A New Addition

As sometimes is the case, something sort of major happened awhile ago and I've been avoiding writing about it.  But now, as something else (and related) has happened, that I do want to blog about about, I suppose it's time to catch up.

Our kitty Chase is no longer with us.

:(

It was probably a couple of months ago now I think.  After dinner and putting the children to bed he was meowing like nuts and scratching at the back door to get out.  Eventually, as it was still fairly early in the evening, Matt caved and we let him out.  Even though we really tried to keep him in, especially at night, that cat just always had a mind of his own.  He'd been wanting out more and more at night and as relentless as he could be, he got his way most of the time, even though we knew that his being outside around here wasn't the best idea.  So that evening we let him out and thought nothing much of it.  When we went to bed that night I honestly didn't give him a thought, but Matt told me later he'd seen him sitting in the side yard eyeing a small gap under the fence which is small enough for rabbits for sure, and probably small, determined cats, but not our dog.  

Somewhere in the middle of the night I heard Brutus flipping out barking.  He does that a lot though, when other animals come near our yard or other neighborhood dogs bark, but only rarely will he humor me and come in if I go out to shush him and bring him in the middle of the night, so I just rolled over and went back to sleep.  

In the morning there was no Chase.

We gave it some time, patiently waiting for him to come back, but he never did.

I searched the neighborhood again a few times but there was never any sign of him.

Once again, there really isn't any doubt about what became of him, Matt sees coyotes himself frequently when he runs in the morning.  

Stupid coyotes.

It was then about 3 weeks ago that I started thinking about getting a new cat.  I suffer from some sort of uncontrollable need to love furry creatures I guess, and I was starting to miss having a furry friend around who was actually interested in my attention.

Brutus, you see, is just.... not.

We took a trip to the pet store to look at some kitties from a shelter there and of course I fell in love. Matt did not.  And so I begged him and I pestered him and his feelings on the matter didn't change one bit.  Then I cried about it, in the midst of another argument actually, and he said "Fine."  

But by the then the cat I loved was already adopted.  And the other kitties were young so the shelter would only adopt them out in pairs.  I didn't want a pair.

I became pretty frustrated about it.

Then my friend Olivia randomly sent me a text message with a link to a dog shelter that had a Shiba Inu/ Golden Retriever mix.  The dog in question was sort of hilarious, looking pretty much like our Brutus wearing a Chewbacca suit or or something.  Laughing about it, I showed the post to Matt.  Much to my surprise he seemed interested. 

We had discussed finding a friend for Brutus for sometime, but particularly after he spent nearly a year in Ohio with my in-laws' Golden.  And since we were currently down to just a one pet family again, I guess Matt seemed to think the idea was okay again, so I submitted an application.

The original dog turned out to be a senior and the shelter felt she was not a good mix for out family dynamic with young kids and another (neurotic) dog.  But we scheduled an appointment for last Friday to go and see what other dogs they might have for us.

At our "playdate," Brutus, the children, Matt and I met with a few dogs.  We were all but decided on a Lab/Pointer mix but the shelter worker sensed my reservations about her size and the chance she might have some Pitt Bull in her and suggested we meet with just one more.

Brutus, up until that point had not been having a good time.  He growled and barked and snapped at the first two pups.  He also kept crawling under chairs, curling up in a donut, tucking his nose under his tail and trying to hide.  When we walked him with the other dogs he eased up a bit, but he just seemed uneasy.

And then the lady brought out this dog.

They were calling her "India" (even though in my opinion that might just be the WORST possible name for her) and she was listed as a 1-2 year old chocolate lab/cocker spaniel mix.  Personally, I don't see a bit of spaniel in her.... maybe some sort of retriever though, but then again what do I really know?  I suppose maybe he eyes look spaniel, but what does that even mean?  Who knows really....

All I did know is that Brutus immediately did much better with her.

He bared his teeth hesitantly at her a few times when she leaned in to smell him, but there was no barking or snapping from him at all.  We walked the two of them around the block and by the end he was walking along side her "happily" as if they were the best of friends.  

Ladies and gentleman, we had our dog.

From the moment I started filling out my application I reminded myself that we were looking for a companion for Brutus and that HIS opinion had to be the most important.  Or, well, at least as important as finding a dog what would be good with our children....

It was hard for me to forget about the other pup we'd considered, as she was so cute acting just like a puppy, chasing reflected beams of light off Matt's watch around on the sidewalk and letting her long tongue dangle madly out of the side of her mouth.

But Brutus clearly prefered Miss India.  He always has seemed to get along well with Labs....

The trouble was she hadn't yet been spayed since she'd had kennel cough since she'd been brought to the dog rescue a few weeks earlier, saved from a high-kill shelter up in San Bernadino, where she'd been brought in as a stray.  This meant we couldn't take her home right then.

I cried a bit about that too, but we made an appointment to come back and pick her up Monday afternoon, not long after she was due back from the vet's and her surgery.

So yesterday, after a long weekend of waiting for her, Matt went back and got her after work.

Here she is in the back seat of his car on the way home.

 (He sent me that picture when I texted him to see if everything was going okay with her adoption.)

When we got her home, she seemed tired and uneasy after her surgery and in her new home, but she did eventually settle in.

If you're wondering, we're not sticking with her original name and I have decided to call her "Molly."

I don't know, she just looks like a "Molly" to me.

Last night, as a whole went okay.

Peter was up and down all night which didn't help.  Brutus, who as I already mentions rarely spends his nights inside anymore (in favor of staying out and protecting his house by barking at whatever moves within a 10 mile radius of our yard) was determined, in this case, to stake his claim on the foot of our bed and sprawled out there all night.  Molly slept out in the living room, on the floor, (she has yet to even TRY to set  one paw on the furniture) but jumped up each time Peter got up and additionally came and breathed heavily into my ear twice so she could go out and do her business.  She had drank a good 2/3 of the water from the water dispenser dish, so I suppose that's not surprising.  

This morning, Brutus doesn't want to eat his share of the food and Molly really, really does (but I won't let her) so that's been fun.

We're also playing the outside, inside, outside, inside, if he's in she wants out and if she's out he wants in and why can't you two just make up your minds-game.

Brutus honestly hasn't spent this much time inside consecutively since he came back from Ohio.  

I think Molly is adjusting well either way.  This morning she showed me that she does, in fact, know how to sit on command when asked.  She also comes when called and lays down when asked.  (After 5 years with Brutus this is a very novel concept!) My crazy children do seem to have her a bit distressed occasionally as they break out into a little war every 45 minutes or so about something or other and scare her a bit, but once I break up the fighting, she settles back down into a pile of dogginess at my feet in front of the couch.

 What a sweetheart.

As for Brutus, well, he's just Brutus.

We've long noticed that he acts more normal around other larger dogs, and so far, I suppose this seems to be true, if by "normal" I mean he is at least showing more interest in his people.  

They haven't really played or "fought" yet, which is okay as she was only spayed yesterday morning and we're trying to keep her mellow for a few more days.  In so far as them figuring out their relationship, Brutus just seems content for now to keep a close eye on her.  At one point he brought out his stuffed hedgehog, but she didn't seem to know what he wanted her to do with that and he was contented to snarl at the thing and chase it around all by himself for a few minutes while she looked on from across the room.

Anyway, now we're officially a 2 dog family here.

Fun times.

And I suppose that means no more cats for us....

for now....  ;)

Free Spirited, Bare Foot, Earth Loving, Flower Child

So this evening after dinner we were all playing out in the backyard before it was time to get the kids ready for bed.

And my daughter?

This is what she was doing for awhile there towards the end...

Remind anyone else of that scene in Tangled when Rapunzal first gets down from her tower?  

Maybe it's just me since she was wearing her Rapunzal dress as well.

She's certainly her own little person, that's for darned sure.

The A is for "AAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Oh my daughter.

I mean, I can't actually count all the times I've tried to sit down and write a nice little blog post about the crazy things she does.  And by "things" I mean the trouble she gets herself into.  And causes.

She's like, a tiny, cute, little brewer of chaos wandering around my house.

Which is insane actually because most of the time, she's really quiet and mellow like maybe she's content to fly below the radar.  Unless she's pissed off and screaming.  She has two volume setting apparently... really soft and blow your ear drums out loud.  

Anyway, it first started when she became mobile.  She simply couldn't stay out of trouble.  And because she's so quiet she tended to get really good and into whatever it was before anybody carught her.  She would crawl over to Peter's toys and make a big mess.  She'd crawl over to the dog's food and eat it.  She's crawl over to the toilet and... well, thankfully, so far as I know I always managed to stop her in time.

Then she learned to walk.

And for months and months afterward she just wandered incessantly around the house like a zombie in search of brains.  Seriously.  She would just wander around and around and around all day long.  She didn't really DO anything besides stumble and fall over occasionally.  She just wanted to practice her walking I guess.  All I could think of was how very much she resembled a zombie with her wobbly, stumbly, little walk wandering around like that searching for who even knows what.

Then of course, she became proficient at walking and even running and she found a new reason to live:  To bug the daylights out of her big brother.

Do I even really need to explain?

So finally, things on THAT front have started to settle down.  I'm not sure WHEN it happened, but sometime not too awfully long ago, it's as if a set of little light bulbs went off in their over sized noggins and it occurred to both my children that if they can only manage to get along, they could each have somebody to play with pretty much all the time.

Which is all well and good.  

Except that now A.J. has developed a new mission in life:  to get into things she shouldn't and drive ME crazy.

Gosh she's cute isn't she?  That bodes well for her survival I think.

As an example, the other day when she said she wanted a "dwink" and I asked her if milk was okay and then mistakenly asked, "chocolate?" without clarifying that I meant did she want chocolate milk and made her think I was offering her a piece of chocolate candy.  OHMYGOODNESS does that girl ever have a sweet tooth?  I mean, sure, she comes by it naturally... but there is no way I could let her eat as much crap as she wants.

So obviously, when she figured out Mommy wasn't actually going to give her any chocolate she tried to take matters into her own little hands.

By attempting to scale the cabinets and get to the candy stash all by herself.

Why do both my children have to be such death defying climbers?

Check out my new shoes people!!  They sparkle when I walk and I hope
this will distract you from noticing the trouble I am causing

But it isn't just that she likes to get herself into trouble.

She also just does some really really weird stuff.

Like the other night at dinner when she was eating some tube shaped pasta.

Chinese finger trap?

That girl can never eat anything normally.  Don't get me wrong, she DOES eat really well.  But if you give her tube shaped pasta she wears it on her fingers.  If you give her shells she "suction cups" them to her finger tips.  If you give her peas or beans she smashes each and every one of them individually with a poke of her pointer finger rather than eating them.  Then she waits until her brother has our attention diverted before she starts systematically depositing her vegetables onto the floor for the dog.

I guess that's not to surprising.  Just sort of annoying.  Brutus doesn't much care for vegetables.

Oh.

And also, there's this other thing.

She leeeeeearning.

Adapting, even.

So, yeah, remember the picture above of her trying to climb up the cabinets and onto the counter in order the get to the sweets?  Well, obviously, she couldn't get up there that way.

So then this morning.....

I heard a big commotion coming from the kitchen.  Sounded like somebody was moving all the chairs all around....

Yeahhhhhh.... If at first she doesn't succeed, she'll try and try again.

What am I even going to do with her?

"Bolt to the Q" 5K

This Saturday I ran in another 5K.  This one was sort of last minute as I was supposed to have had my minor knee surgery about 2 weeks ago and have been taking it easy right now.  But since the Powers that Be decided AFTER I went through all the appointments and scans and checkups to get the Civilian Orthopedic Surgeon they approved me to see OFF-BASE to agree to remove the "cyst" from on top of my left kneecap... that he would NOT be covered to actually perform the procedure, it hasn't happened yet. I am now stuck in some sort of bureaucratic loop trying to get the Navy docs to do it.  So since there is no reason for me not to run right now, I decided to enter this race because it seemed like a lot of fun.

Basically, it's to kick off the start of training camp for the San Diego Chargers and of course raise some money for charity along the way.  The race ran us from their training facility, roughly 3 miles down the road to the stadium.  So we "bolted" to the Q (AKA, Qualcomm Stadium.)  Ha.   Since we were finishing in the stadium, the end line was going to be the 50 yard line and they turned on the "Jumbo-tron" so we could appear up there larger than life.  Fun times.

Now, I'm certainly not the biggest Chargers fan on the planet.  Mostly, I can't even think about the Chargers and forget that my brother's Pee-Wee football had the same name and colors.  But when I have lived here in the past, I've tried to root for them.  If you're at all familiar with their record in some of the more recent years, well, you may well understand what a frustration that can be.  Anyway, don't get me wrong.... I will always basically be a Buckeye Girl.  I don't care what anybody says, but college football is just SO SO much better than pro.  But pro can be good too, and if I hadn't grown up in Ohio with the ever-lousy Cleveland Clowns Browns and the Cincinnati Bungles Bengals to choose from, well I might be more into the NFL.  

If you're wondering, when I was a little kid, at one point, after watching my Dad weep through yet another disappointing Browns season (Bernie Kosar anyone?) I decided I was going to be a Chicago Bears fan instead.  I'm sure that at the time I couldn't have found the city of Chicago on a map if my very life had depended on it, but, I liked Bears (Polar, Grizzly, Panda, etc, ) see, so I decided to root for them.  It just so happened that was the same year that "Refrigerator" Perry, Walter Payton and Jim MacMahon took the Bears to the Super Bowl and creamed the Patriots, so, you know... BONUS.

But other than that, since I've spent the majority of my adult life in San Diego (alright maybe not the majority, but this city has been my home longer than anywhere else since I finished college) I've often rooted for the Bolts.

Anyway.

So I borrowed a friend's Phillip Rivers jersey and signed the heck right up.

I mean, who doesn't want to run across the 50 yard line and be on the Jumbo-tron?

(Not that it matters as my finish line photo mysteriously does not exist but we'll get to that in a moment.)

So here I am at the start.  It was seriously like, 6:02 am when this photo
was taken, which may explain why I look so tired.  

I've long theorized that the only sure way to determine how much I love someone (or something) is my willingness to give up sleep for it.   This started, I'm sure, back in high school and especially college when we often had psychotically early report times (5 am) and surely there was no way I would ever willingly get up at 3:45 in the morning in order to get ready and be someplace that early unless I really really loved it.  This held true when I had some of those dreadful sleepover shifts when I worked at Sea World, and of course in my life as a wife to a military man and mother.

So yeah, I must really like to run these races if I will get up and be someplace that early.   (And really, this race, being a shorter distance, had kind of a later start time.

Anyway.

So Matt dropped me at the start and then took the car and the kids down to the stadium to find seats, hang out, and watch the finish.

Peter thought the music in the stadium was too loud.

A.J. just seemed to enjoy sitting in the folding stadium seat.

Meanwhile, back at the start I was hanging out and chatting with an old friend I know from when I worked at Sea World and waiting in the impossibly long lines for the porta-potties... twice.  (Darned nerves!)

When it was finally time to start I planted myself firmly in the middle of the 10 minute mile corral, hoping actually, that this would be too conservative and that I'd be get under that pace.

But then they set us off.

And for about a quarter of a mile everything was all well and good and I was trucking along, trying to settle in and wishing my water belt would stop slipping on my stretchy shorts so much, when I hit the hill.

Having seen the course map and driven through the area, I knew it was coming, I just didn't realize it was coming so soon.  I didn't realize how long it would be either... a good half of a mile of good, solid, steepish, hill.

Craaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaap.

I managed to run (slowly) 80% of it before I finally slowed to a walk for the last little bit.  I didn't feel too bad about it either as people were dropping like flies all around me too.  Dropping to a walk I mean, not like actually falling over.  Although I couldn't help but wonder what might have happened to a few if they HADN'T slowed to a walk.

Thankfully the course then flattened out again for awhile before taking us WAY down another hill.  But then it flattening out at about the half way point  and remained that way for the duration.

It amazing how much a good half mile incline can screw with your pacing.  And your confidence.

Until the start of the 3rd mile I was feeling pretty crappy, and I suppose it's because I was still struggling to settle back in and recover from that darned hill.  The downhill that followed, hadn't helped either as it was just steep enough that I worried about falling and if I wasn't careful I was going to get going too fast and tire myself out all over again.

Grr.

Anyway, somewhere along the way, the photographers got caught me and here is their best shot...

It would be better if I had feet, but in the other 2 I look like I am absolutely gasping for air, so I chose this one.

So, eventually I could see the stadium up ahead of me so I started my end of race speed build.  I was sort of amused at this point as I began passing loads of folks who'd blown past me earlier.  Then we crossed the parking lot to head into the tunnel and ran on in.

Coming down the tunnel was cool, but I'm sad to say I was too busy trying to kick to the end to really appreciate it.  Then it opened up onto the field and I saw the end and the cheerleaders' pom pons and I just flew.

Which I suppose explains why there is no photo of me at the finishing.  I was passing folks like a mad woman and I'm not even kidding, according to my watch, my pace at the end was like a 4.57.  Whatever.  Don't be impressed by that as I'm sure I only ran that fast for a few dozen yards, but... still, I do love that adrenaline rush from finishing fast.  :)  Too bad it was too fast for the photographers though....

Matt said I was pretty easy to spot (in my jersey with those stupid shiny compression shorts, my water belt and my awesome wrist sweat band) so he watched me finish rather than trying to take a picture.  But then after I was done he took this one, so I suppose, somewhere in that mess of people  trying to get water and escape, I am there.  

When I finally made it up into the stands where Matt and the kids were waiting for me I had him take this photo of me.

Do you love my sweatband?

I didn't know about this when I registered, but on the confirmation sheet it said the first 2500 finishers would get the sweatband.  There were something like 3000 registered competitors, so of course this meant not everyone would get one.  Now, I'm not going to lie... I wanted one of those stupid sweatbands SO SO bad.

Not because I have any real need for a sweatband, or because I will probably ever wear the thing again.  But because I have a competitive streak and when there is an obtainable prize to be won, I want it.

I may never get to the point where I'm fast enough to win one of the top three awards for my age group, but when there are prizes like this... I am all over it.  Ha.

Anyway, My official results from the website:

5 K Finish time:  32:23:00
Pace: 10:26/mile
Division: placed 81 out of 263 (women ages 30-34)
Gender:  placed 425 out of 1387
Overall: 1121out of 2594


Certainly not my personal record, but I'm happy with my time nonetheless.

Oh and by the way, Go Bucks and Go Bolts!

Insight into the thought patterns of a 3 year boy....

Peter: (noticing two odd little scratches on Matt's arm that really could pass for bite marks) Daddy, what happened?

Matt: I don't know, maybe I was attacked by wild animals....

Peter: (thinks for a moment) Are you a zookeeper?

Self Portraits

Yesterday Matt sent me out after dinner to pick up diapers. In reality I think he could tell it had been one of THOSE days and I just needed to get out (away from the children) for a bit.

When he told me to go buy diapers I suppose I sort of looked at him in an "Is that it?" kind of way so he tossed me his phone and told me if I wanted I could upgrade it for him. His iPhone was purchased sometime before A.J. was born, although you couldn't pay me enough to remember more specifically when, and as such, it must be at least 20 months old and therefore has taken to crashing frequently. Don't you just love how expensive electronics become obsolete in such short amounts of time?

So anyway, I assumed I would need to head over the AT&T store to get his upgrade but since I was going to be at Target anyway (for the Pampers) I decided to ask about their deals on iPhones just to make sure they weren't better.

Well, they were actually. By a lot. And, did you know that Target now has staff from Apple and the major cellular carriers working there to assist customers? Neat!

So while I was there, waiting for my turn to get everything transferred over, I hemmed and hawed over which protective case to get and whether or not to pay for the Apple Care repair/replacement plan. The dudes working there couldn't really understand my drama over it all until I finally pulled out my own iPhone as evidence. The one I purchased almost exactly one year ago. The one that at a year old still works GREAT but is in need of a new protective case AGAIN. I showed them how my second, supposedly awesome, super protective, top of the line, Otter Box was again falling apart. The rubber outer skin is tearing in several places, the clear screen cover is scratched, dented and actually pulling away from the shell and I'm fairly certain that in at least one place the hard plastic seems to be developing a hairline fracture where it will probably, eventually, break clean in half.

The salesmen were all shocked. Otterboxes are supposed to be the best cases for protecting iPhones.

But it seems in my case, especially where my two children are concerned, the otters are continually being nabbed by predators.

Seriously, my phone case has my daughters teeth marks all over it.

My phone? Great.

The cases? We're 0 for 2.

I never did find a new case for myself that would work, but in the process of trying to explain the damage inflicted by my daughter I did stumble upon these photos left by her in my album.

How she managed get the phone unlocked, open the camera app, turn it to reverse angle and take 6 photos of herself? I may never know.

But if she can figure out how to do all of that, it's really no wonder that she keeps destroying the cases. (And I'm sure her brother helps too...

Summertime Treats

Is there anything better in the summer than a random trip to the Dairy Queen?

And alright, I suppose it doesn't HAVE to be Dairy Queen, there are loads of other great ice cream options available.  But really, as for value and simplicity, DQ is fine by me!  Nothing really beats a dipped cone, a dilly bar or a Blizzard does it?

Alright, maybe an ice cream cake.

But we were sooooo not there for another cake.  Not that I could convince my son of this.  He would have HAPPILY ordered another cake.  And I L-O-V-E LOVE me some cake, but even I am caked out at this point.  So we got cones (and Matt got a Blizzard) which is what we were there for.  

Some of the greatest joys in life are the little things.  :)

The Birthday That Would Never End

Alright, so the title makes it seem as if I'm a bit sick of the birthday stuff but I promise I'm not. (Much)  I guess I just never imagined that 18 days after the fact I'd still be finding birthday stuff to write about for our new 3 year old.

I mean, 18 days later, I've alllllllmost gotten used to saying that.  Peter is 3.  My son is a 3 year old.  Why does he have to do some things and why can't he do others?  Because he's 3.  (My favorite answer to his frequent "why" questions.)

*sigh*

Wasn't it just a minute ago that I was adjusting to the number 2?

Weird.

Anyway, getting back to my point, on Monday afternoon, right after lunch, the UPS man dropped off a belated birthday package from Peter's Godmother.  You would have thought, by my children's excitement, that the brown truck had dropped off Christmas morning all over again.  

I suppose that is the beauty of July birthdays... no need for any of that silly "Christmas in July" nonsense. Although I may be biased on the subject.  :)

The plain brown box, all on it's own was good and exciting.

But of course eventually they were going to want to know what was inside.

Some sooner than others...

When I cut it open they found.... packing peanuts.

Thank you so much UPS.  :)

And then when I instructed them to dig deeper, Peter pulled out his new toy (while Mommy
tried very hard to ignore the peanuts as they scattered all over the living room.)

Once it was free from the box they both were in awe

Peter soon recognized it as Bucky the boat from Jake and the
Neverland Pirates (one of his very favorite shows.)
With in moments he began begging for me to tear it out of the box.
A.J. just went back to making a mess with the packing materials.

Once it was freed from the box, they both got to work checking it out and playing.

Sailing it across my living room... on a sea of white, styrofoam packing peanuts.

Of course, it wasn't long before they abandoned the boat momentarily in
 favor of the static ridden, crumbling pellets.

I tried very, very hard not to hyperventilate about the mess and let them have their fun.

Of course, eventually, enough was enough.  A.J. went down for a nap and I cleaned up the mess while Peter busied himself about transporting his cars into the now empty box.

Apparently, this was the gift that just kept right on giving, long past the point of actually
 obtaining the toy.  Packing peanuts and boxes to play with too?  Oh my!!

They do play with the toy too though.  A lot.  Knowing what was coming I picked up the
little figurines of the other characters from the show ahead of time so now they can
"Yo-Ho-let-go" and have themselves pirate adventures like crazy...
all the way from here to Neverland.

Thank you for the awesome present Auntie!  

Guilty!

The children know they are not supposed to mess around and play in kitchen the cabinets.  In particular there are two cabinets (the one that holds the food and the ones that holds the cleaning supplies) that they are absolutely not allowed in.  

To help them remember this, there are child safety locks those 2 cabinet doors.

And what should happen if Mommy gets careless and forgets to lock them?

A.J. goes exploring and ends up making a mess.

Not sure who is more at fault here though.  Although my daughter sure does seem to know she was up to no good playing in there, I am the one who forgot the lock....

Anyway, at least she tried to help me clean it up..

And in helping she only made it 2 or 3 times worse along the way.  :)

Capturing Random Moments

I like to take pictures. 

Probably, that isn't going to be surprising to anybody who knows me or has ever read this blog. But, the important thing is, I don't take pictures to be artsy.  I really could care less about the quality or beauty of my photos. I care about the subjects, and the moments that I'm capturing.

I mean, sure, if we visit some amazing geographical landmark, and I take photos of it, there will be some beauty in those photos.  But seriously?  That's not art.  At least not MINE.  And I don't care if my photos of whatever awesome sights I'm looking at are artistic, just so long as they capture the things that I see so I can remember them later.

I couldn't care less about art.  I want the memories.

I suppose this is why I tend to have a camera (of some sort) with me roughly 95% of the time or more.

I don't care if those photos are framed well, or focused properly or lit correctly. I just want to be able to look back someday and remember this stuff. Because, as I've said many, many times, I couldn't make this stuff up.  Does that make any sense?

Some examples....

(Some completely RANDOM examples, all of which I happened to find on my phone just now...)

A few weeks ago right after lunch Peter and I were hanging out in the living room.  A.J. was sleeping and I was really wishing he would too. (This is important, of course, because in the picture you are about to see my 3 year old is sucking on a pacifier.  Boy how I wish he wasn't.  And that he still didn't.  But he does, in fact, a lot more often than I'd like if we are at home and particularly if I am trying to get him to relax or rest.)

Anyway, I was sort of zoning out on the couch while Peter watched Thomas or something similar on television and played with his toys.  Then, seemingly out of no where, he ran off to his room.  I heard a small ruckus from the other end of the house and then my son returned with a bag of foam blocks and his matchbox cars race track set.

Ordinarily, when the track comes out he immediately begs for help putting it all together but not that day.  

I watched him quietly pull out the launcher, the car and the little ramp.  Carefully, and concentrating deeply, he put them all together.  Then he dumped out the blocks and started building.

When he was finished, this is what he had made:

I watched quietly some more as he loaded the car a few times and shot it out, attempting to make it jump through his hoop.  Unfortunately, his aim was off so it kept missing and knocking down the blocks.  I wasn't entirely sure whether or not he minded rebuilding it over and over again but after awhile I asked him if he'd like some help lining it up.


He agreed and after making some adjustments, his car was jumping through the hole like a champ.


And then pretty much right after that he decided knocking the blocks down was more fun after all and he went back to the that instead.

Even still, I was impressed with his thoughtfulness, planning, patience and follow through.  Matt or I have both constructed similar set ups for him the past.  It seems on that day he decided he wanted to make one for himself.  

* * * * * * * * * *

Another time, one night, not too long ago Peter was in his room after bedtime NOT sleeping.  He's good at that you see.  


Basically every night we tuck him in under the covers, wish him sweet dreams and kiss him goodnight. Then, just moments after we shut off his light and close his door we will hear the thump of him jumping back down from his bed followed by the sound of his little footsteps as he pads across the room and then finally a click as he turns his light back on.  After that he plays for awhile until, eventually, he falls asleep somewhere.  In the beginning, this meant when we'd go to check on him we'd find him asleep in all sorts of funny places: On the floor surrounded by his toy cars.  Under his bed.  In his rocking chair with a book.  On the ottoman with a toy car still clutched in his little hand.  Basically anywhere but IN his bed.


More recently, he does tend to put himself back into his bed before he passes out each night which is refreshing.  Now I am just waiting for him to start laying down the correct direction, because otherwise, if he continues to sleep the way he does, he's never going to be able to sleep NEXT to his wife someday.  Or, I guess, I can say from experience (having laid in his bed with him to help him fall asleep many times) he will sleep just fine, but his poor future wife will likely not.  And she may well be  somewhat beaten up (having been accidentally punched and kicked by him as he rolls around many times in the night,) for her trouble.


ANYWAY, so back to the night in question.  Peter was in there playing and Matt and I were out in the living room keeping our fingers crossed that he'd fall asleep soon.  But then we heard his door click open and he came hopping down the hallway.  


"Maaaama, dis car is bwooooken!" he said, and he held up his little die cast Guido (the fork lift) from Cars.


Sure enough, poor Guido had lost a tong of his fork. I assured the boy that I would superglue it back in place in the morning and ushered him back to bed. Some time the next day I applied the glue and left little Guido to dry on Matt's mouse pad so that if any glue dripped off it wouldn't get onto the kitchen counter.  


That afternoon when Matt came home he wanted to know why he now had a forklift affixed to his mouse pad.

Oops.

I suppose more glue dripped off than I'd expected.


Hee hee.  Must remember to use wax paper or something like that in the future...


And if you're wondering, we did eventually manage to pry the toy off.  It only ripped off a small piece of the pad in the process.


:)

* * * * * * * * *

The day that Marcus arrived last week he and Matt took the new car out for a drive.  Right after they came back, Peter climbed in to "drive" himself and Matt took this photo.  Peter looks so much like his Dad I almost can't believe it. 

I mean, he always looks like his Dad, but sometimes he makes certain facial expressions and it's just... wow.

* * * * * * * * * 

Last week, every morning after Marcus got home from working out he would kick his shoes off and stretch.  

And every morning, Peter would try his darndest to stretch just like him.

* * * * * * * * * *

At some point during the week everybody was just sort of hanging out together in the living room.  A.J. was sitting with (on) her Uncle and then he randomly sent me a text message from across the room.  When I opened it, he had sent me this picture of the two of them.

A.J. looks like maybe she is planning something naughty....

* * * * * * * * * *

Finally, we went to a sporting goods store last week to pick up a few things.  I got A.J. her own baseball glove (it's pink!) so that she will not have to fight with Peter over his.  I was looking for some other things but in the end decided my purpose would be better served if I came again another time without the children distracting me.

But while we were there I did find some "swimmies" on clearance that I've been wanting to pick up for the kids.  These are the same ones the other children have been using at Jamie's after swim lessons.  They're Coast Guard approved (of course) but unlike life jackets which force the kids to float on their back- which they all hate- these float them more on their tummies in a more natural swimming position.  Even forgetting all of that, I'm hoping Peter and A.J. will be  more willing to wear them since the other children have the same ones.  Peer pressure can be a good thing folks!

That evening, after dinner, the kids were running around and I was cutting the tags off of them and suddenly they were both begging to try them out.  Once they had them on they didn't want to take them off.  They were both begging to go swimming right then but of course bath time was approaching, so, well....

We went with the next best thing.

"Swimmies" in the bath tub?


That right there is just... classy.



Way better than any of those artsy fartsy pictures if you ask me.