Wild Heirs

taking over Central TX one petting zoo at a time

quarry splash pad in leander, tx (review)

McKinley enjoys the waterfall feature at Quarry Splash Pad in Leander, TX

McKinley was one of only a few children to not lose their suit at the waterfall. Gorgeous landscaping and feature placement made for a visually restful time at one of the best waterscapes we’ve been to in years. Well done, Williamson County Parks!

at a glance

Mom Rating: ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ (5/5)
Kid Rating: ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ (5/5)
Admission: $1/person, child or adult
Our Total Trip Cost: $5
Parking: ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ (5/5)
Cleanliness: ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ (4/5)
Safety: ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ (4/5)
Sponsored Post: No 

prep

Yesterday was a lazy Saturday. The kids’ friends were all sleeping late, so my crew were lounging around the house with books and games. After a brief outing Donald dreamed up (he hates sitting still), we decided to start knocking things out of the To-Do 2012 list. We settled on the first item, the Quarry Splash Pad at the Southwest Williamson County Regional Park in Leander, TX.

Getting ready for an outing like this requires a strength of will and courage that I don’t think I’ll ever fully develop. Yesterday we had the usual, “Can ___ go with us?” pleas, and then several costume changes as the children were sent back upstairs a few times to get on the bathing suit; no,  just the bathing suit with no underwear; please find some shorts to wear over the bathing suit; no, I said shorts OVER the bathing suit not under it like underwear; no, I said NO underwear; why do you have socks on; what in blazes are you doing wearing a turtleneck; that’s your brother’s bathing suit and you’re a girl; oh my God, I’m giving you all up for adoption.

And that’s just the kids. Notice how I haven’t said what was required to get my own self bathing suit-ready for the outing. I won’t go into details, but I will say this: I was cursing the Italian in my blood, mostly while it flowed out from the various razor wounds. (NB — Now accepting sponsorship from Clubman Styptic Pencil. CALL ME.)

Reviews of the splash pad recommended footwear such as water shoes or flip-flops. (Each of us wore one or the other, which would later turn out to be overkill on a day that only topped 93°F.)

I was ready to run away from home by the time we had everything loaded into the car. Once the bags were in, I put on my “I Dance While I Do Housework” playlist and we boogied down for the 40-minute drive to the splash pad.

getting in

The Quarry Splash Pad is at the rear of the park, past several beautiful and well-kept ball fields. Despite the meandering drive, it was easy to find — a nice surprise. There was adequate signage, which I think is helpful for those who wish to rent one of the party pavilions at the splash pad. If your family is anything like mine, they want turn-by-turn directions given to them. The signs definitely helped.

McKinley, Jasper, Cordelia at Quarry Splash Pad in Leander, TX

McKinley is ready to go. Jasper can’t believe I’ve got the camera out before we even get into the place. Cordelia is telling me about a dream that featured a unicorn who did homework for kids who were nice to their moms. Good luck, honey. He ain’t helping you anytime soon.

Parking was very easy, another plus. As you know, unloading several children plus all the required bags and getting them up to an entrance gate can be frustrating. I was happy to discover a parking spot right in front of the gate, but even the spots furthest away aren’t outlandishly far. I’m (kind of) ashamed to admit that in years past there were places we’d gone where I took one look at the parking lot and proclaimed a sudden need for slushies and a playscape, skipping our original destination because I didn’t want to deal with the parking lot. But the kids are older now, out of the bolting toddler stage, and the lot has clear walkways that are easily accessible. Out of the van we tumbled, bags on shoulders and flip-flops flapping.

A short walk over a pretty little bridge later, we were at the admissions pay center. Admission is $1 per person, child and adult, and seems to be modeled somewhat on the honor system. There didn’t appear to be a staff member ensuring you paid at the ATM-like machine, but I wouldn’t risk blowing the fee if I were you, mostly because it’s bad karma and also the machine is kind of fun to play with. I put in a $20, selected “party of five” (and yes, I hummed the show’s theme song), and it spat out my change and a receipt (do we get a tax write-off for this?). Easy peasy, and fast enough that even if you’re wrangling a kid who wants to run down to the water immediately, you won’t have to wrestle him to the ground first.

I stepped back to take a photo of the machine, and a cute 20-something staff member popped his head around the corner of the concessionary to joke that I wasn’t allowed to take pictures of the equipment. If my husband and children hadn’t been there, I’d have felt more free to reply than I did. And that’s all I’m going to say about that. I regret not taking his picture as well, though. You know, in the pursuit of journalistic thoroughness or whatever.

basecamp

Instead of grass, the areas around the pad are covered in a nice astroturf surface. This turf holds a bit of heat, so take a picnic blanket with you to lounge on. The park rules state you cannot use lawn chairs with individual legs, but sand chairs with inflatable bottoms are permitted. I don’t recall seeing anybody using chairs at all; towels and blankets seemed to be the preferred seating choice. Large limestone blocks edged much of the turf area, and I often sat along these as I went down into the splash zone with the kids. There is shade along many of the sides, and with the sensible precaution of sunscreen, parents can be quite comfortable there while watching their children.

We spread out a thick picnic blanket, put sunscreen on everybody, then let them loose. Over the course of the next two hours, the kids would circle back to get a snack or drink from the bag. There are several picnic tables scattered throughout the entire splash pad area, and a few of them were still empty when we arrived there at 3:00. There is additional table-style seating in the various shaded pavilions as well, but all of those were filled with parties during our visit.

View of Quarry Splash Pad in Leander, TX

This is a view from the small bridge at the entrance of Quarry Splash Pad in Leander, TX. No bright colors, no giant structures, just gorgeous limestone blocks and various fountains and waterfalls. It was a lovely spot to lounge while the kids played.

purty

By now, I’m very tired of primary-colored play equipment. I’ve spent the last 11 years of my life sitting on benches and waiting for my darlings to pass out from exhaustion at parks, and I have started wearing sunglasses even in the winter to cut the glare of the brightly painted features.

I am happy to report that Quarry Splash Pad has no such nonsense. There wasn’t even overly loud piped-in music, as there so often is in these places. I can be very sensitive to noise, and parenting has done nothing to help that. Even with screaming children and water jets, adults could easily carry on a conversation without shouting themselves hoarse.

In the left of this photo, you’ll see a patch of green. That’s where our blanket sat, and it was probably the best spot in the park. I could see everything but the sand pit (more on that in a moment), so I spent most of my time lounging there and chatting with Donald or whichever kid had come in for a landing and few Funyuns.

There was a lot of open space, both in the water and out. There were perhaps 100 people there when we first arrived, and the numbers crept up to 150 or more by the time we left. However, never once was there a feeling of crowding. Adults were respectful of blankets and seating, and most of the ones we saw helped steer their children around the same. My overall impressions of the landscape design was one of natural beauty and openness, which I really appreciated. I never would have imagined I could end an outing like this saying I felt relaxed, but it’s true.

Speaking of space: there were only two places where crowding occurred, and when you consider the number of children there, this was natural. The water cannons (center of the photo) and the waterfall (off to the right side and inactive at the point the photo was taken) had children clustered around them, but nothing appeared to be out of hand. I didn’t feel compelled to body-check anybody for crushing my two smaller children. How novel!

Concessions at Quarry Splash Pad in Leander, TX

The concession menu and prices at Quarry Splash Pad in Leander, TX. The fruit options were a win for this mom. Donald saw the slushy machine and asked if it was for margaritas, and that’s when I got the idea of packing a flask of tequila for the next trip. (Not really.) (Maybe.)

food and drink

There is a concession stand at the entrance, but we didn’t make use of it. The prices seemed reasonable, and there were some choices there I wouldn’t have minded my children having. Again, this is not typical of our experiences out. We took an insulated bag filled with cans of cold ginger ale and sparkling water, paired with some bags of chip-like snacks (a thrill in itself since we rarely buy them).

facilities

The Yelp reviews for Quarry Splash Pad were less than kind about the bathrooms, but I didn’t see much of a problem with them except that they were covered in water and sand. I’m not sure why anybody would go to a public pool and play area filled with children (over half of them in swim diapers) and expect sterile surfaces. My standards must be pretty low. As long as there’s not a snake in the toilet or we aren’t in the human equivalent of a catbox, I don’t much care. It’s not like we’re in there for a tea party.

features

Three water cannons were to the left of the main splash pad, and they were fashioned to have a range only as far as one another. If a child attempted to turn the cannon around to spray others, it promptly ceased flowing. This was especially nice, as you must skirt this area to go to the water slide and the toddler water zone. If you walk to the toddler zone, be sure to steer your little one away from this, as the cannons could potentially knock one of the bitty ones down. There were a handful of limestone chunks in the middle of this area as well, so my advice is to just pass the cannon zone entirely by walking along the perimeter of it.

McKinley and Cordelia man the water cannon at Quarry Splash Pad in Leander, TX

McKinley and Cordelia man one of three water cannons. The area between the three cannons is, for lack of a better term, a killing zone. Only walk there if you want children shooting you with jets of water from all sides.

Just beyond the cannon area was a ramp up to the cement slide. I wasn’t sure at first how this was going to work, but it turns out the slide itself is coated in slick pool paint and there are small water jets on either side to make sliding easy. The landing area was paved in rubber cement, although I’ll caution you there is a limestone retaining wall at one side that could cause a head-bonk if your child comes down too fast or at a crazy angle. If your small child isn’t physically able to control his slide, it might be good to seat yourself at the bottom with your legs acting as a fleshy bumper as a guard against danger. The larger children came down quickly, but they were overall respectful of the littler ones exiting the slide at the bottom. The larger kids didn’t seem to have issues with the retaining wall at the bottom at all.

Downslope of the slide, the toddler area had weak jets and a walkway that featured dancing fountains, the small jets that arc over the walkway in a random pattern. I saw many toddlers there with their parents positioned on the walls nearby. It seemed the larger kids couldn’t be bothered with this area, a relief to those of us who have had to deal with our babies getting trampled at play areas in the past. A party pavilion was at the end of the course, and I saw a few adults from the pavilion come down to speak to larger children in that area who were acting wild. I’m not sure if those larger kids were with the party or not, but it seemed to me that every adult there was engaged in ensuring the safety of all the children, not just the ones they were visiting the splash pad with.

Cordelia in the sand pit at Quarry Splash Pad in Leander, TX

Cordelia and Jasper both visited the sand pit a few times during our stay. It was a good way for them to rest a bit between playing in the water. There was a dad here with his two little kids who reminded me so much of John Lovitz, I was hard-pressed not to fall over laughing. (Mr. Lovitz, if that *was* you, you have nice legs.)

To the right of the main splash pad, you walked under the entrance bridge. The surface in this area is rubber pavement, and it could be a little slick. Two 5′ climbing wall features were set in alcoves on either end of the overpass, a nice little break in pace. I saw many parents helping their children navigate the manufactured climbing rocks bolted into the sides. It might be tough for a toddler to manage there, and it would be too easy for a 10-year old, but the 4-9 year olds looked like they were having a blast.On the other side of the bridge/climbing wall area is the sand pit. A shade awning spans about half of it, and there are a shower and random ground jets for rinsing off afterward. This was a nice place for kids to dig, build, and generally mess about for a rest break.

safety

Exercise caution when walking through. As a rule, running is a very bad idea at the entire park, as there are children darting in and out of fountains and closing their eyes as they do it. I saw two collisions (Jasper was one of them), but no injuries while there.

Footwear had been recommended in previous reviews because of the surface heat. This didn’t seem to apply while we were there, but when the Texas summer hits us in full, I can see how it would be helpful. Flip-flops are allowed, but if your kid is a runner, you should opt for more secure footwear such as water shoes or lace-up canvas tennis shoes.

Limestone blocks are used for retaining walls and small visual features. Because of this, and the unsure footing one may experience in the more flooded areas, running should be discouraged as often as you see it.

Jasper on the water slide at Quarry Splash Pad in Leander, TX

Jasper takes a turn on the water slide at Quarry Splash Pad in Leander, TX. Note the limestone wall at the bottom. I saw the parents of some toddlers sit along that wall to use their legs as a bumper while their little ones came down. Older kids did not seem to have a problem with this. The landing area is surfaced with rubber pavement.

final analysis

I almost never say this, but I truly look forward to our next visit to Quarry Splash Pad. We were there for almost two hours, just long enough for everyone to get their fill of playing without being pushed to the point of exhaustion. Other adults helped keep the children in check, the spaces were open and easy to navigate, and the landscaping is very pretty. It was a relaxing afternoon for the entire family, and we all enjoyed our time there.

Jasper losing his pants in the waterfall at Quarry Splash Pad in Leander, TX

Pantsed.

1 Comment »

molten glass and waffles

A conversation around the breakfast table this morning:

Dee: Mom, is it true that glass is a liquid?

Me: Sort of. It’s what’s called supercooled. It remains in a liquid state while at a temperature — Mack, butter on these? — at a temperature lower than its melting point, but it never crystallizes like a regular solid. Jasper, get out of the dog’s face. Glass is called an amorphous solid [1], which means it doesn’t have a regular molecular arrangement like normal solids do. Do you want syrup? Rubber does something like this, too. It’s not just glass.

Waffles, a flickr photo by lisakayaks/kayakeverywhere. Click to see more of her photos!

Most families talk about daily to-do lists over breakfast. We have chemistry lessons.
(flickr.com photo by kayakeverywhere)

Mack: Butter.

Jap: I wasn’t.

Dee: Syrup. But what about old glass? My teacher said it’s a liquid.

Jap: I want grape juice.

Me: Even old glass. Bring a cup to me.

Dee: What temperature does glass have to be to melt?

Me: If you’re talking just about silica, I think it’s over 1000° Celsius. Here, Jap. Don’t spill it. But there are a bunch of ways to make glass, by mixing other chemicals in, like lime.

Mack: You mean the fruit?

Jap: I don’t like limes.

Me: Why did you ask about old glass?

Dee: My teacher said it’s wobbly because it’s still a liquid.

Me: I think that has more to do with — I said, get out of the dog’s face — how glass was made in the old days.

Mack: Another waffle, please.

Dee: I’m disappointed. It would be cooler if it was a liquid.

And then I was asked what kind of bowl you’d pour molten glass into, what would happen if you stick your hand into a bowl of molten glass, and what cauterized means. I’m in my office right now, throwing back coffee and trying to answer the bowl question because I don’t know the answer. I think it’s iron, but I want to double-check.

I do know, however, that it’s time for me to haul out my giant periodic table poster and put it on the dining room wall. I’ve been wondering what to hang in there.

—————

1. Yes. We really do speak to our children this way. We get odd looks when we’re having these conversations out in public, but I don’t believe in dumbing-down and cutesying-up the answers to the questions they have.

1 Comment »

bloat

To recap: The year was 2000. I was a 29-year old game writer, newly married, just-arrived in Austin, TX to begin a new career in my dream field, and now pregnant.

When I performed in theater, and for several years after, I made real money and supported myself with a full-time job. I had worked my way up from hotel sales to writing marketing materials for the corporate office, then moved away from the corporate life and became a contractor. I was the Queen of the Tri-Fold Brochure, and I also had a good reputation for ghost-writing articles and corporate communications. When my plans for game writing fell through, I didn’t know what to do next. I supposed I could go back to copywriting, but the thought of spending my life extolling the virtues of this hotel property and lauding to the skies that medical procedure made me want to cry. I was already having hormonal crying jags. I felt my face would never be dry again.

Eventually, Donald and I decided that I wouldn’t work at all. I’d be a stay-at-home-mom, which looked kind of fun considering the magazine articles and Internet forums I was reading. With the pressure off, I concentrated on being pregnant and doing pregnanty things in a pregnancious way.

"willy the whale" by mrkenny at stock.xchng

I looked kind of like this, except I wore overalls and cried a lot. And I don’t think I was as fun.

moby dork

I was told to expect nausea and fatigue. I experienced them. I was told to expect changes in my body’s shape. I also experienced that. What I wasn’t told is that it would all hit me at once, on a single evening, during an episode of The West Wing. I sat down with a cute little swelling around my tummy and a plate of saag paneer on a Wednesday in-house date night. I stood up looking like I’d swallowed Candlestick Park, along with half of the San Francisco Bay.

After years as an athlete and performer, I knew my body. I knew (and sometimes tested) its limits and respected it. I trusted it, trusted what it told me, trusted what I’d learned about it. I’d never had my body betray me before, but now it was doing bizarre things without permission. I showed early, quickly gained 60 lbs., and bloated to an unimaginable size at every point along my frame. Even my ear lobes were pregnant.

I never glowed. I didn’t bask in any sort of maternal cosmic oneness with the universe or whatever popular culture called it. I didn’t even like the idea of being a mom. This had not been on my to-do list and it had bumped me entirely off my groove. I was resentful, hating my body and hating what was happening to my life. I grew depressed, and bigger, and more depressed, and bigger still.

Oh, sing it with me, folks.

nesting

And I never nested. I’ve since had the pleasure (!?) of being around many pregnant women, and I swear they all passed around the same flask of Omega-3 superjuice laced with cleaning binge accelerant. Pregnant women are frightening in their ability to clean, redecorate, organize, launder, sew, knit, and other homemaking things.

I wasn’t that pregnant woman. I didn’t nest, except for one 45-minute period where I painted some tribal stripes on a miniature terracotta plant pot set. To this day, I have no idea why I did that. It was the weirdest, most impulsive thing I’ve ever done in my life, and I spent most of it in out-of-body limbo, watching myself hunched over the pots at the kitchen table and shaking my astral head. All the spiritual pieces of me eventually returned and went back to their normal spots. I laid down on the couch with the dog (who could only lie at my feet by this point) and fell asleep for four hours. Donald came home from work and I showed him the terracotta pots. The look on his face was the same as Ethereal Crystal wore: “Smile, don’t make eye contact, do not taunt Happy Fun Pregnant Whale.”

We were renting an apartment, and so we didn’t decorate a nursery. I didn’t have a layette prepared. No one offered to throw a baby shower. I didn’t know what to ask help with. I didn’t know what I was supposed to be doing, except staying away from sushi, and I cheated on that part.

I was frustrated with how pregnancy, which I’d grown up considering natural and normal, was so highly medicalized and treated like an illness. The individualist in me was furious at being told what to do and how to do it by family and friends. This was supposed to be my honeymoon year, the year I pulled my life together, the year of glory, love, and travel. Instead, this was the year I experienced Hell on Earth. I couldn’t get the support and information I needed from the people I loved, and I couldn’t get everybody else to back off and respect my personal boundaries.

failure

My whole life, I tried for things. If I wasn’t good at them or if I failed, I tried again and again, practicing relentlessly until one day I achieved my goal. This was true of sports. Of singing. Of writing. Absolutely everything I’d put my hand to would eventually be successful. It was just a matter of concentration and time.

Well, time was ticking onward, and I was concentrating on the pregnancy  harder than I’d ever concentrated on anything before in my life. Apparently just having a uterus, several hours’s worth of weekly OB appointments, and a birthing plan wasn’t enough. I had no coach, no real idea what the goal was, and I was trapped in a body and life I did not want. For the first time in my life, I was failing at something, and I knew it.

At the eighth month mark, there was another, larger failure in our lives, and we had to scramble.

No Comments »

summer starts at 12 o’clock

Today is the last day of school, and the kids will be dismissed at noon. In the car this morning, there were several discussions about what they were going to do tomorrow, their first day of summer break.

Mack: I’m not going to set my alarm clock.

Jap: Me either.

Dee: You don’t have an alarm clock, Jap.

Jap: I might get one.

Mack: So you can not-set it?

Jap: Yes.

Dee: You sound like Mom.

They have all conveniently forgotten that tomorrow they’ll be spending a few hours in the morning cleaning their rooms and the shared play room. I kept my mouth shut, but started humming this song.

Pookie and Cordelia in the paddle pool

We adopted Pookie at 12 weeks from Austin Dog Rescue. We discovered early on that she liked water, and she spent all of last summer in her very own paddle pool. I spent all of last summer Febreezing the wet dog odor out of the house.

big fun family effort

I’m a bit stumped on what Big Fun Family Effort Thing we’re doing this year over summer break. Last year, we got a puppy. I’m pretty sure I’ll be divorced if I do that to the family again, so now I’m considering home improvement projects, like finally putting down a sand-and-paving stone back patio and building a shade structure. Because team-effort home improvement projects with Logical Man Who Overbuilds and Ditzball Woman Minimalist will obviously strengthen the marriage.

memorial day isn’t as fun now that mom won’t let us drown

Monday is Memorial Day, and we haven’t made any plans yet. Last year, Donald and I took the kids plus their friend Mia to what is now Hawaiian Falls Water Park and had a really good time.  Back then it was just a few pools and a simple water slide. Waco has since added a wave pool and two large slide structures, and it looks great. It was easy for us to keep tabs on all four kids, but now I’m not sure we could manage so easily. Last year, the water park had lifeguards and staff everywhere, and I must say I was impressed with how good they were at keeping hundreds of kids and parents safe.

HOWEVER, I have a tendency to lose my marbles in public when I have more than one child to look after. I get distracted by a topiary, or a bird, or the song on the PA system, or the grit that has suddenly got lodged in my sandal, and by the time I come back from visiting Planet Crystal (the fountains run with iced tea, there’s a puppy for every visitor, and toilets plunge themselves), two kids have disappeared, fallen into a trash can, and/or climbed the strut holding up the roller coaster. Hawaiian Falls Water Park may have to wait until I have Donald and at least one other adult with us to help me not get my kids taken away by CPS.

This Memorial Day, I believe we’re going to try to catch our town’s parade (I say this every year and we never make it because OH MY GOD are parades early around here; I’m told it’s to beat the heat but I think they probably started doing this when we moved to town), possibly do a bit of fishing at one of the local lakes, and finish the day with a small cookout and back yard inferno. Pictures will follow, I’m sure.

and that’s why there’s a rhinoceros horn stuck in the passenger-side door

Beyond that, I’ve been trying to decide who I want to take with us on the safari in our minivan at Topsey Exotic Ranch & Drive Thru Safari in Copperas Cove. I considered various friends who have only one child, but the more I’ve considered the likely noise level inside the van, I decided to skip adding to it and instead chose my father-in-law, John. I was tempted to ask if he has a lady friend he’d like to bring along, as well, just because I think it would give me a great article for my magazine column. (Yes, I really think that way.)

Sadly, my kinder nature prevailed and I discarded the idea. The way I see it, a 60+ year old woman who is dating my father-in-law probably has enough nerve-shredding in her life. I don’t think adding three hysterical children and a minivan driver who keeps yelling, “IS THAT THING CHARGING RIGHT TOWARD US?” would be helpful to her.

And as always, I hope to be helpful to people.

Heh.

No Comments »

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

%d bloggers like this: