Babies Come From Heaven

Baby Max

Back in the day when I was thinking about someday being a 'mom', I only thought about the little kid mom-issues. Didn't sound too hard. Diapers, play-dates, Kool-Aid - nothing I couldn't handle. I never for a second approached the thought of my kids needing 'the talk'. (The first whopper of a step on the way to being a teenager, ugh.) Suddenly that seems to be an issue. Grey, who will be six this month has asked me repeatedly over the last week, "Sooo, how exactly do babies get in the mommies' tummies?". First I told him that Heavenly Father puts them there when he's ready to send down a new child. He squinted his eyes, furrowed his brow and said, "No, how exactly?". Great. I'm SO not getting into 'how exactly' with a kindergartner! Then, a feeling of relief overcame me as I realized I didn't ever have to tell him about the birds and the bees - this must be my reward for having only boys. I pawned the whole thing off on 'daddy', who told him to ask again in a couple of years. (Which means, of course, he'll keep pestering me about it until he moves on to some other mystery. Meanwhile, Max, who wouldn't dare ask that question if his life depended on it, has sat through each of Grey's little interrogations as silent as a stone. I'm thinking we got 'the talk' when were in, what, fourth grade? I hear so much about kids 'growing up' faster now with the onslaught of information that is constantly thrown at us all. Does that mean the point on the timeline where he actually needs in on that fun discussion has been moved to sooner than later? I mean, I'm pretty sure he still believes in Santa Claus; surely he can't be ready for this. Tyler is no more excited to sit down with him when the time comes. After all, his dad simply gave him a book titled "Now that You're Twelve", told him to read it and ask him if he had any questions. Right. "Um, Dad, I have a question about page six. . .". He was fourteen at the time, by the way. It didn't matter that his parents kept him out of the sex-ed program at school. His friends and brothers had already filled him in on all the gory details long before. So, he doesn't really have a good 'talk' to base his off of! I can't say I'm anywhere near being ready to have my little 'angels' knowing all there is to know. . . but how much time do we have left? A year? Two?

Boys Will Be Boys

Being the only girl growing up I always kind of thought I knew everything about boys. (I also felt like I knew what it was to be an only child - just with more battle scars.) Turns out I was wrong on both fronts. I get new glimpses into the male psyche every day through the four male minds I am now surrounded by. Most of the time the glimpses I get are endearing, but some of them simply reaffirm how completely different our two genders are.

Glimpse #1 - Boys on Cleaning

Me- You know what I hate? (not waiting for an answer) Dirty dishes left in the sink.

Tyler- You know what I love? That this sink is big enough to hold so many dirty dishes.

Glimpse #2 (literally, ha, ha) - Little Boys on Hygiene

Upon walking into the bathroom I discovered an un-flushed toilet - apparently this is the final stage in potty training, even my oldest (not the grown-up boy, thankfully) forgets this all too important step! (Just let it go children!) HOWEVER, instead of being upset I was overjoyed at the fact that at least whomever forgot to flush, used toilet paper! Hooray for small miracles.

Glimpse #3 - Boys on Onomatopoeia

You know how little (and big) boys use sound effects for everything? Half of Nick's names for things when he first started talking were really just the sounds those things made. Now he's progressed enough to have the following one-sided conversation with me:

"Mom, dis so funny. Gaba Hud (Jabba the Hutt) is all 'Bwaa, uhh'. An den Wuke's yike 'Whaauun-Whaauun' (light saber noises, I think). Den Tooey's (Chewie) all 'Awgghh'. And Gaba goes 'Oooogh! phhhhh!'. and dat's so funny. He goes 'Phhhhh!' Yike dat."

And Mommy 'goes' "just smile and wave, boys, smile and wave", because if I hadn't seen whichever Star Wars movie that scene was from I SO wouldn't have known what that conversation meant. Any boy -Star Wars fan or not - would have.

Glimpse #4 - Boys on Hats

One 'boy' in our house who has great hair can hardly be without his precious baseball hat - ever. If he was having a 'bad hair day' I would cut him some slack. If he were balding I might understand. If he were heading off to, say, play a baseball game I would get it. But, seriously, he gets out of bed in the morning and the hat is on before his feet hit the floor. He's not dressed, why is the hat on? 'Going somewhere', I ask? 'Yeah, downstairs', he says. 'Pants?', I say. No,no, not necessary yet, but the hat is. Today I witnessed him putting the hat on when he was heading to the shower. I cocked my head like a confused hound dog. How does the shirt come off with the hat on? Seriously. He just smiled at me, took the hat off, took the shirt off, and put the hat back on. Is it some sort of grown-up-boy rebellion?

Glimpse #5 - Boys on Hampers

Clothes Hamper: convenient, tidy receptacle for dirty laundry. AND the clothes form a pile adjacent to said hamper. We put a laundry chute in our house thinking the little boys would have SO much fun throwing their dirty clothes down it I would never have to search out their dirty underwear again. That lasted about, mmm, three days. Action figures are much more likely to make the journey down than a pair of jeans. Max actually goes to the effort of shoving all his dirty clothes (except his socks which he shoots into various hidden nooks and crannies) behind the clean clothes hanging in his closet. My biggest boy puts his unmentionables in the hamper and lays the rest of his 'worn clothes' in a pile at the end of our bed because he might wear them again. . . I say (girls against sniffing out the dirty laundry unite!!!) if it's not clean enough to put back with the clean clothes. . . probably not clean enough to wear. Maybe that's just me...

Glimpse #6 - Little boys on Kissing

Even my little Nick now covers his eyes and says, "Ewww" any time anyone kisses in a movie.(Okay, so that's pretty much just Anakin and Padme. . . or, maybe a few others.) I'm quite sure all the little girls of the world just blush and giggle.

In 'real life' even kissing has to have some goal behind it, some undetectable prize. As any purpose for kissing is lost on the little ones Nick has remedied all kissing situations (such as goodnight kisses, owie kisses, etc.) by deciding it's a contest of sorts and pronouncing a winner each time. Don't know what the rules are. Doubt there is a system of points. All I know is that upon being kissed, or delivering a kiss he shoots his hands over his head and shouts, "I WON da KISSING!". Boys.

Glimpse #7 - Boys on Fun

Tyler used to always say "A dogs' happiness is directly related to how dirty they are". So true, and so true also for little boys. Holly and I took the boys with us to ride at the arena today. I planned for their warmth - coats, hats, gloves, and cocoa. I planned for their entertainment - backpacks full of toys / books / you name it. I planned for their tummies - they had cereal, grapefruit, and eggs before we left and three snacks for while we were there. I didn't plan for the dirt factor. Why? Because I'm a girl, and no matter how much time I spend around horses and horsie-places, I would never intentionally get down in the soft, stinky, manure filled dirt. Just wouldn't. Why would anyone. . .unless they were boys. You would think I would have learned by now. We had been riding for maybe ten minutes with the boys safely stowed on the bleachers when Grey called to me. I knew they had been running circles around the bleachers but was still surprised when I looked up to see him covered from head to toe in the extra filthy dirt of a riding arena. I'm not talking 'I got my boots. . . dusty' covered either. I'm talking I'm-not-sure-what-color-his-jeans-used-to-be, didn't-I-just-wash-that-coat, why-does-my-five-year-old-have-a-mustache covered. When I asked him why he was so dirty he simply said, (with an expression of bewildered innocence) "I was rolling". Yes, rolling. Like, 'duh, rolling, Mom'. Of course he's rolling - look at all the dirt! Later in the day he said it was his best day ever. I'm thinking it was the dirt. No wonder they don't like to clean.

All things said, I love my boys, all of them. I love that they are such boys. I love their funny boyish ways. I love that I can see my own ridiculous girlie habits and quirks more clearly through their eyes, and hope I am the better for it.

* photo courtesy Kiera Eve Photography

Every Batman has to start somewhere

I walked into the den to find this little scene yesterday - NOT that there is anything abnormal about Nick playing on the computer. We even caught him downstairs in this same position one night well after eleven - when we thought he was asleep in bed. Little sneak! He is way too literate in the subject for my taste already. (Maybe it's a good thing, who knows.) His whole outfit totally cracked me up though. He was watching Lego Batman 'movies' over and over, apparently the cape was necessary for this exercise. Right after breakfast the first thing he asks invariably is "so, it's okay I go hop on da 'puter?". I'm a little a-scared.

(Please note that one of the garlands only has half of the lights working. . . I got a good week out of them before they burned out though.)

(Please do not note the mess on the desk. Thank you.)

Happy Halloweeeeen!!

(Max as a Dementor, Grey as Zorro, Me as Elphaba the Wicked Witch of the West, and Nick as Batman. . . ready to hit the streets and get some candy! Oh yeah, and Tyler as the cameraman and door-answer-er.)

Oooooo! (That's a scary ghost sound by the way.) Nick has been drawing little blobish circles and saying 'Oooooo' for weeks now. 'Dat's a scary ghos, Mom'. All the little blobs look pretty much the same to me, but he assures me they're all very different ghosts. SO, our whole family has been pretty preoccupied with Halloween for some time now and now that it's officially over I'm not sure I want to let it go. The spooky decor is definitely staying up a few more days at least.
Th boys' school doesn't let the kids wear costumes to school on Halloween which I thought was very sad. I have great memories of the Halloween Parade at my elementary school. Teachers and students dressed up, parents came and the entire school tromped through the halls and through every classroom in the school. I'm sure it was chaos for the faculty and maybe even a dreaded event, but seriously, it was great fun for the kids. Part of the fun of being in costume is seeing (and being seen by) all your friends. In lieu of any costumed festivities at school I told the boys we would have a Halloween Costume Party for them at the house. Their guest lists weren't too bad separate, but they were a little spooky put together! We had twenty-three kids (and Grey's amazing kindergarten teacher, his wife and their son even stopped by - the kids went wild. He's quite a celebrity to them). When all was said and done (seventy-five 'witch-finger' cookies, twenty-three spider cupcakes, and twenty-three treat bags later) it was a very crazy, fun, chaos-filled hour-and-a-half! I'm definitelty glad we did it though and think it might have to become a tradition for us.

Witch Finger Cookies

I didn't have a chance to snap any pictures until the very end of the party. By that time, of course, most of the little goblins had shed multiple pieces of their costumes. Too bad I didn't group them together for a shot in the beginning - they were so adorable!

Anybody Still There?

So, I had a fit of 'time to get every project you've been thinking about doing for the last year done'. SO, after making some serious headway in the realms of mounting things on the wall, random organizing (picture me, a bajillion greeting cards, and a cute little file box - it's sickening and wonderful all at the same time, I know.), and, of course, more unpacking. I've had enough. For awhile. (I'm really quite productive when I'm not blogging, or reading what everyone else is blogging. Who knew.) Then an overly happy announcer-type appeared out of nowhere, shoved a microphone in my face and said "Well, Wendy, now that you've finally folded all that laundry and painted another wall shelf, what are you going to do?" Like any good American wanting to help spur the economy I cried, "I'm going to Disneyland!" And so it came to pass. We've always tried to do Disneyland in the off-times before but I had to see what all the "It's Halloweeeen Time" fuss was about, so off we went - along with at least half of the state (and some Az folks too) during Fall Break. Somehow we fit two eleven-hour days at Disneyland, a day at the San Diego Zoo, and a day at the beach in. I have to admit, the parts of Disneyland and CA Adventure that were decorated were pretty cool. Seeing the 'new and improved' Haunted Mansion alone was worth the trip. I'd like the Disney Staff to come and decorate our house for Halloween now, please.

The boys throwing out . . . who knows what signs.

Noodle and Tyler

Oh, look, it really IS the happiest place on earth.

We stayed with our good friends, Kara and Jason for the last few nights. One night we even left our kids with their kids and snuck out for an amazing dinner at our friend Jason Knibb's restaurant, nine-ten, in La Jolla. We miss his cooking Soooo much. He left the Tree Room five years ago and our mouths still water just thinking about our many favorites of his dishes. He truly has a gift. Mid-bite of one of the appetizers Jason sent out Tyler rolled his eyes back in his head and actually said "If he was a girl I'd date him!". Um, yeah. I know. At least it's not as bad as what I thought he said at first. . .

The next afternoon at the beach wasn't warm enough for playing in the water, but the boys did anyway. What was I thinking by NOT putting them in their swimsuits and heading to the beach?

To be fair, Max kind of tried to stay dry, and kind of succeeded.

Nick was scared to get in the water without holding one of our hands. (except for the moment of heroism when he tried to pull Kara and Jason's toddler out of the oncoming tide to 'safety'. . . by her hair. Poor Nick was so scared of the water he was crying the whole time he was 'saving' Mia.

Grey, on the other hand, was being typical Grey. He's 'not trying to get wet' in this picture in fact. Notice, please, that his hair is dripping. And, yes, his clothes couldn't possibly soak up any more water than they already had at the point I took this picture.

Kara and Me. I know, I look ridiculous. My hair gets all psuedo-curly in humidity, and then the jewelry. . . For all you know I'm wearing a big frilly white skirt. Cha, cha, cha!

Our two families. . .Ready to go 'home' as the sun sets. Thanks for you hospitality dear friends!

How Did This Happen?

I'm a little late with this post, but if I gave up all the things I'm late for, sadly, I wouldn't do a whole lot. (Since tardiness is my ONLY flaw I've decided to embrace it rather than try to overcome it. Oh, sorry, that was a lie. . . so I guess I have two faults.) ANYWAY, enough about me, my BABY BOY is three. HOW, I ax you, did that happen? Apparently letting him keep his binki at bedtime didn't stay the hands of time. Now he has officially even given the binki the boot. He tossed his last two into the stinky garbage can last night in a moment of reckless abandon. An hour or so later when we headed for bed, he tiptoed back downstairs for them but came back empty handed because the garbage can smell almost made him sick! (You see, there are advantages to not taking the garbage out immediately. Although, that's really the only one that comes to mind.) We'll have to see how he does without one tonight!

I feel like I've been able to enjoy Nick's crazy antics a little more than Max and Grey's because I don't have a new baby to steal some of the attention. He's such a character - so sweet, goofy, and mischievous! Even though when I ask him if he's 'my boy' he always says 'NO, I Daddy boy. You Max and Grey boy'. Apart from from the obvious mix-up of me being the older boys' boy, rather than them being mine . . . he's really quite precise in how he feels the family is split up. But I know - deep down inside - he's my boy too!

Happy Birthday Little Man!

The Duke of Escalante Oct. 29, 1995 - Sept. 4, 2008

"We need another and a wiser and perhaps a more mystical concept of animals. Remote from universal nature, and living by complicated artifice, man in civilization surveys the creature through the glass of his own knowledge and sees thereby a feather magnified and the whole image in distortion. We patronize them (animals) for their incompleteness, for their tragic fate of having taken form so far below ourselves. Therein we err, and greatly err. For the animal shall not be measured by man. In a world older and more complete than ours they move finished and complete, gifted with extensions of the senses we have lost or never attained, living by voices we shall never hear. The animals are not brethren, they are not underlings; they are other nations, caught with ourselves in the net of life and time, fellow prisoners of the splendor and travail of the earth." - Henry Beston

My heart is broken. My friend, my old running and riding partner, my protector, my confidant, my first 'baby' - is gone. We have known it was coming for years, but as much as that makes it seem like it should be easier to say goodbye, it doesn't make it so. Knowing he was failing horribly doesn't make it easier. Feeling he is in a better place now doesn't make it hurt less.

We got Duke the summer that we got married as a hyper one-and-a-half-year-old from some friends that didn't have the time to put into training him. That was eleven and a half years ago. We already had an older Golden Retriever, Gert, that surprisingly took him under her wing. Between her training and Tyler's I hardly had to do anything. Duke came to work with me when I used to guide horseback tours and ran back and forth in front of the horses as we went - the same way he did when I took him running. It was like he couldn't help but run on ahead to see what was there, but he kept coming back to make sure I was still there. He must have covered at least twice as much ground with all his doubling back. If ever there was a dog whose physical makeup resembled 'Tigger', it was Duke. His 'bottoms were made out of springs'. He could jump vertically past my shoulders - from a stand-still, and would just because he was happy to see us.
Duke was all about being a retriever - if he didn't have a toy to be thrown he would find one - sticks (of course) and old water bottles were his favorite 'found' treasures. He would fetch as long as he could find someone to throw. If there was water involved there was no dog happier. He would leap with reckless abandon off of docks, the boat deck, rock walls, you name it. If you threw his toy - he would fly first, and then swim to bring it back.

Thunderstorms and fireworks, however, melted the poor thing into a quivering mess. Everyone knows animals act differently before a storm and if you know what signs to look for you can predict the weather. Duke was far more accurate than the weatherman, and an open book with his signs. Until the last year or so he never slept in our room, and a cold wet nose pressed into my side or nuzzling my palm in the middle of the night could only mean one thing. If a storm came when we weren't home Duke would burrow into the corner of our closet until either we came home, or the storm passed. His 'Tigger'-like hind end came in handy for him if he was outside when thunder started to roll - no fence could hold him. He ran, and ran, and ran - apparently he was trying to outrun the storm because he would turn up miles and miles away from home and never in the same area twice.

When I starting working at the ranch Duke and our new(er) Golden came to work with me most every day. While Sadie was still learning to control herself and would endlessly disappear after elk herds, sage hens or anything else we came across on the trail, Duke would simply perk up his ears, take a couple of deer-like bounds towards the wildlife in question and come dutifully back to me. The only occasion I can think of that he didn't come back the first time I called, I'm convinced he thought he was protecting me. Maybe he was. I used to ride a lot by myself - I felt safe enough being on horseback and having the dogs there as well. It was late Spring and the elk herds had temporarily scattered a bit for the pregnant cows to have their babies. We startled one just off the trail. Her baby must have just been born because it wasn't standing yet. The new 'mama' charged us. Sadie, miraculously, came running to me but Duke ran straight at the elk barking like crazy. The elk kept lifting up onto her hind legs and then crashing down low with her fronts out straight, almost like she was doing a very exaggerated bow - but with a completely different meaning. Duke was doing the same thing. They were facing each other and turning in large crazy circles with the point between them as the axis, Duke barking and snarling the whole time. I'd seen him act that way before when he was playing with us, with other dogs (even with some coyote pups), but this was different - it was more serious. His tail wasn't wagging, his tongue wasn't lolling playfully out of his mouth. Instead his lips were pulled back over teeth in a snarl. My sweet boy looked absolutely ferocious. I was riding a young horse that wanted out of the situation and I had a hard time just keeping him from bolting as I yelled for Duke to come. About one-hundred yards up the trail I got my horse to stop. When we got to that point it was as if Duke decided we were far away enough to be safe and came bounding after us. Instead of his usual spot out in front, however, he tailed us until the cow elk finally turned around and went back to her baby. Then he moved to the front clearly high from his encounter. I had always felt safe hiking, running, and riding with Duke. I felt like he would protect me, although I imagined a human attacker rather than another animal. After that incident I knew I had been right. We protected him from his fears and he was ready to protect us.

We told ourselves once he couldn't get around well it would 'be time'. That stage came and went. He still seemed happy when he was with us and rarely let any chance to follow us around outside pass him by, even though he was moving in an increasingly slow shuffle. The arthritis in his front elbows had fused his joints stiff and straight. We tried every medication the vets offered. The nerves in his back had begun dying a few years ago and slowly his back legs had lost feeling, which is why he shuffled. He moved his front legs and the back legs would follow. Stairs became impossible for him to maneuver over the last two months, we carried him up and down. Once he couldn't stand up by himself we would pick him up and steady him and then he would be okay. And then suddenly he wasn't. He couldn't stay standing unless we held onto him for awhile and positioned his legs. Still, sometimes even then he would fall right back down. He could barely hear anymore, his eyes had started to cloud over and we couldn't keep weight on him. The look in his eyes said everything, and we knew we couldn't put him through it any more.

As Tyler dug Duke's grave and I tried to do something - anything to keep myself from thinking and crying more, I found poor tender-hearted Grey standing on the back bumper of the Suburban. He was peering through the open window at Duke wrapped up in a blanket and had the saddest expression I've ever seen on his face. I put my arm around him and told him it's okay to cry when you feel sad. Glad for a tender-hearted husband, I pointed out that 'Daddy' had cried too. He got down and hugged me and I could tell then that he had already been crying. I still remember the way I felt as a child the first time I lost a pet. I know it's a part of life. I know the level of joy can only reach as deep as the level of our sorrow. I know each loss helps us grow and cherish what we have. I know these things, and I'm still sad. I am sad to lose my friend and sad to watch my boys dealing with losing their friend too. Duke has always been an immediate part of their world, and now the world has changed, and I can't kiss it to make it better. More than sending the boys off to a new year of school, I feel like we all grew older today.

Duke, you are greatly loved and missed.

Too tired - continued

Feeling slightly remiss about all the blogging I've been thinking about but not doing. If only I could dictate straight to the blog while I'm musing. . . too bad.
STILL, I have no time to cyber-muse. So I'll be brief.
Three of my favorite moments from my sweet little guys this week:
1. Max - has decided he loves to sleep with his windows open so Foghorn (the rooster) can wake him up. . .funny how sleepy he still seems when I wake him up after the sun has been up for awhile. Can't believe how big he is now.
2.Grey-bug- told me what he wants to be when he grows up. Although he said 'an astronaut' first, he quickly changed his mind - before I could even fill in the blank on his teacher's questionnaire- to (drum roll, please. . .) a Ninja. 'Definitely a Ninja'. Does that come with dental?
3. Nicky- said 'bwess you' when I sneezed. How sweet is that? AND Nick came up to work with me for a little bit while 'the boys', as he calls them - he doesn't seem to get that he's part of that group- were in school. He helped me spray the horses down and then let them out for the night. Good one-on-one time.

The Capture

Okay, so it wasn't actually a capture. Remember two posts ago when Foghorn got out? Remember that? Well, I really did jump up from the computer to get him. As I slipped my boots on I yelled to the boys (you know, the ones that had JUST come running in to tell me the rooster was a.w.o.l.) to come help me catch the little sneak. No one came rushing out behind me though. I figured they were putting their shoes back on, and so I ran - so bravely, into the face of danger. No sign of the culprit. I knew all I had to do was listen for a minute though, he can't seem to help himself - he crows MORE when he is out of the chicken yard for some reason. Possibly a death wish. Sure enough, seconds later I heard him crowing loudly from the neighbors back yard. . .good thing the neighbor is my mother-in-law. Foghorn had escaped from the chicken yard (where he had clean water), gone through the horses' corral (past a water trough. . .full of water), past the goat (still more water), and squeezed through a hole in the fence of said mother-in-law's yard to get a drink from the dog's water dish. When I got there he was crowing, then he took a drink, crowed again, etc. until he saw me. He hunkered down low to the ground, and I swear he scratched at the cement like a bull ready to charge. Then he was off. If you have never seen a chicken run you must, by any means possible, find a way to see it. A. They are faster than you would ever imagine. B. It's so hysterical to watch them cruising at the speed of light, yet waddling at the same time it makes it almost impossible to give a good chase. I managed though. I even got one good picture of him booking across the corral. (yes, I brought my camera to catch the rooster. . . kind of thought I would be taking pictures of the boys chasing him around - very funny.)

By the time we were both back to the chicken yard back-up had finally arrived. It just wasn't what I was expecting (and I promise it was wearing clothes when I left the house).

While Nicky did bring his car and a plastic dolphin to help with the

capture I decided he would be most useful holding my camera while I tried to corner Mr. Leghorn. His photography speaks for itself.

He kept saying 'Ah see yo weg, no, Ah see mah weg!' And then the glorious moment evidently about the time of this pic, "Ah see mah ton!"

A final Nick's eye-view.

And, no. I didn't catch the blasted rooster. But Tyler did...the next day.

Five Minutes Later

Literally five minutes after I posted the entry right before this one I got breakfast for the boys. They wanted to eat on the deck which wasn't an issue except of course that Grey was still Gollum (his bowl of Crispix had taken my place as his 'precious'), ie: still in nothing but underwear. I tried (and failed) to convince him to at least put some shorts on. I tried to scare him out of it by reminding him the neighbors would be able to see him. If Max EVER had the notion to run outside in his skivies he would definitely have been held off by that argument - not Grey. "They can only see my shoulders, Mom." Apparently the neighbors can't see through the railing on the deck. I gave in. What's the use of being a kid if you can't run around in your underwear every once in awhile anyway?
I looked out the kitchen window a few minutes later to see Grey in this pose.



And, yes, he was saying "ah-oom, ah-oom".

If it's not Batman. . .

This morning:

Stripping the beds to throw the bedding in the wash. Grey curled up in his anywhere chair - in his underwear.

W- Hey, buddy, why don't you get dressed and I'll get you some breakfast.
G- Then I can't be Gollum.
W- Oh. Yeah. Good Point. Ok then, can you take your stuff to the laundry chute?
G- Yes. . . my precious.

Boys will be. . .

A couple of days ago the boys and I went to the ranch for a photoshoot with my friend, Kiera. She has graciously let me post me some of the great pictures she snapped of my three wonderful monsters. She has totally captured their enormous personalities! Hope you love these shots as much as I do! (I can't wait to see the rest Kiera!) P.S. the new header is one of her shots as well - "Look, an ant hill! Smash it! Kill the ants! Aaaaah!" (boys making noises of screaming ants)

Spring Break!

Spring Break came at the perfect time this year - Tyler and I were both about at the end of our ropes managing the building of the new house, still fighting the city about the old house, and handling life in general! If the only thing we did was NOT have to get the kids up for school that would have been enough to get through. We decided we really wanted to get AWAY for a few days though so we spent the second half of the week in St. George. It was just far enough away to relax a little bit (alas, the cell phones still worked. . .). The weather was perfect, we visited our good friends the Kinyons there, and had good friends from home down as well. The boys played in the pool for two days straight.





On the third day we went to our favorite place for breakfast (& lunch): Bear Paw Cafe. The decor is awful but the food is SO good the cheesy southwestern indian art prints are forgivable! While we waited to get in we played in the park across the street. The boys thought this bench with the statue of Brigham Young was even better than the scary Ronald McDonald on the bench in our local McDonalds. (Grey thought it was supposed to be Santa in the 'off-season', but Max quickly corrected him with 'It's Abraham Lincoln, Grey!')I love the look on Nick's face.



Later we went to the park that has the little water play area in 'downtown' St. George. We were totally unprepared - no swimsuits, no towels . . . no swim diapers. Max was completely dismayed by this. Nick, on the other hand, ran right past the "no running - swim diapers required" sign with his regular diaper peeking conspiculously out of his shorts and onto the slippery surface where little bursts of water shoot up. His face was complete glee until he slipped (right in back of the "slippery surface - water shoes recommended" sign) flat on his back. He cried until he saw the manmade sandstone waterfall and river area. Back to bliss. The two older boys were super whiny about wanting to be in the pool instead until they saw how much fun Nick was having. Check out the evil eye Max is giving me in this first photo!




It was hard to come back, but we were glad to see the house still standing when we did.