Fear and Parenting in Las Vegas

Climbing a volcano was a life list kind of thing for me.

Steve thought it was pretty cool, too.

So, he put aside his fear of heights and I nearly hyperventilated my way through tunnels* to the top of Diamond Head Crater on Oahu to get this view.

We took a friend’s advice and headed up as late in the day as possible, hoping to maximize shade on the arid, sunbeaten path with stairs and switchbacks. Steve powered through some tough foot pain** and even wiggled his way to the railing to look over the side.

The views were amazing. A full 360-degree panorama of Waikiki, Huanama Bay and beyond. The water was the most beautiful shade of turquoise that I had ever seen.

It reminded me of my son’s incredible blue eyes.

I had to call them to share this moment. They’ve seen volcanos on TV. THIS would surely impress my naturalists in training.

Hey Boo! You’ll never guess where I am?

You’re in Hawaii, Mommy.

I know that, Boo. But guess where I’m at in Hawaii?

[silence]

I’m on top of a volcano!! Isn’t that cool?

Mommy, I’ve got to ask you something.

Uh oh. What’s wrong, Boo? What happened?

Can I have a cell phone?

WHAT? You’re six, you don’t need a cell phone.

But Brandy has one. She let me use it today at daycamp.

Well, I’m not sure if it was Brandy’s phone or her mom’s or her sisters, but I doubt Brandy’s mom would give Brandy her own cell phone. You’re not even in first grade yet!

But Mooooooooom!

Boo, you don’t have anyone to call. You’re six.

But I can call Brandy.

Oh brother. I’ll talk to your dad, but as far as I’m concerned, you don’t need a phone and aren’t getting one until you are old enough and can pay for it yourself. Now, did I mention I’m on top of a volcano? It’s so cool! You can see everything!!

Why can’t I have a phone?

Ugh. Let me talk to your brother….

My volcano glory was usurped by a six year old with a cell phone.

Lovely.

____________________

*Yes, there are tunnels that you need to go through to make it to the top of Diamond Head. A fact that folks neglected to tell me until I got there. The military bored into the mountain to create lookouts and to haul gear to the top back in the day. Personally I think they were plotting to make claustrophobics like me have panic attacks and hyperventilate. Sick bastards.

**Steve and I attempted surfing earlier in the week. Note the emphasis on “attempting.” It wasn’t pretty, but it was fun. Oh and it was painful. Steve was thrown from his board, stepped on what the Hawaiians call “wana.” We call it a sea urchin who left spines in Steve’s heel and left him hobbling for most of the week. If that wasn’t bad enough, he tore up the tops of his toes on coral. I got it too, but I wasn’t nearly as bad as he was. He rarely complained and powered through the pain. My hero. Please send pedicure gift cards. STAT!

Dear Homeworld:

Thanks for letting me hang out on your surface for a little more than 38-ish years. It’s been my favorite planet so far (at least as far as I can remember).

You’ve got some cool rocks, beautiful oceans and amazing wildlife.

There are days that I’m amazed you can hold it together.

I mean, with 70,034,334,738-ish humanoids running around, I don’t know how you handle it. I have a enough fun working to support the humanoids under my roof. I can’t imagine what’s on your “to do” list each day. I mean with the tides, the weather, erosion, plate techntonics and the constant spinning? Geez. What a pain in the ass.

And here we go, polluting and generally abusing you day after day. Like a hoard of belligerent know-it-all teenagers, we act like we own the place, constantly asking for more and whining because you need to blow off a little steam or throw your weight around to remind us who really rules the roost.

And here we go, silly humans, in our attempt to appease your anger with a goddess-like day of worship to your motherhood. We spend the day making promises about recycling, reducing, and reusing. We set up carpools and bus passes. We install new lightbulbs and switch to rechargeable batteries. We adjust our sprinklers and consider ripping out out lawns and planting astro turf, rocks and cactus.

All in the name of saving you.

Well, I get it. It’s not about saving you. It’s about saving us.

The truth of the matter is that you, Mother Earth, were doing quite well on your own for eons of time before we humans climbed out of the primordial goo or were plopped down into a lush garden by the hand of God (take your pick — it really doesn’t matter too much in this case).

And you will do quite well once we’ve managed to let our wastefulness and greed and sloth drive ourselves into extinction. Finally us “kids” are out of your “house.”

And maybe then you can get a good night’s sleep.

So happy “you” day Mother Earth. I will try to be kinder, use less, waste less, and share more. Not because I think it’ll have a huge impact in the long run, but because it makes me feel better to be nicer to you.

I’d bring you breakfast in bed, but from the looks of Iceland, it seems that you already have a case of heartburn. For the sake of international travel, I’ll keep my sausage and biscuits at home.

Love,

Nancy