Rocky Mountain High

I just had a glass of Malbec, a room service dinner  and a long, hot bath.  Am I on a solo vacation?  No – we are at a conference with RZIM in Colorado Springs, CO, staying at  The Broadmoor, the  most beautiful resort I’ve ever been to in the States, and Casey has gone to the Ballroom for a five course gourmet dinner and a session with a phenominal speaker, and I am here in a room to rival all rooms with a sleeping Kenny and a mug of hot tea, wrapped in a spa robe, and relaxing.   Though I wish I could have joined Casey for what will no doubt be an incredible evening, I didn’t exactly get the short end of the stick.

We had a wonderful day here before the conference kicked off.   We visited the Cheyenne Mountain Zoo, where we fed the giraffes (no joke – we were in a tree house and they were nose to nose with us), watched deer swim in the mountain lake in the center of the resort, and Kenny, the apple connoisseur, ate his first three dollar apple from the hotel coffee bar.   We’ve seen old friends, made new ones, and learned what happens when you take a jet-lagged toddler to the white-tablecloth breakfast buffet.   We even met several dozen secret service agents, K-9 dogs and local police… it turns out that Dick Cheney is a guest here tonight as well.   But I think Kenny’s favorite part of the day, second only to playing in the floor of the massive ballroom with twin boys five weeks younger than him, was taking a bath in the over-sized tub here in our room.   I was so jealous of his obvious good time, and the fact that we could have easily fit another seven people in there with him, that I took a twenty minute bath myself as soon as he fell asleep in his crib.  

Oh, the crib.    It’s the  only thing not five-star about this place.   It’s a vintage (read: hopelessly old and not quite safe) metal crib, about half the size of a pack-n-play, with bars perfectly spaced for a toddler to stick his legs through and get stuck.   Kenny is sleeping now, thank goodness, tired enough not to voice opinion about the thin mattress, nor renew his efforts to squeeze his little thighs through the bars.

I am still hoping to attend at least some of the sessions of the conference this weekend, but  our little guy will have the last  word on that.   For now, I’m content to put up my feet on this luxurious feather bed and read an  Amy Tan  novel with no interruptions, no Dudley trying to sit on my lap and lick himself silly and no dinner dishes crying out to me from the kitchen.    Definitely not the short end of the stick.   Now if only I could figure out how to have an in-room massage without Kenny waking up…