Old Man Carson

Sometimes I wonder if Carson was supposed to be born earlier than he was...like 20 years earlier. Examples:

- Paul or I said something to him the other day, to which he responded, "Indeed."
- Carson, should we go downstairs and play? "Perhaps we should." Perhaps? "Yes, mom."
- "Mommy, I TOTALLY saw awwwwl (all) of dem."
- "Don't worry, dis will work out duuuuust (just) fine."
- To an upset Layla: "It's awright, sweetie. You'll be okay."
- And many more, including but not limited to words such as: uddahwise (otherwise), actually, fwustwated, disappointed...I could go on. Never to fear, though - he balances his monster vocabulary out with some good old-fashioned kid-sized tantrums. Lest we as parents get big heads.

Cute little boy.

Doctor doctor gimme the news

Layla had her 18-month checkup today. She's almost 35 inches tall (>95th percentile) and weighs 23-something pounds (35th percentile). The doctor seemed a little concerned, because at her last appt she was in the 45th percentile in weight (50th in height, but he didn't seem to notice that one). "That's kind of a substantial drop," he said, referring to her weight. "Is she eating okay? Not drinking too much milk, is she?" I wished at that moment I had a picture of Paul in my purse. I think his percentiles, if they existed for adults, would just about match Layla's. All the doc's worries would've been forgotten as he realized it's just in the genes...

Anyway, she screamed the entire time, from the moment we walked back to weigh her (in true female fashion), through the heartbeat check, footprinting, head circumference & height measurement, doctor discussion (unbeknownst to me, she had a massive booger hanging out of her nose when the doctor walked in...now that's classy), doctor heartbeat check, ear check, more discussion, hemoglobin prick, one immunization, and clear up until the time we were headed out the door, at which point she sniffled out, "bye, dotdur."

About 60% of me felt really bad for her - poor little thing was just terrified - and about 30% of me thought that, at times, the level of dramatic hysteria was hilarious. Heck, while we're dealing with percentages: the last 10% of my emotional thought process was split between being annoyed at the hour-long wait and simply dreaming about leftover pizza for lunch.

We're blessed to have healthy kids...with extremely healthy lungs.

What time is it, Mr. Fox?

We have playgroup scheduled at the park this morning for 10:30. It's currently 10:32, and I just barely took this picture. I probably should be hurrying us all to get dressed to head to our playgroup appointment, but Carson just invited me to a sleepover in the camping closet. Mosquito-free camping? You just can't beat that.

A penny for a thought

The other day during a Book Club discussion ("The Bean Trees" by Barbara Kingsolver), one friend was describing to the group how she grew up in a very very rural area and how she thinks there's a different "rural" mindset that exists and how because of that she has a hard time finding something to talk about with the woman who was her best friend all through growing up (who is still living in that rural area). She obviously viewed her own choices as the "better" life path. At this point in the discussion, one of my other friends responded, gently, that there are still commonalities - for example, as women, mothers, a member of a family, childhood experiences, etc. - to be found.

It was just a sentence stated simply and kindly, but it's stuck with me. To get the most out of life, to learn to sincerely love people, to become (and remain) humble and selfless, we can look for the common ground with the individuals around us. I think the implications of this are enormous, especially as I continue to unravel the idea. I find that when I start feeling particularly down, it's usually because I'm isolating myself, one way or another, from the world around me. But, really, we're all humans and deal with human things - even that most elementary fact does and should place us all on "common ground."

I'm having a hard time doing justice to the impact of this idea on my outlook, but don't you just love stumbling upon a tidbit that totally changes your thoughts and maybe even habits? Love it.

Play hard, sleep hard

I think, at some point, every adult looks with envy at the life of a kid. I know I do.


You can make a glorious, huge mess and simply walk away, knowing it will "clean up itself."








You always have a lap to sleep on, especially in the midst of a rainy, cold, depressing Aggie football game.










You look studious while reading the comics.









You're encouraged to take your time to explore everything and anything. Layla loves to taste most of her explorations...*shudder*...




No one needs to ask questions.











Stick racing in the canal is exciting, bridges are enormous, and life is just beautiful.

The wheels on the bus go round...and round...and round...and round...

Yesterday, my friend Val and her baby Annie went on a bus ride with us to the library. First, we thought we were late, so we high-tailed it to the bus stop (about three blocks from my house; not an insurmountable distance, but it feels like that with my kids, who tend to dawdle and enjoy playing the game of "Go the Wrong Way so Mommy Comes Chasing After Me Then Shriek Happily and Do it Again"...it should hit the stores in time for Christmas, if you're interested).

The bus was running a little behind schedule, which was slightly annoying because (a) we had hurried in the first place, and (b) some creepy guy was waiting at the bus stop, and the longer we waited for the bus, the more he apparently thought we should be friends because he started talking to us and my kids. C'mon, bus. Hurry. Please.

Finally, the bus came. We made ourselves comfortable and made it safely to the transfer center, whereupon we dismounted and caught another bus to go to the library. We were soon happily on our way, minus the fact that Creepy Guy was on our bus as well. True to form, Layla made friends with many people on the bus, many of whom seemed scary to me but, when I think about it, they maybe needed a loud & friendly "HELLO!" to brighten their day. Either way, the girl is not shy.

Destination: Library. No problem, except we saw Creepy Guy get off at another stop and head toward the library as well. We hurried inside, watched the fish, typed in some probably irreversible code-altering commands onto the kid computers (thanks, Layla), checked out a movie ("The Wubbulous World of Dr. Seuss"...I couldn't believe our good luck that this cinematic masterpiece was actually on the shelves! Sorry to all of you who've had your eye on it; you'll just have to do one of those "place hold" deals online and wait your turn. The plot is absolutely riveting...), took many drinks from the drinking fountain, then headed back out to wait at the bus stop.

Good news: No sign of Creepy Guy anywhere. Phew.

By this time, the kids were still being good but the novelty of the bus ride was kind of wearing off. Layla was distracted from her antsiness with an apple, I don't remember about Carson. We got on the bus, which was totally full, and tried to find a place to sit down. Seeing that it was hopeless to sit right then, Val and I clutched our babies (I nearly dropped Lays, who was squirming all over the place) as the bus driver sped off, apparently still in the running for the coveted Most Intent on Staying On Schedule Bus Driver of the Year award and determined to take home the gold, regardless of fatalities. Anyway, after many jerky stops and starts, we finally sat.

Unfortunately, we were in the midst of about ten pottymouth tweeners. Note to self: never make my kids ride the public bus home from school. At least Carson amused himself by "sliding" down the bus floor under the seat in front of him. Val and I felt like we were in some bad horror movie, slash, Groundhog Day. We joked about how it was too bad we'd miss Paul's birthday, or maybe her husband could take Paul to dinner instead of me (which wouldn't be at all awkward for Matt or Paul...oh, wait...yes it would), since we wouldn't make it back in time. Or how, dang it, we forgot our toiletries and sleeping bags, and we'll just have to rough it through the night and try to make it home the next day...

Potty Mouths finally exited the premises, and I noticed a distinct aroma emanating from Layla's diaper (I wonder if the two are correlated; if so, good girl, Layla). At the transit center, I vacillated between just leaving Layla alone or changing her diaper. Finally, I couldn't handle the smell anymore, so, since our bus hadn't yet arrived, I found a semi-private spot and started to change it. Of course, my bus came (the last one and, therefore, in a hurry) right as I got her old diaper off - past the point of no return. Val asked the bus driver to wait for me and herded Carson on the bus while I hastily semi-cleaned Layla up and threw a new diaper on and ran for the bus, her onesie flapping, undone, in the wind and her shorts still down around her ankles.

Good grief. Val was dying laughing. It was all so absurd.

Our kids were exhausted (except Layla, who finished almost every morsel of her own apple and started in happily on Carson's), with Annie nearly asleep on Val's shoulder, and Carson lounging across his seat onto my lap. It was a never-ending bus ride (much like this retelling of it...). We made it home a few hours after our initial departure, about 5 minutes before Paul got home.

There's got to be a lesson to be learned here somewhere.

Word of the day: exciting

So I was watching my friend's two little girls, ages 2 and 4 months, for a few hours this afternoon. Carson was beyond excited, and when they finally came, he was practically dancing around; then he ran into his room, calling behind him, "Olivia! Come into my room! I have lots of EXCITING clothes! my shirts in my closet, and my shoes...my bookcase...my shorts and pants in my drawers, and my pirate pants!" Oh yes. Riveting.

He eventually bounded his way downstairs, shouting out, "Livvy, come downstairs with me! There's lots of EXCITING toys down here!" If she has a skewed definition of "exciting" for the rest of her life, we all know who to blame.

Oh, but then Carson and Olivia were downstairs while the two little girls were sleeping upstairs. All of a sudden, Olivia bursts out, "ow!!! I got an owie!!" Me: "where does it hurt, Olivia?" Olivia: "right here" (pointing at her cheek then her shoulder, followed by her thumb) "on my foot." Ah. Of course. Your foot.

Needing some Martha-esque advice...

These are some shelves I found at a garage sale last spring (three of them for $5, one is maybe going in our bedroom). They were hideous--old, cracking wood, yucky when I found them.

I repainted them and antiqued them, and thanks to a tolerant Paul (who doesn't love them but doesn't necessarily hate them), they're now hanging in our living room.

The decor is just stuff we had on-hand; it's going to be improved over the coming weeks, but this is just to start us out.

Taking yay/nay votes now, before we hang one in our bedroom... Any suggestions for improvement? Pretty please?

Marathon pics

Here we are at about Mile 16, very happy to see family & familiar faces. I'm constantly amazed by Katrina -- the girl does not sweat! Me, I'm a human fire hydrant.


Um, I don't remember exactly...Mile 18 or 19 or 20 (above)? Who knows. Jordan was awesome--he kept such a great pace that kept us all going but not too fast that we died early. I love these running buddies...and they're family to boot. That's a win-win.

Again, I'm not sure exactly where this is...around Mile 23, I think, judging by the fact that I'm listening to some sweet tunes. "Summer of '69" by Bryan Adams...the only song of his that I can even tolerate. I think I flipped past "Take it Easy" by the Eagles...that wasn't really what I needed to hear at that point...

Thanks to an emergency messy diaper that my All-Star husb had to take care of, Paul glanced up to see me cross the finish line. Consequently, we don't have photo evidence of that particular moment, but this area (in pic above) was fenced off "for runners only," so that should hold up in court. Oh, and for the record: this has to be one of my least favorite photos, but it's the best I could find right now.

I can't say enough good about Katrina and Jordan. We all kept each other going, we trained hard, we woke up so early on many Saturday mornings to do our dreaded long runs, Jordan told mission stories, Katrina kept me motivated (but I'm kind of mad that she looks magazine-worthy after a marathon)... I could go on and on. I love you guys and am so proud of you both. Thank you!!!

I wish some photos could capture sound as well. Michelle, I was screaming for you when Paul took this - you are my HERO!!!! What a champion. She's about 100 yards away from the finish line here, and look at her stride! Awesome, awesome, awesome.

Marathon

Hooray! Marathon's over...and I've caught the bug, because my sis-in-law and I are already making plans and strategizing on how to prepare for our next one... Here's how it went:

I woke up 20 minutes before my very early alarm was set and couldn't go back to sleep, but I laid (lay? can't remember) there anyway. Finally, I got up and got dressed, ate a banana, kissed my sleeping sweetheart, and left. There was a minor setback in getting everyone to the bus-loading park in one piece, but it all worked out in the end. Finally, the five of us (me, my two sis-in-laws, Jordan [one's husband], and Jayme [one's friend]) were all on the bus to head up the canyon. It seemed like a long drive, but it was uphill in the bus, so that rules.

We got off the bus and met intensely long lines at about 50 HandiHuts, so we joined one line. Of course it was the slowest, and the air was freezing, but about 20-25 minutes later, our needs were taken care of and we headed down a small hill to near the start. I rubbed some more Aquaphor (like vaseline) between my problematic toes, shed my sweats, and eagerly awaited the start of the race so I could start warming my body up. Plus, I just wanted to get started anyway--the sooner I started, the sooner I could be done! Finally, the starting gun went off and startled us all. We were far enough back (in the 4:31-5:00 section) that we crossed the starting line about 30-40 seconds after the starting gun. On our way!

Highlights:

-Almost all of the HandiHuts had someone's name permanently listed on the bottom. Not a distinguishing moment I'll aspire to, but whatever. Ours was named "Tiny," which, compared to the stench it emitted, was pretty ironic. Hold-breath-in-and-out.

-One guy was doing tai chi (or something else zen-like) on the hill before the start. I kind of laughed at him at first, then caught myself. Hey, whatever works for him--I then sent mental well-wishes and positive vibes his way. I hope he caught them.

-Some people wore big black garbage sacks, poncho-style, at the start. I'm not sure why; it wasn't rainy or anything, but maybe it helped them stay warm? But their running shorts were usually too short to show, so they looked like those naked-guys-in-a-barrel.

-There were so many different types of people; I was fascinated by watching them all. One stooped over little old man (in his 70s) was about 5 feet tall, if that, and he rocked it. Inspiring. Some people were obviously hard core; others were like me, wearing (gasp) a cotton tank top that happened to be clean. It was great.

-After we'd started running, some lady came jogging up to us (we had lost Michelle and her friend Jayme at the start; there were mobs of people, 1,900+, so it was just Katrina, Jordan, and me) and pointed at me, "Where are your gloves?!" She then proceeded to run off in front of us, shaking her head and muttering quite loudly, "You people. How can you think of running without gloves?..." True, it was chilly, but I was confused--I had my hands tucked into the end of my long-sleeve t-shirt, so how did she know I wasn't wearing gloves? And why in the world did she care enough to point at me? It made us all laugh.

-I had an MP3 player my brother-in-law Jeremy had let me borrow. I hadn't trained with any music or anything, but I thought I might need a pick-me-up and a distraction if my blisters started giving me trouble. I found, however, that I didn't even want to miss a moment of it all--I loved hearing people's conversations, hearing the loud silence as we all focused on getting up an incline, looking at the beautiful canyon, etc. So I ran, music-free, for the first 23 miles, and thoroughly enjoyed every minute. That little MP3 box saved my life there at the end, though.

-Some guy from a SLC-based social running club (called Loco-Motion) was super nice. He also breathed, quite literally, like a train. He passed us numerous times (we could never figure out how, because we didn't ever remember passing him--quite the mystery), and we LOVED hearing him come up behind us with his loud train-breathing. Hoo-hoo-heeeee, or something. It was so great.

-We loved the aid stations every 2-ish miles; it seemed to make the miles fly by. Katrina and I found ourselves sometimes thinking we were at a certain mile, only to find out we were further than that. (Which, by the way, is an exhilarating way to be wrong.) I don't like sports drinks, but I forced myself to take some Gatorade at every third station; water at all the others. Except at the end, when all I wanted was water.

-I love GU!

-There were two ladies wearing matching orange shirts and black shorts. Some guy behind us dubbed them the "pumpkin sisters." Hah!

-There were also two other ladies, about my age, who had bright pink-and-white-polka-dot bows in their hair, over their ponytail elastics. Their pace was solid and seemed to match ours, so we stuck about 20 yards behind them for miles. They were awesome unknowing pacers.

-Paul and the kids met up with us to cheer us on four times between miles 16 and the end. Some of Paul's family cheered us on a strategic spots, too. Those were highlights beyond anything--they kept me going.

-We were all feeling surprisingly great for about 21 miles. It was a pretty euphoric feeling, to have expected the very worst but to still be feeling so good! Katrina started to have some leg cramps, so we all welcomed a short walk and did a little walk-run combination for a mile or two. Katrina and Jordan were so nice; they could tell I was feeling pretty good, so they urged me to go on ahead. After a while, I did.

Those last few miles are like some sort of dream--I felt so good, it's hard to describe because it doesn't make any sense. I was seeing people struggling, and I thought I should be hurting and stopping to walk or something, but I felt great, so I just kept going. I'd watch up ahead to focus on someone, then slowly work my way up to them until I passed them. It was kind of like a game, which made things more interesting and let me run harder (in addition to the radio I flipped on at Mile 23--thanks, Jer!!!). I got passed by one person between Mile 22 and the end, and I met up with the little old 70+ year old man, who'd left us in the dust from the start. Even as I reflect back, I wonder how it was that I felt that good...I thought the end was supposed to be grueling, but for some wonderful reason, it wasn't. Hard, yes, and I was tired, but it was the same tiredness that I feel any time I go running.

I had to fight back tears three different times during the race (you know, to stay hydrated). One was at Mile 14, coming out of the canyon, and seeing all those people there to cheer us on (that was the first time spectators could meet up with us). It was just overwhelming. Then when I saw Paul, I nearly cried of happiness. Love him, love my babies. Then when I was almost finished...there's something magical about that finish line. Final time: 3:52, which ends up being just slightly under a 9-minute-mile pace. I had just hoped to beat 5 hours, so I was happy.

I loved it. I loved this race. I want to do a million more, just because it feels so great. (Well, it doesn't feel that great now...sooooo sore...I'm like a gimp hobbling around, and you can just forget about stairs.) And only got two blisters (which I didn't feel at all while running), on the opposite foot from the one I've been having troubles with. Oh, and this is gross: after the race, I had a little more time to examine myself, and I looked down...blood all over the outside mesh covering the toe of my right shoe that had come from a small cut on my toe. From the INSIDE of my shoe! Sick. Dah well.

Glorious.

p.s.: I just realized I forgot to bring the camera downstairs, with pics that Paul took...but there is no way I'm making the trek upstairs and right back down again just to get the camera. I got this one from a friend via email, so it'll have to do for now. More will come later.

I'm a little nervous...

I had a hard time sleeping last night. Worrying about the marathon tomorrow. Have I done enough to train? Will my blisters be okay? Will I get stomach cramps or sideaches? I'm trying to think positive thoughts, though, and I think that's helping...in fact, the only dream I remember having last night (in my 3 hours of on-and-off sleep) was of myself going on a roller-coaster ride that was supposed to be scary but it turned out being fun.

I'll tell you what else is fun: Layla's starting to use the potty for its intended purpose.

Wow. If that's my idea of "fun," I think I need to get out more. I will tomorrow. 26.2 miles' worth of out. Wish me blister-free luck!

Stevie Wonder sighting

During a hymn the other day in church, Paul and I happened to glance down our bench and could barely stifle the immediate irreverent snort-laughs that ensued. Why? Because Carson was perched on the edge of the bench, his eyes closed tight, chin tipped slightly up, swaying his head back and forth in true concentrated Stevie Wonder fashion. We caught him doing the same thing on a bus ride a few days later.

As hilarious a sight as it is, I can't help but wonder: Is there music in the air that I'm missing?

Layla Joyce

Layla is a hilarious little individual. She is constantly pulling goofy faces to get a laugh. She "counts" everything (as in, "ahn, tooo, fie, seben, ate, niiiiiine"). She loves sentences that involve three words in the format: "I ____ it," such as I did it, I get it, I found it, I see it, I have it, I want it, I need it, etc. She loves to sing; "Deesus" songs are her favorite, especially if she's allowed artistic license (e.g., "Deesus me faaaaasheee," which is a combination of her ultra-faves, "Jesus wants me for a Sunbeam" and "Frosty the Snowman." Runner-ups: Happy Birthday and Bimbo).

She likes to rough-house; yesterday on our jog, she started poking Carson in the stroller, which made him mad until he saw her laughing, and a gentle giggly little poking war ensued (these wars sometimes turn near-fatal, so we typically have to referee them quite carefully). She loves Patty Cake, minus all the parts except the "roll it" and "throw it."

She adores her dad and asks about him periodically through each and every day. She chooses naughtiness over obedience at every opportunity (e.g., she stands up in her high chair, she shriek-laugh-runs when you call her, and she purposefully messes up Carson's carefully aligned toys).

She's obsessed with shoes (her own and everyone else's) and her Teddy and Dolly, she loves to boogie, and she pretty much has the world wrapped around her little finger.

She definitely marches to the beat of her own drum. Me, I think it's a pretty perfect little drumbeat, most of the time. We all adore her, utterly and absolutely.

Today's little outing...

We went with my friend Val and her cute baby Annie to campus to watch some "Project Bandaloo" (or something to that effect), where these people do rappelling/dancing on the side of tall buildings. The kids enjoyed it for a few minutes...I know this, because Layla kept pointing at the people insisting, "I see it! I see it! Loot! [which rhymes with 'look'] MAMA!" and Carson would watch and let out some quiet "oohs" and "aahs" before busting out somewhat impatiently, loud enough to get a few head turns and chuckles, "SO, WHEN ARE DEY GONNA FALL?" I probably should've re-explained the whole point of the rappel dancers...and I would have, too, had I understood the "point" a little better myself...

Anyway, it was a pleasant outing. Pleasant enough that Val and I jogged home...and rolled our eyes as Carson called, from his comfy seat in the stroller, to Annie, in her comfy seat in the other stroller, "Way to go, Annie!" Please. Like you kids are doing ANYTHING to expedite the going-home process. But Carson and Layla loooove "baby Annie" (or "nannie," as Layla calls her), and we kidnapped her and Val both for the rest of the morning. I'm glad they didn't put up too much of a fight.

9/11..a Day of Reflection

I love being an American, for about a gazillion generic and personal reasons.

My "little" brother, Sgt. Anderson, is finishing up his 3rd deployment as a Marine...he's in Iraq. Here's a news article passed onto us by his wife a while back. There's so much I don't know and don't realize about war, nor will I ever. I think it's better that way. Regardless, I'm awfully proud of and unspeakably grateful for Brad and so many others like him.

Ramadi: A Tale of Two Cities

This is the first of two on-the-scene reports by VFW magazine senior editor Tim Dyhouse, who was in Iraq this past April. This was his third trip to the war zone.

Standing in a dusty plywood barracks at Camp Ramadi in April 2007, Marine Cpl. Thomas Nowicki tells a visitor why his buddies named a street after him. It was the site, he said, where he was badly wounded 2? years ago.

"Tommy Gun Street," said the 22-year-old married father of one, located some two miles away in downtown Ramadi, was a hazardous place back then. But much like the city itself, he adds, it's changed significantly.

The last time his Marine unit—2nd Bn., 5th Marines, 1st Marine Div.—had deployed to Ramadi, from September 2004 to March 2005, the city, capital of Iraq's Sunni-dominated Anbar province, was known as the most dangerous place in Iraq. But as of mid-April 2007, only a few weeks into a seven-month tour, Nowicki, from Midlothian, Ill., said his unit had been involved in only two small-arms skirmishes.

The threat of daily firefights, constant mortar attacks and roadside bomb explosions has largely disappeared for the time being, he said. But as Nowicki and the other 2/5 Marines, about half of whom are veterans of the battalion's first Ramadi tour, trained for the current deployment, they prepared for the worst. Their combat experiences the first time taught them that.

Nowicki's memories are still fresh. He clearly remembers Dec. 3, 2004, the day he was wounded, shot down in the street—really more of an alleyway, he concedes—that bears his name. He adds that he killed the insurgent machine-gunner who tried to kill him.

As part of an eight-man foot patrol scouting for sniper positions about 6 a.m. that day, Nowicki described the morning as "uneventful." The Marines were searching, he says, for a tall building with good sight lines of Ramadi's streets in which to hide their four-man sniper team.

Suddenly, muzzle flashes grabbed his attention.

"I was the seventh man in our group," he said. "We started taking heavy machine-gun fire from a two-story building. Then a car rounded a corner with about four insurgents firing AK-47s at us. They had us in a classic L-shaped ambush."

Nowicki remembers glancing over his left shoulder precisely as a machine-gun round ripped completely through his left arm. The shot knocked his A-4 rifle from his hand, leaving him sprawled in the alley as subsequent rounds slammed into the wall behind him, the ricochets tearing holes into both his calves, his hip and his thigh.

"Sgt. Anderson [the Marine directly behind Nowicki] lit up the car with more than 100 rounds from his SAW (squad automatic weapon) and it took off," Nowicki recalled. "The guy who was working me over must have thought he killed me because he changed his fire toward Anderson after I got knocked down. I switched to burst on my A-4 and took him out."

Nowicki said his squad killed at least five insurgents that day. After the firefight, he remembers Anderson, who emerged unscathed, taking off his neck gaiter (cloth cover) and discovering a gunshot hole in it.

"He turned white as a ghost," Nowicki said with a slight smile.

'Welcome to Ramadi'

Oh the innocence...

Tonight's FHE lesson was on the earth and how Jesus created it and allllllllll the things on it - trees, flowers, people, lions, fish, and everything else. Fast forward to a few minutes ago; Paul's showing Carson an xbox game (viva pinata; it's a cute little game) while I put Layla to bed. Carson: "Did Jesus inbent bideo games?"

Heh.

Just one of those days...

Ah, naptime. What a glorious invention. Is it just me, or is there anything more heart-warming than a child who's completely exhausted just because he's been running around like, well, a kid all morning?

Oh, and in case you're wondering, he TOTALLY gets the open-mouth-sleeping from Paul. Or, at least, he probably does. I think. Actually, I've never noticed Paul sleeping with his mouth open, but it couldn't possibly be MY trait...

Redneck Canyon

On Saturday night, we went up the canyon with some friends for a little dutch oven dinner (mmmmm! thanks, Julie!) and fun. Our friends brought up a couple of motorcycles, too, which was a bonus. Anyways, the campsite was perfect--right by a little stream, with tons of huge rocks and trees and trails and "secret spots" ideal for playing Dinosaur. Except for the broken glass everywhere. If anyone's in the market for some beer bottle glass shards to melt down for your glass sculpting or handmade stained glass (c'mon, I know this applies to about 80% of you reading this), this place is a pristine collecting ground...I actually don't think any of the kids got any glass slivers for the entire time we were up there, which is a small miracle based upon the fact that the glass was like ground cover around the site. Grrr. Makes me mad.

Anyways, it was a fabulous time. All the kids got deliciously filthy. In fact, when it was time to go, we just grabbed two who looked about like Carson and Layla's size and brought them home. We weren't sure we even had the right kids until they'd soaked in the tub for about an hour...phew. Lucky guess.

I shouldn't be writing this...

I'm probably jinxing myself as I do so, but I just have to say: Sometimes, especially lately, I feel so content with life that I just want to burst. My kids are cracking me up these days--I LOVE the stage that they're in (heh...most of the time...), my husband rules, our house doesn't have termites and hasn't flooded recently, we're letting the last of the zucchini act as fertilizer to our garden (meaning we don't have to eat it!!!), a toenail I thought might be ingrown has shown amazing progress and shouldn't give me any trouble in my race next week, the temps are into the cool 40s/50s at night, and popcorn is a fairly healthy snack. Seriously, how great can life be?

Pooking True Dah Fie-est

That's Carson & Layla's latest self-creation of a game. (To those of you who may be less than well-versed in child chatter, the game is actually called "Spooking through the Forest.") Last night, I heard such loud and continuous laughter from Paul and the kids downstairs - I had to hurry so I could play, too!

Game Setup: Turn off all lights downstairs.

Game Rules: Spookily tiptoe (you know, the kind where you overexaggerate and bring both hands up to shoulder height to show just how tiptoe-esque you can be) around until you run into someone, then either (a) shriek and run away, or (b) stand your ground and roar like a dinosaur until THEY run away. [Note: Option B is a new installment, Dinosaur Park-inspired, that has not been available in past game models.]

Game End: There is never a winner, so this game has the potential to go on waaaaaay past bedtime. Great fun for those looking for a chance to do some old-fashioned romping.

Haircut Blunder

Bad haircut experience today. As you can see. In my defense, however, the little munchkin would NOT hold still. The back is totally askew; I'm pretty sure one side is at least a half-inch longer than the other now. And the bangs...what's left of them... Oh, sadness.

But she's still smiling. And, to this mother-turned-barber-turned-guilty-mother-who-might-not-ever-touch-scissors-again, she's as adorable as ever.

Ode to My Three-Year-Old Who Dresses Himself with a Disturbing Amount of Confidence

A new day has come

And this new day is fine.

You want to look fab

Playing in the sunshine.

Throw open your closet,

Pick a shirt out with care.

Hawaiian print? Awesome.

That's the first thing you'll wear.

You don't want to look sloppy,

Need to dress it up right.

Ah, perfect: Easter's sweater,

Best of all, it's a bit tight.

No need to be stuffy--

Let 'em know you're alive.

B-ball shorts, nothin' better

To send out the "I'm hip" vibe.

Don't forget some brown church socks

'Neath those sweet light-up pumps.

"C'mon, mom, let's get started--

Watch me do some triple-jumps!"

Who cares if it matches,

No matter the hue,

Because you know, inside,

"I look good, yes I do!"

Early to bed...

Last night Paul left to go camping/fishing with some friends (he took the day off work today and will be back later tonight). We are rarely apart for more than a work-day's length, and I missed him fiercely by about 7:00 p.m. (more because I knew I wouldn't see him for more than a day than the fact that he'd been gone for just 2 hours), but I decided to capitalize on the time alone after the kids went to bed. So I made all sorts of great plans for a one-woman all-night party, the main ingredients being treats, drinks, my book, movies/TV shows that I rarely get to watch (because they're on too late for our regular bedtime), and the whole bed to myself.

Heh. I woke up at 2:57 this morning with a pack of Hershey's kisses still within arm's reach, my book fallen open to a page where the binding was a little loose, and the lamp still burning bright. (I can't remember exactly, but don't think I even made it past 9:30.) I fumbled to turn off the lamp, staggered into the bathroom to brush my teeth in the dark, and climbed back into bed about 1 minute later. So much for my big night-owl plans, but I feel great this morning!

The Great Race

Happy Labor Day, everybody. I labored with many of Paul's family members this morning (Paul met me at the finish line with the kids, who were a little rumpled and grumpy from being yoinked out of bed a little early) in running the Wellsville 5k "Fun Run" (at which we got sweet t-shirts and bags...and if you ever run into Jordan, you should ask him if he got a t-shirt and bag, too...funny story), followed by a some breakfast, followed by a candy-laden parade.

It was a little like Christmas, in that there was much loot to be had, but it took Carson a while to "get" what was going on (you mean you WANT me to run out in the road while vehicles are driving by and try to snatch the candy up off the road?!?! and I won't get in trouble?!?!! this is unprecedented!!!!), but he became a candy collector All-Star for a little while, until he arbitrarily decided that his backpack had enough candy.

C'mon, kid, at least go run out there and get some candy for meeeeee. Let's hope this insanity works its way out of his system before Halloween, or I'll have to go BUY my treats to last until Thanksgiving. Heaven forbid.

p.s. Why do people take pictures at the END of a race? Not sure. Forgive my sweaty showerlessness. Dah well.

Dinosaur Park

So, we took the kids to the Dinosaur Park in Ogden on Friday. Paul originally had taken the day off to give me a day all to myself (and, yes, his Husband of the Year plaque is in the mail), which I thoroughly enjoyed...until about 10:30 a.m. when I started to get lonely and a little bored. Highlights of the Dinosaur Park:

1. When you walk into the first room, there's a little scene set up with these robotic-type dinos, one's a t-rex, the other a triceratops defending its two babies. Their jaws would clank open and shut, and occasionally the speakers would coincide with a "roar" or some ferocious sound. In my darling yet impressionable children's minds, these dinosaurs were living-breathing-real, and this scene was verging upon horrific. Completely disregarding our quiet and soothing explanations that the dinosaurs were pretend/robots/statues/play-doh/whatever else we could come up with, Carson & Layla scrambled up into our arms as fast as lightning, clawing at us with all four arms and legs to "get away," screaming and hiding their faces at every metallic roar. It was hilarious. What can I say, we're mean parents, and we were fully laughing at them in their moment(s) of fright. (Layla got over it a little sooner than Carson...) I guess we'll have to re-think our FHE idea of watching "Jurassic Park" this week.

2. I took a picture of Paul and the kids on this gazebo thing that overlooked a pond and a bunch of dinosaurs. Only after the picture was taken did I see a MASSIVE spider hanging on its web about, oh, 5 inches from Paul's head...it was by far the most enormous-seeming thing at the park. Sick.

3. We forgot the stroller at home, which was a near-fatal mistake. Layla wanted to "wot wot" (walk walk) in the beginning, but with a lot of pathways and an overlapping naptime, she soon became weary. But she hates being carried when she thinks she can walk, so we were stuck between a rock and a hard place (the rock being her stubbornness, the hard place being my abs) (hah hah) for a little while there at the end.

4. Carson informed us that he needed to use the potty, which sent him and Paul racing across jurassic terrain to find the nearest restroom. Victory.

5. Um, that's all I can really remember. It was a fun time.