Walker - Our Little Ranger...

I am officially a bad mama-jama because I have totally neglected to shout from the rooftops the fact that...

Our Dax Man is a Walkin'!

And sporting some adorable muscles in his muscle shirts and board shorts... if I might add. :)

He has been taking consecutive steps - his arms up in the touchdown pose - since just before his first birthday and we have whooped and hollered and sung his praises for each and every memorable little step.

(Along with his brother who quickly saw that walking to Daddy and then to Mama was an easy way to get a big hug and lots of loud approval - hilarious.)

But until he turned 13-months old this past week, Little D had not yet decided to adopt walking as his preferred mode of operation. Well, our little ranger has turned that corner, and he is almost exclusively on his feet and running - often times right into trouble - and it is pretty fantastic.

My neighbor told me flat out... "You're so screwed." And she might be right - but for now, I'm basking in the adorable-ness of it all. Soon he'll be doing somersaults and playing wee-soccer and until then - I'm trying not to blink.

Way to go little mobile man! We Love You!

Family Man...

My babies love their Daddy-o.

There is something about his scruffy face and booming voice that draws them in. It is nothing short of magical to watch and instead of making me green with envy, it makes my heart spill over with gratitude to have such an amazing partner in this world.

Like this past holiday weekend, when RyGar got the first big "Lub You" from Kaelster, I could barely see out of my eyes that were brimming over with tears of joy. Because he really meant it. Big fat, be-dimpled fingers cupped Daddy's cheeks and belly to belly they laughed and hugged.

Swiper continues his little "fast hands routine" by stealing hats now.

He gets so stoked and chants in victory... "Hat, Hat!"

Or the fact that Dax Man clung to Daddy's legs like a monkey as Ry manned the BBQ - his eyes watering from "smoke" but really from the small fist-fulls of plucking being done by our tiny "man-scaper" as he worked to claw his way up and into Ryno's arms.

There are Superman style leaps that the boys take as they launch themselves in the air in complete faith and overwhelming love to the arms they know will catch them every time. And lots of grins and mimics as our babies play monkey see - monkey do with the Big Man.

Kaelster and Daddy-o had to rescue Dax-Man's binkie on our recent hike. I wish I had a picture of Dax who was clapping on my back when he saw RyGar hold up his long lost treasure.

There are a million examples of the pure affection my babies have for their Dad. And it is an embarrassment of riches for me. I knew from the moment he took his first glimpses at our little men that my Ryan was smitten and that something in his world shifted and he became my family man. We are what his world revolves around, which is something that I will forever count as one of my greatest blessings.

In summary, we miss you, Ryno. We're glad you're off enjoying something else that you love and breathing fresh mountain air in the solitude of big country and recharging your batteries. Just know that your little pieces of solid ground in the form of your blonde-haired, blue-eyed fan club are here - waiting - for their main man to return.

Me included... :)

Impromptu...

A couple of weeks ago RyGar and I sat down with our calendars (he with his phone and me with my paper) and we blocked off several days for possible mini-family-vacations. No real definitive plans, but dates, a list of "stuff" to do this summer and wide open blocks of time to spend deliciously together.

On Sunday after church we all voted "yay" to going rogue and we packed up to head to our secret hide out. We tossed the bags and the babies in the truck and minutes later the babes were out and we were off... and I was trying to not think of the $100 premo tank of gas we were tossing to the wind. :)

We took the boys to one of our favorite fishing holes.

Our Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn headed straight for the water so we had to occupy our time finding sticks, flowers and rocks and eating snacks. All of which eventually got thrown into the water to scare Daddy-o's lunkers away into the depths.

In summary, not much fishing was done, but the ride in the side-by-side gave us one sleeping camo babe on the ride up the mountain and another on the ride home.

We spent another morning hiking in Capitol Reef National Park.

RyGar packed Big K in one baby pack and I carried Dax Man in another and they looked like two little turtles with just their heads, hands and feet exposed. We saw lots of "zerds" as Kaelster calls lizards and then we interrupted a Bachelor Party that was being hosted by a big old boy of a Desert Big Horn.

We made it all the way to "Hickman Bridge" babies, binkies, belly and all.

The boys were good little sunscreen slathered hitch hikers and Dax even lulled off to sleep near the end of the trail. And the red and white rock formations of one of Utah's finest were beautifully lit by the morning sun.

The usual highlights - swings, horses, four-wheelers, chocolate shakes, BBQs, Grandpas & Grandmas, dirty hands and faces, dusty jeans and diapered hind ends up past bed time were all a part of our impromptu getaway.

And I can't really explain why our little "wild hair" trip has given me such satisfaction and pride. Something about sharing some of our favorite simple pleasures with our little family and doing it all alone and tucking away some of these memories just for ourselves, makes me feel like a mama. And it is hard work to travel with our two one-year-olds... but they're getting the hang of it. And so are we.

And tonight the washer hums and bags are still being unpacked and dinner was Mac n' Cheese. But it was worth it. It is always worth it. Always.

What Up?

I know I've fallen into the habit of blogging almost exclusively about my little loves and my big love... What can I say? I feel like when I share stories about them I'm in some way keeping you all up to date on moi. Is that not right? Is it a little narcissistic for me to think anyone cares? Totally.

Anyway - here's the scoop... if it merits being called that. :)

1. I tried those Sally Hansen "sticker" nails. That is all I can think to call them since you don't really paint them on. And the jury is still out here. They better last a fairly long time on my little tootsies because it was more time consuming than just painting my nails and I had to use a file - which sort of makes me cringe. Furthermore - I think touch up will be impossible. I shall report back with a full review.

2. I got my "hair did". Went to a spa and everything courtesy of RyGar. It had been ten months since my last "do". Can you believe that? I was doing root touch-up kits at home because they actually worked fairly well for my hair but that's a little embarrassing to admit. It's like I turned into a pilgrim or something when I got two babies. I promise to not let that ever happen again. Mostly because they served me crackers, cheese and sparkling water at the spa and kept a nice warm compress on my neck while my highlights "processed". I felt like a new woman.

3. I was soaking in the tub the other evening and I laughed aloud at one of my college memories. This is totally a "guilty conscience confession" so, brace yourself. I got a 'C' in statistics. And only because I talked my way into getting it and was annoyingly ever-present at after-hours study groups and I bawled to Professor Schaalje (which is pronounced Skall-ya if you are confused as I was) in his office. He felt sorry for me because I'll be damned if I could understand randomization and deviations. And it wasn't for lack of trying. I was a sad, snotty, teary-eyed mess and he was worn down by my total inability to understand the mere basics. So he told me he'd give me a C for effort. Bless his heart - or not - can't decide because that was my only non-A grade in my life. Blah. I feel sorry for all the statisticians of the world.

4. I am reading a new book by Alexander McCall Smith. If you're unfamiliar, he wrote the Number One Ladies Detective series, which I liked. It's called The Sunday Philosopher's Club and so far so good. So, if you need a new series and you can't take an all-encompassing ride like The Hunger Games, this might be a good fit for you.

5. I bought a tankini for the summer at Hapari and paid a small fortune for it. I still can't believe it, but pregnancy is the only time that I actually need a little support for the (ahem) "girls" and I was not about to buy one of the tents or skirted numbers I saw elsewhere. Maternity suits are ridiculous and I'll only be needing one for a single summer in my entire life. So I kissed 100 bucks Goodbye. I know I'll look like a blowfish when you see me at the Splash Park this summer in said tankini - but just smile and tell me how fabulous I look. That's right - I am officially requesting little white lies. Thank you.

6. I have been dubbed "The Candy Lady" in our neighborhood and I love it. Plus, it is the Universe's way of coming full circle... when I was little my brother and I would knock on Shanna Banana's door at least once a day in the summer to request a treat. Shanna would actually spend hours baking our favorite, Mumbo Jumbos, and then she would freeze them in single servings so she would have our number one requested cookies on hand at the drop of a hat. Is that not an amazing neighbor? Now, I only serve suckers and store-bought numbers, but still - it is a well-known fact that any sugar will do on a summer afternoon and I serve it up with a smile.

7. I am apparently a freakin' anomaly because "I am a girl and I drive a truck". Two of my regular candy visitors let me in on this little tidbit just last week. When they ask for candy they often ask if they can get in the bed of the truck to eat it. "Knock yourselves out" I said to them, and they thought that I was amazing (because of the truck and candy) and hilarious (due to my snide comment) and they now ask me to say it all the time. Strange little dudes. But I think I'm stellar because I can actually park a truck between the lines of any parking space with no problem. Why is it that there are so many horrific parking people out there? Take a moment - do it right - "check the difference", as my Papa says. Geez, how do you expect me to squeeze a kid through that two-inch ally way you left me?

8. I have been sitting so sloppily lately... mostly when I'm at the computer. My posture has gone out the window and I just know I'm working toward becoming the Hunchback of Notre Dame. My Mama would be so disappointed since she taught me at a young age to "stick my boobs out"... that's no lie. I think I will make it my June goal to get back on my high horse and sit and stand like a lady who cares. Shoulders back. Boobs Out.

Join me in my summer mantra if you'd like.

And I suppose I'll stop divulging all my dirty little secrets and random thoughts for now. Until next time... Wow - betcha you're waiting with baited breath, eh?!

:)

A Baseball Analogy...

I was outside in the sun (blessed sun) with some of my neighbors this week and like the Rookie that I am, I asked how you move a champion toddler sleeper from a crib to a bed. I soaked in their wise owl words and have been simmering on their suggestions ever since - dreading this "big boy right of passage" that is inevitable and in our very near future. Then I said, "Maybe I'll just get another crib." And the truth is that I was only half joking because I have this weird parenting guilt already for little man numero three who will be the only Gardner babe that doesn't get a brand new crib and nursery.

And suddenly, I have a full-on case of "pre-game jitters" about our growing Gardner clan. Isn't it strange the things we put ourselves through as parents? Our new little lamb will never care about a new crib, but me, I carry around this guilt like a ton of bricks. And Kaelster, he'll move to a big boy bed eventually and when he's a grown man he won't even have a single memory of it; but I will. And Dax-Man... will he feel any "middle child angst" as he is sandwiched between a big and little brother? And what can we do to alleviate that?

It's gotta be that this week's doctor's visit confirmed we are 24-weeks into this pregnancy. More than half way done... How did that happen?

And I guess we're all allowed a little bit of parenting guilt and questioning and worrying about whether or not we're doing it all right. But I am slowing learning that THAT is a collosal waste of time because, speaking only for myself, A) I'll never get it perfect. B) I'll do a trillion things that are fine and good and just right, and C) I'm bound to screw up a bunch of times too. Sadly and beautifully, there is no rule book, and no such thing as a perfect play in this game. So I guess that is what I've come to... to trust my Rookie instincts and do what I think is best as these little gents' mama and to pray - A LOT. Because I will soon have three little warriors to tend to and not even three years worth of experience in "the big leagues" to draw upon.

Ryan's Grandma had four babies in four years and she tells me that there is magic in building a family "fast and furious" style. And that, "They all kind of help raise one another and they are the best of friends for life."

Promise, Grandma? No crossies count...

And I guess I can say that we've worked through every rough inning and curve ball that parenthood has thrown at us thus far. A fact that I am totally and unabashedly proud of - deserving or not. And look at 'em... our babies... smilin' like this is the most fun they've ever had. Because really - it is fun. It's damn fun and I wouldn't trade it for anything. Nothing.

And it's like a random passer-by told me, "Enjoy it, Honey. You're too busy right now to even realize how blissfully happy you are."

Thanks for the pep-talk, Coach...

And for the record, I catch a few glimpses of our blissful state... here and there. :)

Lil' Preacher Man...

Kael is going to grow up to be a preacher man.

He ADORES saying prayers right now. He takes a big breath and clasps his big bear paw hands together in the cutest of fashion and imploring asks at least twenty times a day,

"PAYER, PAYER?"

He asks to pray over "Cracks" and "Joo" (crackers and juice).

He prays when we get in the car... which Ryno blames on me and my driving skills.

Whatev.

He prays multiple times at every single meal or really any time he passes by his chair.

He even asks to pray in restaurants, which is sweet and embarrassing, because really, only a prayer will appease our little Saint (just ask my sister who literally turned beet red as she bowed her head to pray to make our little rotund man beam with pleasure. Now that I think of it, maybe he knows EXACTLY what he's doing and it cracks him up that everyone goes along with his little shenanigans... mmmm.)

I've told people that Kaelster is a healer... a medicine man of sorts. Because, really, would you ever believe that RyGar and I struggled with "unexplained infertility" looking at our little family now? Yeah, my point exactly. The kid has sorcerer's powers.

So when our little man of the cloth tells us to pray - We pray.

Amen, Little Man. :)

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?