Dog Days of Summer?

Wanna know what we do in the summer time?

So do we.

Look at our poor baffled Kaelster, wondering when he can break out his swimming suit. :) Here it is - hours away from June... already - and we have yet to go to a single splash park because a couple of partly sunny days with a whopping high of 70 degrees has been our peak and those were just two random days sandwiched between a bunch of rainy, cold ones. A fact that is making me sound almost grumpy.

Not flattering...

So, we improvise and we play in the hose when it is 60-something and then we run into the house to a warm bath to avert turning purple and numb.

Ah well, these little monsters of ours don't seem to mind a bit.

Nor do they mind that we skipped a trip to our beloved hide-away this weekend to plant flowers and tend to some chaotic drawers and a few other odds and ends on our "to-do list".

They were big helpers.

And they rarely sat down on the job except for the occasional juice break when they got plastered with another layer of sunscreen or mud.

And their beloved pup was obviously pleased with the fact that we stayed home and played in the yard with him and his big block head.

'Tis the simple things, eh?

Lessons...

I decided to post pictures like these today.

Because I am the mama and I have author privilege on this little blog. :)

And I know what you're thinking - those kids are freakin' perfect as they sit like two old men playing checkers together. And you would be right. Yes, yes they are... pretty much perfect;

Except that I could have taken a series of pictures at Target yesterday where we had a full-on, lie in the bottom of the red cart, howl and kick, tears and snot tantrum by Big K. Accompanied by the harmonizing whining of Little D who threw everything in reach out of the cart and everything else in reach off of the displays and onto the floor.

It was the longest fifteen minutes known to the history of mankind.

All this over popcorn, if you can believe it. And it would have been MUCH easier to buy the dang popcorn and be on with it, but no body would have learned a thing from that.

Which blows because I wanted some popcorn too... Target's popcorn is like heroine (I think).

I texted Ryan after I reached the peaceful confines of the truck in one piece, glistening and blushing out of sheer disbelief and embarrassment and wondering if I should just drive myself to a psych ward and he replied,

"They don't mean it. Keep loving them. They adore their mama."

Hello, Buddha.

When did you eat my hubby and start using his phone to share your words of wisdom?

The thing is, I know they don't mean it. And I really am thanking my lucky stars that this was our first official tandem meltdown at insane decibels in a public place. And I will always love them regardless of tantrums and whining. I just solemnly realize that I have entered the days of discipline and I don't really want to have to be the disciplinarian. Can't there just be a little cricket that travels on the shoulders of my little men to do the dirty work? Pretty Please?

And since I'm guessing the answer to that rhetorical question is a big, fat NO, I'll just focus on rewarding positive behavior.

Like this.

Not our best picture ever, but one of the best outward expressions of brotherly love caught on camera....

Because by and large the bulk of what goes on around here is pretty dang fantastic. And I suppose the random "off" moment has to happen so we have a little yin and a little yang and we can really savor those yummy, perfect, heart-melting moments with our little ones.

Bottom line, I'm taking the following advice from someone who, in my opinion, nailed it...

Finger paint more and point the finger less.

Do less correcting and more connecting.

Take your eyes off your watch and watch with your eyes.

Care to know less and know to care more.

Take more hikes and fly more kites.

Stop playing serious and seriously play.

Run through more fields and gaze at more stars.

Do more hugging and less tugging.

Be firm less often and affirm much more.

-Diane Loomans

To tomorrow... (Ahem...pull out something sparkly here, or something loaded with caffeine and pour it in a fancy drinking vessel so we can toast one another...) may yours and mine be tantrum free and full of the sweet stuff.

:)

What The?

There was a sniper in my back yard.

Normally, I would be dialing 911.

But on this particular rainy day I realized that this was actually my RyGar "testing" his rain gear. He is prepping for his big Alaska fishing trip and making his "Cabela's List" and checking it twice. It is annoyingly cute. I think it is safe to say that our Big Man is pretty stoked about spending some quality time in the wild with the boys. Which makes me smile because yours truly made this trip of a lifetime happen.

All I can say is the babies and I are expecting stellar souvenirs for our

epic Birthday Gift of 2011.

:)

That and a free pass for embarrassing you on the World Wide Web.

B&B...

Allow me to introduce you to two stars of our little "Bag o' Tricks" for our babies.

"Bankie"

And Binkie...

The former is like the Balm of Gilead to our Kaelster,

and the ladder is like an extra appendage for our Dax Man.

I shudder thinking of the day that RyGar or I make the mistake of traveling any significant distance without either of our two little habits. More eminently, I loathe the day that Dax is done with a significant amount of teething and the binkie is permanently removed from his life. He'll be like a wounded soldier who has "phantom pain" from his seemingly massive loss.

And yes, I paint a pretty brutal picture of addiction with these descriptions of my little junkie babes' and their hooks, but really, I owe a great deal of thanks to their little security objects of choice...

The bankie can ease the pain of the worst bonk and can lull an otherwise restless giant to sleep with it's silky lining.

The binkie can magically stop the ache of budding teeth and allows for more manageable transitions from Daddy's arms to those of the babysitter.

And beyond that.... well, it is stinkin' adorable to watch Big K run with his little "bank" in hand to new places and new things and new people - all buoyed up by the magical power and fortitude of his little 12x12 inch weapon.

And our binkie baby uses "the bink" to suck himself off to slumber, and often, in addition to the one in his mouth, he uses one in each hand to cover his baby blues and drift off to la la land.

There is comfort in those things that we know the best.

There is safety in those things that are most familiar.

And there is a reason that mama has triplicates of all of our favorite things. :)

Super Power...

I officially know what super power I would never ask a genie for.

(You know, because I'm pretty sure I'll find one in a lamp soon enough).

And that super power would be.... a super heightened sense of smell. I feel bad for dogs and possums or any animals that rely so heavily on their sniffers.

RyGar brought me the most beautiful bouquet of lilies. I adore lilies and usually I breathe them in deeply and fondly every time I pass by.

Yesterday, I held that bouquet disdainfully while plugging my nose and moving the entire vase of them downstairs to the guest bathroom. Poor Ry... I might as well have just stomped on his thoughtful little heart. But this blood hound pregger nose of mine is making me want to vomit at the strangest of scents. Like, please, pretty please, don't ask me to make a hot dog for the babies - I'll lose it for sure.

Which leads me to my super power of choice. I officially want a little Bewitched nose and all that comes with it. Can you imagine wiggling your little button nose and having your hair and makeup precisely done in mere moments? Or what about laundry? A simple little twitch and it is all cleaned and neatly folded. Heaven.

Since it's Friday, and it is raining, and our Zoo trip was cancelled due to our Portland-ish weather, I'm here blogging about super powers and scouring the internet for cool/masculine/unique but not whacko boy names for our forthcoming little dude; while my alter-ego Stella is in charge of the household. Freakin' Stella, what a slacker.

:)

PS - We are SO open to name suggestions. Lay 'em on us. For real. We need help. It took us an agonizingly long time to come up with the two gems we already have. How can we possibly be expected to find a name that is totally bitchin' again?

PPS - Bitchin' isn't a cuss word. If you learn it from your brother at a young age and you use it sweetly, as in, "Your shirt is so bitchin'", it is actually considered one of the highest of compliments. This has been a lesson in grammar/slang that was not intended to be off-putting or insulting - just informational.

Thank you.

Fast Forward...

Wanna take a glimpse at our little men as actual men in, say,

twenty years from now?

Oh, You know You do...

Presenting... Our little Foo-Man-Choos a la Cafe Rio.

Thanks, Summer, for the dinner idea!

Just like Daddy-o with a goatee and flaunting those dimples...

What's a girl to do with such cheesy little lumberjacks?

:)

Ain't It Fun...

Being ONE...

Or maybe it isn't.

Based on the way our little man stared down the photographer today,

I'm gonna go with, it's a huge job to be a one-year-old.

At least on certain days.

Our little happy model usually loves him some time in front of the camera,

but today wasn't his day - or maybe it is just a right of passage...

Become a toddler and show some 'tude.

As I recall, this is the exact age

that big brother stopped playing nice with the camera man.

What ever will we do?

Silly Little Man...

Good thing you're cute - smiles, or no smiles.

:)

In the Corner of My Mind...

Is a little tiny town and a little red brick house at the base of some huge mountains where I have made a million or so memories in my life. It's the Wayne Wonderland house which isn't exactly a cabin but definitely isn't a home on a city block in suburbia. It is Heaven in the form of red dirt and canyon and mountain views and minute four-wheeler rides that put you at secret fishing spots.

And my boys' jeans have little clumps of that dirt in them tonight, because we just came home from our secret hiding spot after a weekend filled with mud pies, four-wheeler rides, horses, Grandma & Grandpa, pine cones and brook trout.

My babies are gettin' pretty good at this little trip of ours. They sleep through the night and eat all their veggies and clean up their toys so they can scurry their little bodies back out the door to go "O'Side" time and time again.

And who wouldn't want to hurry outside to play with Grandma?

The.Best.Ever.

My big man especially loves it. I suspect that the return to quiet nature and cool lakes and the "wind chimes" of the trees in the forest is a way in which he can bring balance back to his life after an exhaustingly busy work season. And he needs that therapy just as we all do, so that he can take a moment and realize that he has everything it takes to lead this little army of men and me. That whenever he feels exhausted, confused or at his wit's end.... he can look within and gain strength from his moments of quiet solitude in the mountains.

Nope, Big K isn't going goth - just sampling the sprinkles...

And though they might not know it yet... my little men are graduating to something bigger, grander, more reverent & sacred every single time we visit our mountains. And some day very soon, they'll sit on the rim after hiking in with their Daddy and look at the patchwork quilt that is the world beneath them and gain that breathtaking perspective that the world is big. And that they can do so much in it. And that they are closer to God than they even realize.

And they'll reserve a spot for those memories... in the corners of their minds.