CAMPING JULY 2014

 

We will never take these kids camping again.

 

Never ever.

And when I say never ever again, what I mean is: we will probably go again in a few months.

But definitely not next month.

Brad and I hardly deserve that kind of torture.

Although, our wilderness devil children would probably love that, purely to pang us.

 

Stop. I need to explain this cheesy fingered situation. While we were scoping out the ideal campsite we were all chowing on Doritos, and every time Harlyn wanted another one all we could see was her little orange dusty fingers shoot up from the back seat. We died. All 6 times.

 

And that concludes the fun portion of this trip.

 

Commence all the crying and wining, disguised in photos as an enjoyable family camping trip.

 

Where there is mud, these kids will go. I'm not complaining, I love me some filthy outdoor babies. Just as much as I love getting all Sacagawea on them later, and bathing them in the lake.

 

 

 



 

Do you see how close I am? I think if I were quick enough I could have snatched him up and skewered him. Maybe this one's too cute to eat, but he had a little fat friend running around that I wouldn't mind gettin' my hands on.

 

 

 

Grandma and Pompa even drove up for a day to go fishing with us. These kids are so darn lucky, clearly they wouldn't have made the drive just to smell see Brad and I. 

 

Things I want to remember about this trip:

Once the kids got a whiff on the fresh air they morphed into miserable little people, but returned to their natural selves once the campsite was completely packedup and the fire was put out. oh joy.

While camping, both kids were happiest once when we let them play inside the Tahoe.

Khage zonked out early in the evening, Harlyn on the other hand was on crack and refused to go to sleep at a normal hour. She spent her time winding down by jumping all over her slumbering brother while Brad laughed uncontrollably, only encouraging her poor behavior.

While hiking, Harlyn was thrilled to stop and pick flowers.

Khage absolutely loved fishing, but even more so he just loved playing with the bait worms.

So much in fact, he wanted us to take them home, sadly we made him release them into the wild. #myparentsaresouncool

#getoveritkidoryoucanwalkhome
#whyamitalkinglikethis
#makeitstop

...

Ya. I think were done here.

TO MY WIFE

Jamee Mae

Thank you for all you do and all the selfless acts you commit, our children and me are truly blessed, they do not understand yet as much as you would like but I certainly see it every day. You have sacrificed so much for the sake of our children. There is no better match for me our are children then you. I don’t tell you enough (well  I've never told you) but if it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t be the man I am today  you help me in everyway .  Thank you for being such a wonderful person, the light in our little world, the sanity( sometimes), the laughter, and all the greatness in this crazy little home.  Thank you Jamee Mae for all that you do. I love you so much honey.

                                Your loving husband.  

STORY STONES

Khage loves when I tell him stories. He asks me all day long; before naps, when he's bored, in the car, during lunch, while he's on the pot, while I'm on the pot... too much? I always go too far.

Anyway, its kinda our thing. Like a club that only we are apart of. Brad has gotten in on it a few times but that Khage always seems to come running back to the real story telling master. And I loved telling him stories, up until the other day when...

I ran out of stories.

So there Khage sat, crossed legged in front of me, with his eyes burning a hole into my soul, anxiously waiting for a magical tale... I had nothing.

I went into panic mode.

Come on guy, I'm an adult for crying out loud, I am growing out of my imagination by the day. I can't just think up fictional stories on a whim anymore. And I surely can't think up multiple stories in a day to appease his undying requests. I have life insurance, I read nutritional facts on the backs of food labels, and I watch black and white movies... I'm no longer a kid. I'm a full blown adult and my head is consumed with other things outside of the realm of mystical lands and talking animals.

Something had to be done. After all, I didn't want to be kicked out of the club. I have never belonged to a club before, especially one as prestigious as this.

And so Story Stones were born.

Technically speaking, they were found and painted. Never born.

 

Now I just grab a few of these bad boys and build a story around them. Khage loves it, and I'm still an honorary member of the club.  Khage is none the wiser.

Tell me you saw the little house. Pretty proud of that little house, with it's picket fence and a tree to boot. Who would have thought my hidden talent was in tiny rock painting? Is that a thing, tiny rock painting? If so, I should compete.

And people say stay at home moms just watch tv all day. Puff on that, haters.

IT'S MY BIRTHDAY... BLAH BLAH BLAH

Lets talk about what's not a good idea:

Selfie shots on your 28th birthday.

I'm old now, and no number of selfie shots can reverse it. Simply saying selfie makes me feel outdated. Stand down if your older then me. My birthday, my rant.

I took over thirty something selfies today, and yup those bags under my eyes are present in every single one.
I turned away from the sun.
I dropped my chin.
I swung my hair about.
And I used various rooms in the house.
But darn if those eye bags aren't persistent.

FYI, selfies in the family room look about the same as selfies in the living room.

I keep telling myself, self your a mom and this is what mom's look like. But all that does, is remind me that my stomachs not in great shape either. Oy vey.

And don't bother asking me about the placement of my left arm in picture 2 and 4. I was going for the casually sitting about while feeling playful look. But seems, I captured the don't mind me pulling the back of my own hair look. There's a thin line and I crossed it. 27 year old Jamee would have nailed it, darn this older version of myself.

And if you must know, I didn't even bother to put on real pants for these pictures. I'm still in my pajamas. My energy levels also not what it used to be.

My face is a hot mess. My stomachs in shambles. And my energy's junked... thank goodness for the best birthday presents a mother could ask for: a reason to never take selfies again.

These cute little chums really know how to distract the eye from the car wreck that is my face.

Don't pity me, just tell me how to stop it.

This aging thing ends tonight.

... or we'll just revisit this again next year.

HALLELUJAH

It rained. In Arizona, it actually friggin rained.

Water, literally fell down from the sky and made massive puddles. And the next morning those puddles got together and called our names. And when a puddle calls your name, you listen.

And sometimes, not all the time, but sometimes it demands you get your bike and ride through it... preferably shirtless and in tight pajama pants.

Well, not all of us got the same request.
It made itself very clear it wanted me: with shirt and preferably in loose fitting bottoms.

Don't hate, puddle, don't hate. Mama's got it going on. But yes, I will wear a shirt.

Now, lets ride. 

 

 

 

 

  

Khage kicked up the cutest little wakes.

His pj's were soaked and he laughed hysterically.

 

I love when it rains. But even more so, I love what the rain does to my boy.