On the twelfth day of Christmas, my new life gave to me....
12 Unpacked boxes
11 Unslept hours
10 Cough drops gone
9 Gifts unpurchased
8 Vacations planned
7 New employees
6 Pills to swallow
5 PEEEE STICKS!!!
4 Birthdays down
3 Doctors visits
2 Infected eyes
and
1 Job I'm not sure I can do
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Pumpkins, Cowboys, and Way Too Many Pictures
Somehow I found it in me to get out and make some family memories. We enjoyed visiting the pumpkin patch with the cousins and the zoo with the uncle. And to top it off, we did some trick-or-treating.
DISCLAIMER: I understand there is an extraordinarily large amount of pictures here. However, if you saw the mountain I went through, you would understand the miracle in coming up with the few that I did.
Schedules are always fun to coordinate. So Hunter patiently waited for the cousins.
He then decided to wait on the tractor instead. It became something else to be done with it when the cousins arrived.
I was roared at many times through the steering wheel. Each time was like the first.
It has become tradition to take a picture at the scarecrow every year to see how we've grown. If you think I know where the disc is that houses last years picture, you would be wrong.
Hunter's attempt to determine the source of the bumpy thingies.
Joshua is losing a lung here, but I thought it was way too cute of Hunter to pass by.
Joshua is always so proper when posing for the picture and I am lucky to get Hunter in the shot.
At least this year I was able to see him at all.
Donning his costume for the first time for the Boo at the Zoo. If you can't lip read, the would be CHEESE!!
Much better without any cheese.
The baby elephant was the highlight. She ran around, rolled in the dirt, fell over, stuck out her ears, and even pestered her mom. Apparently humans don't have the monopoly on that.
That face.
As is the case with most outings, Hunter usually ends up in the same place.
Not everyone is made for trick-or-treating. At the first house, the horse was already dragging.
After weeks of practicing how and when to say the three magic words, Hunter replaced it at every door with, 'put it in there'. My heart soars with pride.
He even started taking more than he was offered. Luckily the cowpoke was so cute, nobody refused him.
DISCLAIMER: I understand there is an extraordinarily large amount of pictures here. However, if you saw the mountain I went through, you would understand the miracle in coming up with the few that I did.
Schedules are always fun to coordinate. So Hunter patiently waited for the cousins.
He then decided to wait on the tractor instead. It became something else to be done with it when the cousins arrived.
I was roared at many times through the steering wheel. Each time was like the first.
It has become tradition to take a picture at the scarecrow every year to see how we've grown. If you think I know where the disc is that houses last years picture, you would be wrong.
Hunter's attempt to determine the source of the bumpy thingies.
Joshua is losing a lung here, but I thought it was way too cute of Hunter to pass by.
Joshua is always so proper when posing for the picture and I am lucky to get Hunter in the shot.
At least this year I was able to see him at all.
Donning his costume for the first time for the Boo at the Zoo. If you can't lip read, the would be CHEESE!!
Much better without any cheese. 
The baby elephant was the highlight. She ran around, rolled in the dirt, fell over, stuck out her ears, and even pestered her mom. Apparently humans don't have the monopoly on that.
That face.
As is the case with most outings, Hunter usually ends up in the same place.
And a descent family picture to boot. Well, with some cheese on top.
Not everyone is made for trick-or-treating. At the first house, the horse was already dragging.
After weeks of practicing how and when to say the three magic words, Hunter replaced it at every door with, 'put it in there'. My heart soars with pride.
He even started taking more than he was offered. Luckily the cowpoke was so cute, nobody refused him.We all had lots of fun and I was hearing all about the pumpkins until the birthday rolled around. Now I hear about 'orange train cake, mommy'. That is another post yet to come. I am sure with many more pictures.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Update
So I thought I would give my hairdryer another shot today. After all, I had some major bed head that needed serious smoothing out. And boy did it ever! It made up for lost time by coughing up air that could only be equated to lava. It was so hot, I think I burned off most of my hair, an ear, and some bristles from my round brush.
I just can't be satisfied.
I just can't be satisfied.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
My Hairdryer Blows...only cold air.
My track record with hairdryers over the last five years has not been stellar. I blame this solely on Scott. Before I met him, I had the same hairdryer for about six years. Since we have been married, I have now been through three. He takes responsibility for this with some skepticism.
Hairdryer #1
This one made me afraid for my life. With no warning or complaints from the appliance, I was shocked to have sparks flying right at my face. Maybe this was the dryers way of warning me to move it away from my flammable hair because the sparks were directly followed by a flame. Yes, a FLAME. It shot out at me and was about three to four inches long. My reflex was to drop the unit on the ground. However, it's funny how quickly your mind reacts in those moments. I thought better of it, not wanting my bathroom rug to catch on fire. So instead I kept the flaming object in my flammable hand while I unplugged it. This is not the first time I have used my supple hand to keep fiery objects from setting other flammable things aflame. While at Bath and Body Works, a incense burner caught fire. A customer calmly told me, your wall is on fire. Uh, ok. I went towards the glow while my other employee went towards the extinguisher. The burner was almost completely engulfed and I was concerned the shelving was about to go. Once again, my mind went quickly. I heal, the building does not. Not to mention the hundreds of people in the mall that were in danger. I then very dumbly picked it up by the plate it was on and set it in the tile floor. After it was over I noticed how scorched the wall and shelving was. In the end, I think I made the right decision. But I digress.
Hairdryer #2
This one I purchased in full wet head fashion about twenty minutes after the flame incident. I was proud because it was pink. Pink for breast cancer. My near death experience was not in vain, a few more dollars of research went forth. This one I had for about six months when for no reason it went on hiatus and has yet to return. The button moved, but nothing happened. I checked the outlet, made sure the little red button in the other bathroom was reset. It never again turned on. It was a pretty pink dryer, but that's about all it had going for it.
Hairdryer #3
This one was a chrome model, nice and shiny. It felt very professional. It has been in my possession for about four months. A couple months in it started making a rattling noise. But we were already past the point of no returns, so I just dealt with it. Then a few weeks ago, the temperature button didn't want to go all the way up to hot anymore, but I could still get it to blow hot air. And I just dealt with it. But alas, today was no go. It refused to expel anything more than room temperature air. This caused my normal ten minute drying session to stretch to forty five minutes. I know! The result is a very bad hair day. Flat, limp, stuck to my face hair day. I cannot deal with that.
So in the end, I will be purchasing a new model. No more Revlon, Hot Tools, or Conair. I am not sure what brands are left to choose from. Whatever I end up with, I won't expect it to run longer than two months.
Hairdryer #1
This one made me afraid for my life. With no warning or complaints from the appliance, I was shocked to have sparks flying right at my face. Maybe this was the dryers way of warning me to move it away from my flammable hair because the sparks were directly followed by a flame. Yes, a FLAME. It shot out at me and was about three to four inches long. My reflex was to drop the unit on the ground. However, it's funny how quickly your mind reacts in those moments. I thought better of it, not wanting my bathroom rug to catch on fire. So instead I kept the flaming object in my flammable hand while I unplugged it. This is not the first time I have used my supple hand to keep fiery objects from setting other flammable things aflame. While at Bath and Body Works, a incense burner caught fire. A customer calmly told me, your wall is on fire. Uh, ok. I went towards the glow while my other employee went towards the extinguisher. The burner was almost completely engulfed and I was concerned the shelving was about to go. Once again, my mind went quickly. I heal, the building does not. Not to mention the hundreds of people in the mall that were in danger. I then very dumbly picked it up by the plate it was on and set it in the tile floor. After it was over I noticed how scorched the wall and shelving was. In the end, I think I made the right decision. But I digress.
Hairdryer #2
This one I purchased in full wet head fashion about twenty minutes after the flame incident. I was proud because it was pink. Pink for breast cancer. My near death experience was not in vain, a few more dollars of research went forth. This one I had for about six months when for no reason it went on hiatus and has yet to return. The button moved, but nothing happened. I checked the outlet, made sure the little red button in the other bathroom was reset. It never again turned on. It was a pretty pink dryer, but that's about all it had going for it.
Hairdryer #3
This one was a chrome model, nice and shiny. It felt very professional. It has been in my possession for about four months. A couple months in it started making a rattling noise. But we were already past the point of no returns, so I just dealt with it. Then a few weeks ago, the temperature button didn't want to go all the way up to hot anymore, but I could still get it to blow hot air. And I just dealt with it. But alas, today was no go. It refused to expel anything more than room temperature air. This caused my normal ten minute drying session to stretch to forty five minutes. I know! The result is a very bad hair day. Flat, limp, stuck to my face hair day. I cannot deal with that.
So in the end, I will be purchasing a new model. No more Revlon, Hot Tools, or Conair. I am not sure what brands are left to choose from. Whatever I end up with, I won't expect it to run longer than two months.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
I Come First
Why is it that in order to be labeled a good mom, you must be absolutely miserable without your children? I mean, I consider myself to be a perfectly good, loving mom and I feel part of what puts me into that category is that I know when I need time for myself. I can function just fine on my own, I am not handicapped without him.
Scott and I had never been on a trip by ourselves. Never. Even our honeymoon was a joint project. Hunter is now almost three and I had never been away from him for more than about six hours. And even then he was with Scott. I mean, does anyone dispute that I may need a little break?
So awhile ago, we decided to make it happen, and we ran away for a weekend. Best decision we have ever made. Well in hind sight, maybe the worst considering we could have really used the money when Scott lost his job, but that's another blog. We had so much fun, although a little strange not having to think about a schedule or hauling an extra thirty pounds in and out of the car.
Now, I am a blubberer. (yes that's a word) I cry all the time, it's a talent. So I was slightly concerned about walking away from the bubba, and overnight... don don don. Just the other night when I was headed out the door for work, I was a complete mess. And that was only for four hours! But in the end, I did very well, and I am still quite proud of myself. I didn't cry, I didn't look back. I thought about him a lot. Mostly in the context of not knowing what to do with myself. Like I forgot my phone or purse.
I came home feeling rejuvenated and fulfilled. But more importantly, why am I not doing this more often? So why is it that when people ask me how my trip was, they are completely dumbfounded? 'What? You didn't cry? You weren't longing to come home? I just couldn't do that, I am just too attached to my kids. I'd feel like I was cheating them.' So I am left feeling judged and confused. Is the definition of a good mom to put your children first and completely ignore your own needs?
I feel a good mom has the good sense to recognize when her stores are a little low and need some refilling. I can do way more for my son when I am running at 100% rather than 32% because I feel I am being selfish due to my own needs. I feel I am strongly bonded with my son, a connection I cherish. But I am not defined by motherhood. It is something I am and do and wouldn't give up for the world. I am defined by me, Nic, the light inside of me. I am important.
There have been countless studies done proving that when marriages are not attended to or when parents are stretched too thin that the children suffer. But when we take time for ourselves and put our children, dare I say, second we all flourish. I will never understand being miserable and suffering in order to prove how loving we are or how hard we work.
Scott and I had never been on a trip by ourselves. Never. Even our honeymoon was a joint project. Hunter is now almost three and I had never been away from him for more than about six hours. And even then he was with Scott. I mean, does anyone dispute that I may need a little break?
So awhile ago, we decided to make it happen, and we ran away for a weekend. Best decision we have ever made. Well in hind sight, maybe the worst considering we could have really used the money when Scott lost his job, but that's another blog. We had so much fun, although a little strange not having to think about a schedule or hauling an extra thirty pounds in and out of the car.
Now, I am a blubberer. (yes that's a word) I cry all the time, it's a talent. So I was slightly concerned about walking away from the bubba, and overnight... don don don. Just the other night when I was headed out the door for work, I was a complete mess. And that was only for four hours! But in the end, I did very well, and I am still quite proud of myself. I didn't cry, I didn't look back. I thought about him a lot. Mostly in the context of not knowing what to do with myself. Like I forgot my phone or purse.
I came home feeling rejuvenated and fulfilled. But more importantly, why am I not doing this more often? So why is it that when people ask me how my trip was, they are completely dumbfounded? 'What? You didn't cry? You weren't longing to come home? I just couldn't do that, I am just too attached to my kids. I'd feel like I was cheating them.' So I am left feeling judged and confused. Is the definition of a good mom to put your children first and completely ignore your own needs?
I feel a good mom has the good sense to recognize when her stores are a little low and need some refilling. I can do way more for my son when I am running at 100% rather than 32% because I feel I am being selfish due to my own needs. I feel I am strongly bonded with my son, a connection I cherish. But I am not defined by motherhood. It is something I am and do and wouldn't give up for the world. I am defined by me, Nic, the light inside of me. I am important.
There have been countless studies done proving that when marriages are not attended to or when parents are stretched too thin that the children suffer. But when we take time for ourselves and put our children, dare I say, second we all flourish. I will never understand being miserable and suffering in order to prove how loving we are or how hard we work.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Fireman Hunter
A little something to hold you over until I can find the time and energy to do something about the blogs spinning around in my head.Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Hunter-ese
Most often only a mother can understand the individual dialect of their offspring. Children give enthralling ramblings with surrounding ears listening intently, directly followed by all eyes going straight to the mom for translation. Funny enough, I often look to others for translation of my own child and usually get a response. Apparently I missed class the day we mommies are installed with the urim and thummim. However I have been able to decode a few.
Noonl: noodle
Cheesy noonl: mac and cheese
Cheesy toast: grilled cheese
Rikrish: licorice
Poon: spoon
Kieboy: cowboy
Nining: Lightning McQueen
Wuie: Woody
Mooie: movie
Bumpfa: grandpa
Copfer: helicopter
Hairpain: airplane
Her it: hear it
Feener eener: finger in there
Puter: computer
Heepo: Robin Hood
Pink: yogurt or taffy
Orange: taffy or cheese or juice
Perper: purple (which is used to describe things that are brown)
Green: Scott's yellow Packers hat
Maid: lemonade
Pickles: mixed vegetables
Mote: remote (and yes, he knows which mote goes to which device)
Woowoo: sirens
Wears: underwear
Ambence: ambulance
Oh no: his pediatrician (sorry Dr. Jopling)
Te: tv
Booboos: boobs
Goosey: Goofey
Meeka: Uniqua (from the Backyardigians)
Yegs: legs
Phome: phone
Ah man: amen
Pear: prayer
Tinkle: Twinkle Twinkle Little Star
Bitsy: Itsy Bitsy Spider
Happy Know It: If You're Happy and You Know It
Abw: Abc's
Bapper: diaper
Ite: light
Kif it: ouch
Froggy hug: family hug
The unfortunate part is that I now speak his language. (As if I didn't have a hard enough time speaking English as it is.) I have embarrassed myself many times by using his words with outsiders. If at any time in future readings of my blogs you are unable to discern my language, please refer to this list.
Noonl: noodle
Cheesy noonl: mac and cheese
Cheesy toast: grilled cheese
Rikrish: licorice
Poon: spoon
Kieboy: cowboy
Nining: Lightning McQueen
Wuie: Woody
Mooie: movie
Bumpfa: grandpa
Copfer: helicopter
Hairpain: airplane
Her it: hear it
Feener eener: finger in there
Puter: computer
Heepo: Robin Hood
Pink: yogurt or taffy
Orange: taffy or cheese or juice
Perper: purple (which is used to describe things that are brown)
Green: Scott's yellow Packers hat
Maid: lemonade
Pickles: mixed vegetables
Mote: remote (and yes, he knows which mote goes to which device)
Woowoo: sirens
Wears: underwear
Ambence: ambulance
Oh no: his pediatrician (sorry Dr. Jopling)
Te: tv
Booboos: boobs
Goosey: Goofey
Meeka: Uniqua (from the Backyardigians)
Yegs: legs
Phome: phone
Ah man: amen
Pear: prayer
Tinkle: Twinkle Twinkle Little Star
Bitsy: Itsy Bitsy Spider
Happy Know It: If You're Happy and You Know It
Abw: Abc's
Bapper: diaper
Ite: light
Kif it: ouch
Froggy hug: family hug
The unfortunate part is that I now speak his language. (As if I didn't have a hard enough time speaking English as it is.) I have embarrassed myself many times by using his words with outsiders. If at any time in future readings of my blogs you are unable to discern my language, please refer to this list.
Friday, September 11, 2009
I Will Remember
Just yesterday, I had a conversation that made me choke. For weeks now, we've all been thinking of the upcoming anniversary of our saddest and I think one of our proudest days in our nation's history. We all remember where we were during those first moments of the attack on our people.
I had just arrived at school, a senior, when a good friend told me of what she saw on the television. I didn't believe her. I said it was probably a prank. Fortunately, I had first period seminary. There was no better place to be. We had a spiritual guide to help us through the moments we watched the towers fall. We were angered. We tried to hide. We cried. We prayed. We mourned. Since then those minutes that seemed like an eternity have been carefully locked up tight in my heart. Each one of us has our own personal experience and I hold mine very close to me where no one can reach it.
So when I heard these words, I was horrified, stunned. 'I'm tired of hearing about it. It just needs to be in our history books for our kids to learn about like Pearl Harbor. I wish it would just go away. It's over.'
Over? Really? Let's ask those who are personally affected by this tragedy, whether through survival or lost loved ones. Who are constantly reminded by the absence in their hearts, homes, beds. Or for that matter, anyone who feels a morsel of nationalism or are currently serving to keep us safe, giving their own lives so I might keep mine. Or even further, those throughout the world who feel compassion for all those around them.
Over? Have we come to a point where the amount of love and heartache we feel is determined by time? Is the quota filled?
I'm not tired of hearing about it. Sure there are those who wish to sensationalize. Intentionally tugging at our heart strings for personal gain. But I will never tire of hearing how our country pulled together, united. That day was a wake up call, that our land is not immune from the tyranny of the world. And in the face of that, we can stand as one and prove what we are capable of. I will not tire of hearing stories of inspiration. How people have found hope on the other side and became stronger and closer together because of it.
So maybe there will always be those who want to ignore the perils of our world, to forget and discard them. I hope there will always be a few of us that will hold the sacredness of this day and others like it with the highest respect.
To all of us who were forever changed by these events, I will remember.
I had just arrived at school, a senior, when a good friend told me of what she saw on the television. I didn't believe her. I said it was probably a prank. Fortunately, I had first period seminary. There was no better place to be. We had a spiritual guide to help us through the moments we watched the towers fall. We were angered. We tried to hide. We cried. We prayed. We mourned. Since then those minutes that seemed like an eternity have been carefully locked up tight in my heart. Each one of us has our own personal experience and I hold mine very close to me where no one can reach it.
So when I heard these words, I was horrified, stunned. 'I'm tired of hearing about it. It just needs to be in our history books for our kids to learn about like Pearl Harbor. I wish it would just go away. It's over.'
Over? Really? Let's ask those who are personally affected by this tragedy, whether through survival or lost loved ones. Who are constantly reminded by the absence in their hearts, homes, beds. Or for that matter, anyone who feels a morsel of nationalism or are currently serving to keep us safe, giving their own lives so I might keep mine. Or even further, those throughout the world who feel compassion for all those around them.
Over? Have we come to a point where the amount of love and heartache we feel is determined by time? Is the quota filled?
I'm not tired of hearing about it. Sure there are those who wish to sensationalize. Intentionally tugging at our heart strings for personal gain. But I will never tire of hearing how our country pulled together, united. That day was a wake up call, that our land is not immune from the tyranny of the world. And in the face of that, we can stand as one and prove what we are capable of. I will not tire of hearing stories of inspiration. How people have found hope on the other side and became stronger and closer together because of it.
So maybe there will always be those who want to ignore the perils of our world, to forget and discard them. I hope there will always be a few of us that will hold the sacredness of this day and others like it with the highest respect.
To all of us who were forever changed by these events, I will remember.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Brown Paper Packages Tied Up with String
This weekend was filled with many of my favorite things both old and new. Here are just a few:
Watching Hunter run with all limbs flailing to his Daddy down the aisle of Target.
Free honey butter and cinnamon scones from Sconecutters and soft drinks from Sonic, because the Bees are just that good.
Hearing from a special friend.
Hunter waking me up by kissing my foot hanging off the edge of the bed.
Scott surprising me by coming home early from work because he is so amazing.
When putting Hunter down, I always say 'Mommy loves you with all my heart.' This time I was stopped on my way to the door by him saying, 'Mommy, all Bubba heart.'
Bubba being concerned that he wiped snot on my shirt and taking great care to clean it off.
Watching Hunter learn to walk "sneaky" like.
Two run homers in the bottom of the ninth with two outs and two strikes.
Falling asleep on Scott's shoulder.
When Scott was putting Hunter in the car, he tells Daddy, 'Handsome Daddy'.
Hunter realizing he can turn his whole body into a tunnel.
When underdogs come through.
The Bubba being so brave to throw Harley his toy and being so proud of himself, but the dog being completely unimpressed.
Having Hunter straddle me while trying to type this and completely blocking the screen and making me almost lose my honey butter and cinnamon scone.
The booboo on Hunter's knee needing to be kissed 237 times by 49 different people.
Having raisins constantly stuck to the bottom of my feet. (I'll take that any day over other deposits.)
Remembering how quickly you can run through Walmart without an almost three year old.
Staying up way too late with a bowl of popcorn and my Scotters.
I guess that will do for now, we may have future additions.
Watching Hunter run with all limbs flailing to his Daddy down the aisle of Target.
Free honey butter and cinnamon scones from Sconecutters and soft drinks from Sonic, because the Bees are just that good.
Hearing from a special friend.
Hunter waking me up by kissing my foot hanging off the edge of the bed.
Scott surprising me by coming home early from work because he is so amazing.
When putting Hunter down, I always say 'Mommy loves you with all my heart.' This time I was stopped on my way to the door by him saying, 'Mommy, all Bubba heart.'
Bubba being concerned that he wiped snot on my shirt and taking great care to clean it off.
Watching Hunter learn to walk "sneaky" like.
Two run homers in the bottom of the ninth with two outs and two strikes.
Falling asleep on Scott's shoulder.
When Scott was putting Hunter in the car, he tells Daddy, 'Handsome Daddy'.
Hunter realizing he can turn his whole body into a tunnel.
When underdogs come through.
The Bubba being so brave to throw Harley his toy and being so proud of himself, but the dog being completely unimpressed.
Having Hunter straddle me while trying to type this and completely blocking the screen and making me almost lose my honey butter and cinnamon scone.
The booboo on Hunter's knee needing to be kissed 237 times by 49 different people.
Having raisins constantly stuck to the bottom of my feet. (I'll take that any day over other deposits.)
Remembering how quickly you can run through Walmart without an almost three year old.
Staying up way too late with a bowl of popcorn and my Scotters.
I guess that will do for now, we may have future additions.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Remembering
Recently our Grandma Barrett put together a book of memories. It contains the funnest stories, most of which I had never heard. I've really enjoyed seeing her unique sense of humor through her writing, but also learning about Grandpa Barrett. Unfortunately, by the time I came to know and love him, there was little ability and time for me to understand how truly great a man he is. I often think the same of Scott and my Grandpa Rogers. Luckily through much effort put into documentation of their lives, we can begin to connect with them.
I feel it is my responsibility to do so. Much of my genealogy has already been done. Short of traveling to do hands on research, there is minimal work I can do. I am not equipped to do this at my present point in life. However I feel very often we overlook the other aspects of genealogy. Names and dates are the basics, but much more lies in their stories of inspiration and guidance. I must do my best to encourage and help those before me to compile these moments as well as my own so they may live on.
This was continually brought to my remembrance through our travels this week. A simple trip to Hill Air force Base came to mean so much more to me. For Hunter it was a chance to see 'big copfters' and 'big airpain'. As he ran around with more excitement than I've ever seen, I was abundantly reminded of how much I wanted to teach him of our family history. Specifically how his Grandpas served for him.
Hope you can see us down there. I felt a little put in my place.
Although daunting to me, he didn't miss a beat. I don't think he was intimidated at all.
This is a B-17. Grandpa Barrett flew 35 missions in one of these. He served as top turret gunner and engineer. He was so blessed because he was tall enough to reach from a standing position.
I don't think both feet touched the ground most of the day.
Bubba was very proud of his bravery.
The results of our day couldn't look more fulfilling.
My sweetest view of the entire day.
I feel it is my responsibility to do so. Much of my genealogy has already been done. Short of traveling to do hands on research, there is minimal work I can do. I am not equipped to do this at my present point in life. However I feel very often we overlook the other aspects of genealogy. Names and dates are the basics, but much more lies in their stories of inspiration and guidance. I must do my best to encourage and help those before me to compile these moments as well as my own so they may live on.
This was continually brought to my remembrance through our travels this week. A simple trip to Hill Air force Base came to mean so much more to me. For Hunter it was a chance to see 'big copfters' and 'big airpain'. As he ran around with more excitement than I've ever seen, I was abundantly reminded of how much I wanted to teach him of our family history. Specifically how his Grandpas served for him.
Hope you can see us down there. I felt a little put in my place.
Although daunting to me, he didn't miss a beat. I don't think he was intimidated at all.
This is a B-17. Grandpa Barrett flew 35 missions in one of these. He served as top turret gunner and engineer. He was so blessed because he was tall enough to reach from a standing position.As our outing continued, I realized simply running through a fountain was adding a page to our own genealogy. By connecting as a family, we are cementing our connection to all our loved ones.
I don't think both feet touched the ground most of the day.
Bubba was very proud of his bravery.
The results of our day couldn't look more fulfilling.
My sweetest view of the entire day. I couldn't think of a better way to spend my anniversary than to celebrate our family.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Congratulations to Me
It is no secret that I am completely computer illiterate, not to mention in many other things. It is still a wonder to me that I even managed to set up a blog. I feel I am extending myself beyond my personal parameters to accomplish such a goal. So it may be moot to point out that I have had some difficulty in navigating around my account and dashboard. (Did you see that? I used blogger lingo. I promised Scott I wouldn't do that. Shh, don't tell.) So today I am proud to announce that I learned to do something new. I was able to post a permanent picture of my son. Can you believe it? I know. Granted it took me two weeks to figure it out.... and accidentally deleted something else I didn't mean to in the process. But who cares? I say, Yeah!!
So I hope you all enjoy my adorable Bubba. He was truly worth the wait.
So I hope you all enjoy my adorable Bubba. He was truly worth the wait.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Phantom of the Firepit
In hopes of having a get away, we made plans to go camping this past weekend. Not realizing that the entire state of Utah was looking for one last breath of summer before heading back to school, I assumed that we could easily get a campground. My naivety on the process of family vacations soon became evident. So lesson learned, reserve campground today for sometime next spring.
In an effort to save the weekend and lets face it, fake it, we headed up the canyon with some fam-iends. Looking back, it was probably best we didn't make it camping. We were very ill prepared. We were missing the following: matches, tongs, and forks. But mind you, we did remember the most important thing, toilet paper. There is no faking that. We (and by we, I mean Dave) attempted to use some matches floating in the stream that had had a nice sunbath, but with no success. We eventually bummed some off our neighboring fakers and soon the fire was crackling. We also learned that marshmallow roasters make do for tongs when moving hobo dinners, but only about five feet. And when eating hobo dinners, why not make like a hobo and use your fingers.
Throughout our laughter and disruption of others, something was roaming about with quiet glee. Phantom Hunter was lurking around doing what every boy should be able to do. His favorite spot was a large pile of ash. The result could never be recreated.
My favorite part has to be catching him in mid swipe. I guess when you can't grow whiskers, painting them on will do. He just doesn't want to listen when I tell him not to grow up too fast.
After much disappointment in not sleeping under the stars, I took away from our adventure that you don't have to be organized to make the best memories.
In an effort to save the weekend and lets face it, fake it, we headed up the canyon with some fam-iends. Looking back, it was probably best we didn't make it camping. We were very ill prepared. We were missing the following: matches, tongs, and forks. But mind you, we did remember the most important thing, toilet paper. There is no faking that. We (and by we, I mean Dave) attempted to use some matches floating in the stream that had had a nice sunbath, but with no success. We eventually bummed some off our neighboring fakers and soon the fire was crackling. We also learned that marshmallow roasters make do for tongs when moving hobo dinners, but only about five feet. And when eating hobo dinners, why not make like a hobo and use your fingers.
Throughout our laughter and disruption of others, something was roaming about with quiet glee. Phantom Hunter was lurking around doing what every boy should be able to do. His favorite spot was a large pile of ash. The result could never be recreated.
My favorite part has to be catching him in mid swipe. I guess when you can't grow whiskers, painting them on will do. He just doesn't want to listen when I tell him not to grow up too fast.
After much disappointment in not sleeping under the stars, I took away from our adventure that you don't have to be organized to make the best memories.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
God Smiles
Like most people, I too have been chewed up and spit out by the world more times than I can count. It seems lately that I have had more than my fair share of gnashing. And like any other warm blooded human, I go through all the emotions that accompany it. Anger, sadness, frustration, denial, scapegoating, etc. When I finally reach the bottom of my sorry pit, something always seems to happen. God smiles on me. I mean it. He really does. I've seen it with my very own eyes many times. For those of you who scoff, I give you this:
See? What did I tell you? I am sure many of you also see God's smile in your own way, but I am somewhat partial to this version.
This world has a funny way of discarding us. Forgetting us faster than we set foot into it. It continuously tells us that we are not smart enough, helpful enough, rich enough, thin enough, and so on. But I stand today to say that I am enough.
In no way am I claiming that this is the only reaction the Lord has to give me. There are many times that due to my perfectly imperfect nature, I also receive many others. One of my favorites is this:
I am ok with this. It also serves its purpose. It's just enough to help me realize that what I am doing is not greatly appreciated and I can quickly adjust. In the end, it doesn't take much for God to once again smile on me.
I would love to know the many ways in which God also smiles on you. Whether another loving child, a beautiful mountain view, or the sound of a special song. Whatever it may be, please share by leaving a comment. I could always use it to help God smile through me.
See? What did I tell you? I am sure many of you also see God's smile in your own way, but I am somewhat partial to this version.
This world has a funny way of discarding us. Forgetting us faster than we set foot into it. It continuously tells us that we are not smart enough, helpful enough, rich enough, thin enough, and so on. But I stand today to say that I am enough.
In no way am I claiming that this is the only reaction the Lord has to give me. There are many times that due to my perfectly imperfect nature, I also receive many others. One of my favorites is this:
I am ok with this. It also serves its purpose. It's just enough to help me realize that what I am doing is not greatly appreciated and I can quickly adjust. In the end, it doesn't take much for God to once again smile on me.
I would love to know the many ways in which God also smiles on you. Whether another loving child, a beautiful mountain view, or the sound of a special song. Whatever it may be, please share by leaving a comment. I could always use it to help God smile through me.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Potty Mouth....
Usually when someone starts a new blog, their first post has some beautiful sentiment about how they are so excited and looking forward to sharing wonderful memories and anecdotes. I had thoughts of such things, but you never know when life is about to hit.
Anyone who has ever had, has, cared for, seen, or even heard a toddler, surely has stories they could regale you with for hours. If I may, I have one such tale today.
For some unknown reason, I had the bold idea to attempt to potty train my son, again. This has occurred many times over the last ten months. I have yet to learn my lesson so Hunter will surely continue to try and teach it to me. So there we went again, putting him in his 'wears' as he calls them and constantly asking if he needed to use the facilities. I even led him down the hall about every twenty minutes whether he thought he needed to or not. Maybe this is why he felt the need to punish me.
Whilst washing dishes, I noticed his hand down the back of his wears. I already knew the answer to my question. 'Bubba? Did you poop in your wears'?
We hurried down the hall to clean him up, all the while having yet another conversation about where such things belong and where they don't. I had no idea how poignant my discussion was. I was throwing the evidence in the washer when I heard, 'Mommy brush'. I asked, why? 'Teef dirty'. I looked and saw that there was something in his teeth. I thought it was bread from earlier and immediately went to retrieve it for him. (That's what moms do. Nose pickin, teeth pickin, booboo kissin, you know.) But what to my surprise? Not bread on my fingernail, you guessed it, poop. I melted.
Again, while brushing his teeth, we had the conversation about where such things go. (Yes I threw the toothbrush away.) While returning to my previous activities, I found yet another deposit. I located it with the best tool at my disposal, my bare foot.
Although this is not how I envisioned starting my blog, it has started in full Mommy fashion. I promise not all posts will be of such a nature, but I'm sure there will not be a shortage of them either. This is not the first time I've had poop in strange places. Maybe that will be another post for another day.
Thanks Chris, for the awesome title.
Anyone who has ever had, has, cared for, seen, or even heard a toddler, surely has stories they could regale you with for hours. If I may, I have one such tale today.
For some unknown reason, I had the bold idea to attempt to potty train my son, again. This has occurred many times over the last ten months. I have yet to learn my lesson so Hunter will surely continue to try and teach it to me. So there we went again, putting him in his 'wears' as he calls them and constantly asking if he needed to use the facilities. I even led him down the hall about every twenty minutes whether he thought he needed to or not. Maybe this is why he felt the need to punish me.
Whilst washing dishes, I noticed his hand down the back of his wears. I already knew the answer to my question. 'Bubba? Did you poop in your wears'?
We hurried down the hall to clean him up, all the while having yet another conversation about where such things belong and where they don't. I had no idea how poignant my discussion was. I was throwing the evidence in the washer when I heard, 'Mommy brush'. I asked, why? 'Teef dirty'. I looked and saw that there was something in his teeth. I thought it was bread from earlier and immediately went to retrieve it for him. (That's what moms do. Nose pickin, teeth pickin, booboo kissin, you know.) But what to my surprise? Not bread on my fingernail, you guessed it, poop. I melted.
Again, while brushing his teeth, we had the conversation about where such things go. (Yes I threw the toothbrush away.) While returning to my previous activities, I found yet another deposit. I located it with the best tool at my disposal, my bare foot.
Although this is not how I envisioned starting my blog, it has started in full Mommy fashion. I promise not all posts will be of such a nature, but I'm sure there will not be a shortage of them either. This is not the first time I've had poop in strange places. Maybe that will be another post for another day.
Thanks Chris, for the awesome title.
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