia Zoo, Worth A Few Hundred Cups of Lemonade

I have to say, until we came to Australia I hadn't thought a whole lot about Steve Irwin.  Back home, I had watched the overeager Aussie in a couple of episodes of Crocodile Hunter at some point and I enjoyed him, but I enjoy most any nature show.  And yes, I thought was a shame that he was killed in such a freak accident with the stingray, but I mostly felt sorry for his children, who have to feel the incredible pain of losing a parent.  

Our apartment here has multiple DVDs of Crocodile Hunter shows, and one disc detailed Steve Irwin's journey to the man he became, including his childhood being immersed in his parents' reptile park in Beerwah, Queensland.  I got teary-eyed (surprise, surprise) along with Steve as he described the day his beloved dog was inadvertently shot during a filming with pigs in Africa, and I really appreciated his desire to get people interested and engaged with animals so that they would naturally see the importance of conservation.

The teeny 4-acre Beerwah Reptile Park is now the Australia Zoo, a 100-acre property and major tourist destination.  It's a place that my children had been looking forward to visiting since we first tossed around the words 'teacher exchange' and 'Australia' one night at dinner.  Our boys spent 5 or 6 weekend days last summer holding lemonade stands to earn some money because we heard the zoo offers opportunities to have an encounter with some of the animals.  The idea of an animal encounter was awesome, and I looked at the cost per person in terms of cups of the flavored lemonade, which sold for $2 since they were made with real ingredients like strawberries, mango, mint (and of course, the usual lemons, sugar and water).

A dingo?  20 cups.  Okay, that's doable.

A Tasmanian devil?  40 cups.

A cheetah?  75 cups, and since an adult must be present as well it jumped up to 150 cups.  Um that's a lotta lemonade.  I started wondering if they offered an earthworm encounter, or at most maybe a peacock?

Dreams of the Australia Zoo filled the boys' heads for nearly a year, so I was understandably a little nervous whether it would live up to the hype as we arrived that morning (for myself as well, because admission was a steep $189 [90 cups of lemonade] for our family and we've already seen a lot of animals at zoos, wildlife parks, and in the wild thus far in our year here).

We immediately headed to the elephant area because it was feeding time, something the zoo makes interactive for its guests.  On the way, we spotted this lizard wandering the grounds.

We were able to choose a fruit or vegetable from the large bucket and hold it out to the waiting elephant; the kids enjoyed it without being terribly impressed, but I loved being able to have a little moment with such a gorgeous creature.

This is a gorgeous zoo, with very lush, well-maintained grounds and the most beautiful open kangaroo enclosure I have ever seen (and again, we've seen our fair share of kangaroo enclosures).  Staying true to its roots, the focus is weighted towards reptiles.

There were multiple crocodile enclosures; to be honest, I feel like if you've seen one croc, you've seen them all, but it was interesting to read the history behind each animal.  We caught one of the zoo's wildlife shows, where a man got far too close to a crocodile for my comfort.

Nah, that's not too close.  But this is!

 Each animal had a nice, well-maintained habitat and we enjoyed seeing some of our Aussie animal favorites.

The kids were so excited about their encounters--because of limitations in cost and age, Alex and Kenyon both decided on the giant land tortoise.  Maybe not the most dynamic of creatures, but I figured it would be a good opportunity to get up close and personal with an interesting animal.

In reality?  Meh.  The tortoises weren't very cool, and the kids couldn't get all that close to them because of the danger of getting stepped on.  There were about 5 other people doing the encounter, so there was a lot of waiting around.  We got some pictures, but otherwise it was a disappointment.

Sam, on the other hand, got to spend some good one-on-one time with his animal of choice, the echidna.  We've seen a few up close in the wild during our camping travels, but Sam really enjoyed interacting with this unique little rugby ball-sized spiky guy.

Because I had already snuggled a wombat, I took one for the team (and our wallets) by foregoing the animal encounter.  And then it was Jackson's turn, and he had chosen the dingoes.  They are basically dogs, so they don't look all that exotic, but Jackson is a huge dog lover and he has been intrigued by them since we've been here.  The handlers spoke about the dingoes and their pack mentality, introduced the alpha to Jackson so she could sniff him, and then they settled in for some pictures.  One big difference between dingoes and regular dogs is that unlike a dog who is unfailingly excited to see its owner and interact, dingoes are initially curious but then can't be bothered with humans.

He was the only person signed up for the encounter, which made for an awesome experience.  The rest of us sat a little ways away, but after a bit they invited us all over to ask questions about the dingoes and working with animals in general, and to take some pictures with all three of the boys.  It lived up to every bit of Jackson's expectations, and was especially good since the other boys kind of had a lame tortoise encounter.

We left the zoo happy, tired, and with a few hours' drive ahead of us to our next campsite.

Fraser Island Continues: Maheno Wreck, Eli Creek, and a Hike

One of Fraser Island's most famous landmarks is not a natural one--it's the Maheno Wreck.  Built in 1905, the SS Maheno was used as both a luxury passenger ship and a hospital ship during World War I.  In 1935,  the ship began a journey towards Japan to be used for scrap metal when it was caught in a cyclone and washed up on Seventy-Five Mile Beach, the eastern shore of Fraser Island.

I could have sat there all day, watching the waves rush through the hulking shell of rusted metal.

As we drove along the beach at 70kph with the windows open, I heard a recurring series of popping noises.  It was quite some time before I realized that we were driving over hundreds of Portugese Man O' War (also known as blue bottles) that were washed up along the beach.  Their bodies have a air-packed bubble that were no match for our Land Rover tires, and after I pointed out what was happening to the boys, they were decidedly gleeful each time we heard a string of the popping sounds.

Blue bottles on the beach (source)

We ventured along and saw some rock formations with gradations of color.  While it's certainly no Bryce Canyon National Park, the reddish tones in the sand were beautiful.

Eli Creek, the longest creek on the eastern beach that pours a couple million liters of fresh water into the ocean every hour, was a fun place for the boys to boogie board and wade.

I will remember Eli Creek as the place where the clouds parted, and I'm pretty sure I heard angels singing, when  a kind family we were camping near offered to charge my iPhone with their car charger.  I am forever indebted, as it allowed to me continue to photograph our experience on the island.

For our last day on Fraser, we left the 4x4 sitting idle and hiked from Central Station to Basin Lake.  At 5.6km return, we just upped Kenyon's longest hike by a couple kilometers and he did great; I love being able to cover longer distances as the kids get older.  Of course, there are days where I can't coax Kenyon to walk to the corner without him collapsing limply on the ground, sobbing--but on this day, 5.6 km was a breeze.

It didn't hurt that the hike was awesome, with mangled strangler figs, palms and ferns aplenty.

Alex the Buddha

As we packed up camp and said prepared to say farewell to Fraser Island, Jackson spotted this little guy on his tent and scooped it onto a stick for a picture.  He only had 6 legs but seemed to do just fine.  The boys also futilely attempted to grab a goanna; Sam encouraged them as I mentally calculated how many hours away we were from a hospital.  Luckily, they didn't even get close before it darted further up the tree.

We got back to the mainland, more than eager for a night at a hotel.  We bathed, washed clothes, ordered room service, watched a movie, and Sam and I sat in the bar and had a drink (yes, friends back home--Sam actually had a drink, too!).

Fraser was awesome, and now we had to start making our way back home with our stores of books on tape (and my patience for car noise) growing thin.

Wild Dingo Children and Lake McKenzie

The main point of camping our way up the coast was so we could explore the environmental wonderland of Fraser Island, which is noted for its rainforest ecosystem somehow growing out of the sand.  It also houses the purest strain of dingoes on the east coast, which is why many of the campgrounds on this island national park are fenced.  I initially figured that since we've camped in bear territory in northern California just fine we could handle this as well without the fences, but since the park service advises that parents be in close proximity of children under the age of fourteen, not merely toddlers, we'd better heed the advice and go with the fences.

The other logistical factor involved with visiting Fraser Island is the driving--only 4x4 vehicles are allowed, so we left our trusty Ferdinand the Minivan at Fraser Magic 4wd Hire and got acquainted with the very industrial Land Rover Defender.  After watching a video explaining all the potential horrors, dismemberments, and deaths that accompany 4-wheeling and beach driving--and signing our lives away--we set off for the ferry.

Is there some universal boy gene that expresses itself when multiple boys are placed into one row of seats in a Land Rover?  Our children transformed into a wild pack of wrestling dingoes.  And I know you're thinking that I should give them a break, because of course bumpy, 4-wheel tracks are going to rile them up.  Jeez, why can't I cut them some slack on their first 4-wheel drive experience.  I'll tell you why--

We were on the effing ferry, and the car was parked.  PARKED.  With the boys a frenzied heap of twisting limbs and noggins inside the vehicle, I stood at the edge of the ferry and gazed out at the waterway, breathed in the salty air, took a sip of my cappuccino, and tried to muster up patience for the next four days of driving.  I also noted the sign indicating that we were currently in a waterway which was home to saltwater crocodiles ('salties') and wondered if I could possibly jump in and swim back to shore in one piece, free for a spa weekend and far, far away from my family.  I quickly calculated that being a prehistoric beast's breakfast would prevent me from spending time at beautiful beaches like this one, so I resigned myself to four days of the inevitable automobile-related frenzy.

At precisely this moment, I realized that our camera--the one that we needed to document and remember our family's experience in this amazing environment when they were not torturing me in the car--was in Ferdinand the Minivan's glove compartment.

In the rental car place's parking lot.

Across a salty croc-filled waterway.

SHIT.

Never have I been so happy to own an iPhone, as it was all I could desperately cling to in hopes of photographing our time.  But of course, I didn't bring the car charger for the iPhone so I had a day and a half of battery, tops.

SHIT.

Driving on the island is a four-wheeling driver's dream, with sandy, rutted inland tracks and 50-odd kilometers of beach driving with streams, washouts, and rock bypasses.

inland tracks

beach driving (and making room for an oncoming plane)

But despite the kids' initial excitement over the experience, we determined that the Tunheims are simply not a four-wheeling family.  We endured the slow, jostled driving as a means to an end and it was worth it to access the unique beauty of the area, but we certainly didn't happen upon a new family hobby.

One of the reasons I had chosen Central Station campground (apart from safety) was that its rainforest made it a destination even for those who weren't camping there.  And the greenery didn't disappoint--our own campsite was edged by this gorgeous massive, mossy fallen log, and its friends were scattered amongst the grounds, with countless others towering above us.  The weather seemingly changed in 12-minute intervals from rain that dripped lightly after being filtered through the leaves above to sunshine barely glimpsed through the canopy.

I went on a much-needed solo hike along a small portion of the 90km of hiking trails along Fraser Island's Great Walk.  As someone whose favorite color is green, I marveled at all the shades and textures; a feast for the eyes.

solo-hike self-portrait

When I get home, I want to print a bunch of Australian leafy greens photos and hang them up in my bedroom so I can have a piece of that beauty in Colorado.  I'll leave that unshowered, sans makeup photo for the blog; it's bad enough that Sam has to wake up and see it each morning!

Back home in the States before we left on this exchange year, I asked the New Zealander that co-owns the awesome Curtis Park Deli what some of the must-sees were in Australia.  Fraser Island's Lake McKenzie was top on his list, so off we went.  As we walked down the path from the carpark, I caught my first glimpse of water:

And then in full view:

The lake is perched, which means it contains only rainwater, and the soft, white, pure silica sand is so incredibly fine that I used it as a scrub on my face.  The water is so pure from being filtered through the sand that it supports very little life--but you can drink it as you swim and it tastes better than anything coming out of a faucet.

The recent high rains meant that much of the white sandy beach was underwater so the lake was less gorgeous than usual, but really, I wasn't about to complain--lowering the description from stupendously gorgeous to incredibly gorgeous means it's still a pretty damn beautiful place to spend time.

We visited the lake twice, since our first late-afternoon visit got a little chilly as the sun fell behind the trees, and I took as many pictures as I could with my waning iPhone battery.

Kenyon is going to remember little to none of this trip since he's so young, so I try and take as many pictures as I can of him to help us talk about it for years to come.  Plus, I just can't get enough of his face.

I love this one that Kenyon took of us.