Goin' Places...

You know that saying people use when they're referring to someone really ambitious and amazing? As in, "Wow, she's really going places, that one." Well, here are two little men who really are - whether that is literal or figurative or both. I believe there is magic in these two souls.

We had a little ongoing brew-ha-ha about this over 4th of July weekend when my Dad, who had no intentions of being rude or offending anyone, said, "When you are just getting babies here in this world you look at them and you think they'll grow up to be rock stars, NBA players or Presidential candidates for sure. And then they turn out to be average, upstanding citizens who are 'normal'."

Cue the opening of a sarcastic little can o' worms for the poor guy...

The rest of the weekend was full of snarky remarks like,

"I hope your steak is grilled OK... You know, I'm just your mediocre son-in-law."

and

"How was that firework for you? Probably just average, huh?"

Oh we laid it on thick. And it was funny and true all at the same time. Kind of like the fact that my heart is so excited to see my little men grow up to their full potentials and to see what they will do and who they will ultimately become. And I joke about investing in my retirement when I spend a sweltering afternoon at the ball field with a Little Tykes baseball tee, but I think it is the duty of every parent to hope for wild dreams of insane success for your offspring... knowing full well that if they grow up to be healthy and happy... that is all you can ask for.

But the meaning of happy is intricate and subjective and dependent on a lot of things. And I want my kids to learn this just as much as I want them to be happy. Because the truth of it is that most putts don't drop and most beef is tough and most children grow up to be ordinary people. But along the ride there are amazing vistas of greatness. And that is when you must bask and know that your little one is extraordinary in every way.

And to quote the great Doctor named Seuss...

"Oh the Places They'll Go".

Little Letters of Summer...

Dear City Officials - I pray that never ever do you get sued by some malicious parent over an accident at your FREE splash park. Your idea was genius and we visit your flowing waters often. AND we pay a premium to the city every dang month to live here with our free splash park and our running trails, so really, if you do get sued, your legal fees should be covered. Just clarifying - A Responsible Citizen.

Dear Nordstroms - While I appreciate that I once was a valued and loyal customer - I am that no longer. You can stop sending me the "Preview Sale" catalogues and the "Anniversary Sale" fliers... they just make me feel a shade or twelve LESS cool than I already am.

Dear Humidity - I loathe you. I do not live in the Southeast for a reason. I am a desert rat and I like my heat hot and dry. Besides, my hair is doing funky things because of you and let's face it - thanks to the prenatal vitamins, the hair is one of the few things I have going for me at the moment. Please go away.

Dear Illegal Turned Legal Fireworks - Do you even know the joy you have brought to our home? We all know that July is a month for men... filled with BBQs and Fireworks for little pyros in grown-up bodies. You make my husband, my dad, my brother and my baby boys completely giddy. They enjoy "blowing stuff up" with you under the pretense of "duty" - like taking care of that hornet's nest in the basketball standard. Now if only they can "ration" a few of you for New Years. P.S. It is looking doubtful.

Dear African Ice - Thanks to the family chain of communication I learned of you from my niece in London through my SIL that you exist in my hood. I once was addicted to the snowy shaved ice version of you called "Bahama Bucks" in my beloved Arizona. Now that I have found you - I adore you - just as much - if not more than BB. You are the best and your free cream on any snowy is just plain genius.

Dear Jeans - I love that you are trending to other things and our options are not solely skinny. Wide Leg Jeans = Happy Women with Hips of America. Course - I need a couple of months to get into mine, but I can't wait to put on some jeans with a little flare and some heeled clogs. I am officially stickin' it to the skinners. Let's hear an "AMEN" sistas!

Dear Babies - I adore you in every way. I love every single part of you. But I am worried that you are both turning into exhibitionists or future nudists. Clothes are not your enemy. You look freakin' adorable in whatever we put on you AND we have paid good cash to ensure you have nice wardrobes. Let's embrace our threads, babies. Thank you.

Dear DVR - You are SO not earning your keep at the moment. I feel like I should cancel you completely until the fall sweeps come back. There is not ONE THING on my DVR list that is recording. How sad is that? And yes, I know that summer is the time for lounging at pools and playing outdoors - which we do - but only until bedtime which is 8 pm. What am I supposed to do every night after that? Yours Truly - Addicted.

Dear "So You Think You Can Dance" - I lied. My DVR totally recorded you and I watched you last night and I now think I can not, nor could I ever dance. How is it that the competitors keep getting better, more amazingly talented and basically awesomely bendy? I am in serious awe.

Dear RyGar - Have I told you how much I'm looking forward to our weekend getaway? If I failed to mention it - just know that at times it is the thing that I wistfully day dream about that gets me through emptying diaper pails and mopping floors. I can't wait - and it ain't a trip to the islands - but it'll do until I'm back in bikini shape. Thanks! :)

Salesmanship Award...

In my previous life I managed a group of Sales Professionals for a Publishing house. And no lie - we were good. Very good. They were savvy sales men and women who could reach out to their extensive network of customers and I could move an internal mountain range if need be to ensure the details worked out in our favor, and voila - our relationship was successful and symbiotic. I loved it. They loved it. And we all received happy bonus checks and other awards and accolades for our performances.

In my current life, as COO and Domestic Engineer of this household, it is once again my duty to head up the Sales Department. Never in my life have I felt such sweet sales victories as those I experience regularly as a Mom. Like when I sell green beans, sharing, teeth-brushing and bed time to my little duo of toddlers... I mentally reward myself with the coveted title of "Sales Woman of the Year". I'm often tempted to write a little check out to the order of "The Great, Amber", or to hang a plaque on the office wall; but then there are those tough sales, like wearing clothing in the back yard which we currently think is optional. Mmmm.

And you know the feeling too. :)

Selling little strong-willed kiddos on something is a high of the most natural and pleasant variety.

Before I started either of my sales careers, a wise mentor told me, "The key to a successful career in sales is to ensure that people want to go along with YOU for the ride above all others... You better be able to make a trip to hell and back look like the most amazing road trip of all time just because you're in the car with them."

Well, let me tell you, I can make brushing one's teeth look like a ride at an amusement park... for real. And clean up? You ain't never seen someone sing the clean-up song like this one. :)

So, to you, me and every other sales profesh out there at the work place or in the real trenches called home... write yourself a nice little bonus check (or in my case, splurge on a shaved ice at the local snow shack). Because, Oh Baby, you deserve it. Fo' Sho.

Almost a Century...

Can you even imagine celebrating your 95th Birthday?

Me neither, but we're sure glad that Grandpa Gardner is partying like a rock star on his today.

This is the boys' Great Grandpa Gardner... Ryan's Grandpa. He is the sweetest, kindest, funniest, best-est old guy on the block... (to quote Dennis the Menace).

And he still has some pretty great hair if you ask me.

The guy is our hero for a lot of reasons but especially because he raised EIGHT boys and a daughter. How? I.have.NO.idea. But we admire him and marvel at his longevity even more knowing that he had a bunch of rowdy little men to tend after.

Now, if only we can raise a few little rowdies to be just like their Great Grandpa...

Do we have a century to get it right?

Sure hope so.

Love You, Grandpa Great.

When We're Helping...

We're happy.

Except for when we're not.

These boys mostly LOVE to vacuum or "Baa-Cume" if you ask Kael. Their little arms pump back and forth a mile a minute and Dax is especially intense about it all...

Ladies of the land... they're cute and they clean.

'Nough said.

Happy Weekend Cleaning, Ya'll.

Happy Fourth of July...

I undoubtedly grew up in the town that throws

the best dang Fourth of July Celebrations ever.

As is evident from our candy pile.

(I told you the babies love 'em a good chase for "Andy")

Remember the scene from The Sandlot when "The Beast" is chasing the crew of ball players through the little town and everyone is out having a red, white and blue feast and chatting it up with their neighbors and then the fireworks show begins overhead and everyone kind of stops running and just marvels at the skies?

Yeah... That pretty much sums it up.

Peace, Love and Patriotism, Baby.

Fourth of July is huge.

Bigger than Christmas huge.

Bigger than my prego belly huge.

And I love it.

And so do these guys (thank goodness)...

I packed every single item of clothing for the little men that was red, white and/or blue and we went ballistic celebrating our country's Independence with my whole fam-damily for the entire weekend. Just how I like it. And all the necessary ingredients were involved: sun, water, snow cones, cotton candy, parades, fireworks, and BBQs.

And Slip n' Slides... How could I forget?

And really, the whole town kinda does this idealized movie scene. We see old friends from school and comment on how cute one an others' kids are. We wave at all the "princesses" at the parade. We get rowdy at the afternoon horse races. We pull out the kiddie pools and the ice cream. We pack around little hot and sweaty bodies to the next thing on the agenda so that they too will have these amazing memories of the "diaper derby" or the "fish grab" or splashing with cousins to stash away forever.

And I swear to you - they love it. The long, hot days and sometimes long nights in slightly cramped circumstances with sometimes tear-stained faces...

it all contributes to the "special-ness" that is a summer holiday.

Ahhh - Fourth of July...

Just 363 days 'til next year.

I.Can't.Wait.

No, seriously... I really can't wait. :)

Could it Be?

Is it really July?

Holy Smokes. I don't know why summers always fly by at the speed of sound. I really don't. It's not like I'm still in grade school watching the days on the calendar inch ever closer to that dreaded but also adored first day of classes. So why must these sun-filled days be so hard to capture and cradle?

The babies at our own Wimbledon this week...

Along with July comes a hodge podge from our house. Not because that's how we're feeling, but that's what we're doing. We tackled a few major projects like cleaning the storage room and buying big boy beds. And we have begun to prep for somebody's forthcoming big day.

(Here's a Sneak Peek... Stay Tuned.)

We are all packed for another get-away.

We have splashed, strolled, sprinklered, scrubbed and snow-coned.

And not necessarily in that order or exclusively described in this list...

The babies and I are on a roll. We run our errands in the morning and nap in the afternoon and then get up and run like maniacs until it is time to come back to greet daddy-o and have dinner. They are good little buddies sitting in the back of my truck and I love to look back and see my little stars in their sunglasses chugging on their beverages of choice.

The belly is also on a roll - growing at a rate that I swear is impossible. I think it is a bit narcissistic to post pictures of myself on here, but then again, several folks have asked to see the burgeoning bump (mostly so they can be glad it isn't them with the ever expanding waist line) and see it you will, but only because RyGar reminded me that this is baby number last and I should just relax and embrace the "jabba the hut-ness" of it all.

Belly Baby at 28 weeks.

And on a silly little note. The boys have really taken to visiting "Grandpa" at Cabela's lately. They still like the fish, don't get me wrong, but their new thing is to run to the museum and push the button on the older talking gent who they call "Pa" and listen to his hunting tales. They can't get enough of him and it is slightly adorable.

Note Kaelster's fish face... Such a pro.

Dax is listening to "Pa" intently. 'Sup Pa?

The adorable-ness is also found aplenty on our happy Summer nights...

Because ya'll know you can't resist clean, post-bath babies dressed in their bed things making their last big hurrah before the lights go out.

Me neither...

Happy July.

:)