First Geocache

A few weekends ago, we were knee deep in house projects and were bummed about some neighbors making rude comments. Side story: We cut down two trees in our yard (one was dead) and they expressed disappointment in the form of the words, "We're sorry for your loss." When you've actually, really lost a child or anyone important to you, talking about trees with those same words is offensive. Those neighbors are forever on my list.

The weekend was full of hardware store trips and I needed to change this. We had to do something as a family. I'd been insanely jealous of my friend Renel adventuring with her family and had geocaching on my list for a few years now. I wanted in. I didn't want to schlep babies out to find caches and wanted it to be a family affair (though I could totally geek out on this all alone!). I had to wait until they were a bit older.

With a 1yo and 3yo and a weekend of mundane yardwork, I told the husband we were going on a geocaching adventure.

He rolled his eyes.

I knew he'd enjoy it once we'd started. He's just as --if not more-- adventuresome as me. Without telling me, he put in for a lottery to hike Mt. Whitney in 2007 (I was pissed!). We got it. We hiked for 16 straight hours and over 26 miles. It was probably the coolest experience of my entire life. All thanks to the pushy (and amazing) husband.

The cache was hidden .3 miles from our home in what looked to be the parking lot of a nearby parish. Problem was, it was on and off raining the whole day. Benjamin insisted on the single red stroller, so Claire went on my back in the Ergo. It wasn't raining when we started, but about halfway, it began to downpour. We took shelter under a tree.

My husband turned to me and said something about just aborting the mission. I was having none of that. So it was raining. So we were drenched. What else did we have to do anyway? And rain doesn't hurt anyone! Claire was surprisingly loving it. I told him he could head home, but I was going to keep going.

About 100 feet from us, there were 5 guys playing a drinking game with washers and old coffee cans. I told the husband that I would just ask these guys if they could get me a Ziploc so our phones would stay dry. He didn't like the idea (read: male), but I explained to him that these guys would probably give me the shoes they were wearing if I asked. Because, female. I assumed they would have to run in the house and grab me one. I asked, and one of the guys randomly whipped a Ziploc out of his pocket and handed it to me.

Phones dry, we trekked on. After searching around the bushes in the parking lot for about 10 minutes with Benjamin whining about going home and Claire becoming increasingly more drenched and dirty from gleefully sitting and splashing in a mud puddle, we found it.

Scratch. The husband found it. The stars in his eyes shined brightly and he recommended we upgrade our membership that evening.

We're Going on a Treasure Hunt

My son doesn't like getting his hands dirty. He'll play in the dirt, fully enjoying himself, until he realizes it's dirt and then it's all over. "Mom, I'm dirty. Clean me, please."

This past weekend, we headed out after naptime on geocaching adventures like we have the last few weekends. We tell him we're finding treasures. We are. Some of them, we even get to keep (for a trade). One of them had us through some woodsy ungroomed area and required we trek about 30 feet into the sticks. And branches. And rose bush thorns. We assumed he wouldn't, so we headed in. He insisted he wanted to go in. And when he cut himself on the rose bush thorns in two places, he had a mini issue, but gave himself a spit bandaid and moved on. Progress. When he found the chicken-shaped, totally adorable geocache "treasure," he was even more excited. He trekked back out of the woods and then insisted he put it back himself. He was owning that adventure. We were bursting with pride.

As I type this, we've found 19. Only on weekends and only together.

Five years now living here, we're sort of stuck in the there's nothing to see rut. But there is. And there are adventures to be had. I desperately want my kid, who could easily sit in front of Disney movies all day without breathing air outside, to seek adventure. To go outside and explore the unknown and expose himself to what may not be comfortable.

He may not be into nature and hiking and traveling quite as much as his parents, but we would be foolish not to at least give him that exposure. If you've never been introduced, how can you fall in love?

Last weekend, we parked our car and walked within about a two-mile radius just searching for geocaches a few miles from our house. We were digging under bridges and finding our way 300 feet into the sticks in the name of adventure. We stopped at a park we discovered halfway through our adventuring and then headed out for the next treasure hunt. We finished the evening with pizza, ice cream and talking of our awesome finds.

I started a treasure jar that both kids have dug through with excitement over the last few days. There's a 10-sided dice, friendship bracelet, plastic dino, trackable zebra, a nickel, a penny, and an "astronaut," which is actually a transformer robot-looking creature. But to Benjamin, it's an astronaut. To his parents, it's a memory of us getting out as a family and enjoying being together and outside in nature to cultivate the spark of curiosity that is born in every child. And with any luck, the spark can be made into a fire and continue to burn into adulthood.

We're all hooked.
(Except maybe Claire who has no freaking idea what is going on, but loves to find things and open packages and dig through that treasure jar just like the rest of us. She's good for an adventure as long as she has 1. snacks-- girl can eat and 2. allowed to touch some of those treasures without brother snatching them up.)