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. 

 



GUESS WHO

Your never gonna believe this. Guess who stopped by our house today for lunch and a play date.

Don't you see him?

Look closely, there to the left of a pant-less Khage.

It's Buzz Lightyear. If you can't see him, well safe to say your an adult and lost all your childhood sense of imagination. Picture me feeling sad for you.

And in true Khage fashion, answering the door for his imaginary friends dressed in a pair of jockeys and socks.

I say that like its a weird thing.

And for all we know he's got his imaginary pants on.

Fridays are a special day in our house. Typically I am pretty controlling around here. I'll put that right out there, I'm not ashamed of it. But when Friday rolls around its a little more laxed; Khage gets to pick what he wants to eat for lunch... and picking his lunch is a pretty big deal to this kid. I like to sneak pureed veggies into unsuspecting dishes whenever I can, so biting into a quesadilla that doesn't ooze green cheese is always a good day for him, but even more fun is that he also gets to invite over an imaginary friend.

He chooses the character and I give their mom a call. Mickey Mouse has stopped by a few times, then Woody and now Buzz.  And in case you were wondering, all their moms have been very nice. Mickey's mom is a little full of herself, but that's to be expected, her son is hugely famous.

I initiated Mission Grow Imagination about a month ago, and at first Khage didn't understand the magic in pretending. He would just sit back, very skeptical, and observe me as I talked to his friends. If ever Khage wanted to talk to them too, he would ask me to relay messages between them. He couldn't hear his friends when they talked to him and he definitely couldn't see them.

But now to him they are very real, as real as those pants he's wearing.

Khage is a very creative boy but needs a little boost in the make believe department, and this does just that for him. He has a very practical sense this one and he knows that his toys aren't real, and that I can't have. After all, the kids only three and I don't want him not believing in the tooth fairy before he even looses a baby tooth. But today he actually played with Buzz, they even wrestled together. They rolled around in the living room while Khage laughed and jumped around, thrilled to be doing something out of the ordinary. Something a little... magical.

Incase you are calculating how many hours of therapy he is going to eventually need to fix this mess, I want you to know that I am not tricking/forcing him into seeing these pretend friends. We have discussed how they are not real and its just fun to use our imaginations and pretend. I remember as a child wanting so badly to have an imaginary friend... only to find out years later that I could have had one all along. I don't want Khage to miss out on the wonderful magic that comes along with playing pretend, so now the pretend knocks on his door...

COURAGEOUS KHAGE

Remember last time you stopped by, you figured you would waste a few minutes of your day on some light hearted fun....

but then I was all BAM in depression mode because my daughter was bald and I started projecting on you.

Sorry 'bout that. It's just that, if I'm having a crumb day I want company.

I'm obnoxious like that... and I get lonely in my misery.

But maybe I owe it to you to make this right. Challenge accepted.

Who doesn't love a tale of courage and heroics?

Let us begin...

A few nights ago Khage was lying in his bed, we read him a book, told him a story and kissed him goodnight. The little tyrant still takes more then an hour of lying there before he actually falls asleep, so we left his door slightly cracked so the lights from downstairs could give him just enough comfort but not keep him awake. Brad and I were in the kitchen when Khage started calling our names, not completely unusual considering if you tell a kid to go to bed they will always ask for a drink of water. Always.

We ignored him. But then he started getting frantic. Brad went in to check on him and he told Daddy that a scorpion monster came into his room.

And so the nightmares begin.

But then he quickly changed his story to just a regular scorpion came into his room. Because his story was jumping all over the place, he obviously couldn't be trusted. Three year olds at lightsout will start getting desperate. So Brad tried to put him back in bed but Khage wasn't having any of that business. So the kind Daddy that Brad is agreed to black light for scorpions and prove there weren't any...

But then there was. A scorpion was right next to his door. Khage literally lied in bed and watched a scorpion walk into his room. Because the door was cracked, he could see it moving in the sliver of light. Apparently his eyesight is marvelous.

I think a thank you Mommy for making me eat all my carrots is in order.

After Brad killed it we let Khage lie in our bed for a good 45 minutes to calm down. By then it was getting pretty late and we all needed to get to sleep. Just to throw it out there Brad told Khage it was time for him to go get into his own bed. And he did it. He actually did it. When I was a kid and there was a spider in the house I avoided that area for weeks, even after it was dead. As far as I was concerned that area belonged to the bugs. It was like their delegated hangout spot and I wasn't gonna fight them for it. It was an unspoken agreement, if the spiders had clubhouses in various spots of the house they wouldn't need to go into my bed. Even as a child I was very wise.

But Khage and all his moxy. He didn't have an issue climbing back into his scorpion infested room to go to sleep.

This kids a warrior.

 

 

And that's the only picture you get.

 

If you thought for one second that I was going to leave my child alone in his room with a scorpion while I went for my camera, you are sadly mistaken.

 

Talk about traumatizing. Khage try not to get stung by the poisonous creature while Mommy documents this charade. I wanna capture the look of terror on your face so don't move a muscle.

 

And the award for worst mommy ever goes to...

OUR BALD BABY



Spoiler alert. This one's a real downer.

I don't think making the photos black and white did me any favors. Black and white's just make everything seem so much more dramatic. But, I guess seeing pictures of a Daddy shaving his daughter's hair doesn't help either... its all very depressing. Black and white or not.

I pondered for days how I was going to write this post. I planned on putting a funny spin on it.

That's just in bad taste, because there is nothing humorous about having to shave your daughters head to help prevent her from pulling out her own hair. It started with her gently playing with her hair when she was tired but within months she had bald spots. We started finding broken pieces scattered in her bed, covering her clothes when we took her out of the car seat, and tangled in her fingers all throughout the day. Initially we would tell her nono but that only resulted in her doing it more often and then simply handing us the hair as a pardon.

It was heart breaking to watch and we could tell that she did it instinctively. If she was hurt, sad or sick she would just sit their yanking strands out and it became unbearable to see. She was working through something and obviously she didn't know any other way to express herself. Brad wanted to shave her hair from the get go, but I figured it was all just a phase that she would grow out of and I didn't want to cut off all her hair if we didn't have to. I still believe it's just a phase but I also know a habit is hard to break, especially if you have access to the habit all day, every day. I'm looking at you cheese in the fridge.

So my MIL kindly crocheted Harlyn little blankets from a yarn with hair like fibers and we give those to her whenever she's tired or upset. They have become sort of an alternative and they seem to be working quite well.

Her pediatrician believes hair pulling to be a comforting technique for her and a means of handling the stress brought on by weaning her from breast feeding. There is a condition known as trichotillomania that involves the irresistible urge to pull ones hair, but her doctor doesn't think an impulse control disorder can affect a baby this young.

Only time will tell.

Until then we will just have to spoil this girl with love and help her to work through this situation as best she can.

Sad post over.

DADDY'S DAY

My kids have the best Daddy.

I know, I know. You think your kids have the best Daddy.

Frankly, in a contest such as this there really isn't a single winner. The world would be more then happy to grant every Daddy this award. And while Daddies win the title they aren't the only ones who win. Our kids win too for obvious reasons; they are the proud owners of a Best Daddy. And us wives win as well, because look at us marrying a man who deserves such a title. We really know how to pick em'.

But lets stop bogarting the glory....

Brad is an amazing father. He works hard, provides for us, yada yada yada. I could ramble on all day about the cliché qualities of a Best Daddy and you better believe Brad possess all of them.

Well, most of them. His patience could use some work.

j/k honey, me love you long time.

But seriously, work on your patience.

There is one quality in Brad that I know not all Daddies possess; he always want's to be here, at home with us, smack in the middle of the chaos and the crying. He doesn't have his own time. His time is devoted to our kids. This wonderful man chooses his family first, every single time. The only way I can talk him into going on a motorcycle ride or slip off to the gym is once the kids have gone to bed. Its not out of guilt, but because this is where his heart is. His children are his life and nothing makes a woman happier then to be married to that kind of man.

So what do you get such a guy when Fathers Day rolls around...

A pontoon boat or something equally amazing, of course.

But that's a smidge over budget. So Khage made him this instead...

I asked Khage numerous questions about Brad and then took note of his answers. Then we used the other side of the frame for Khage to draw a picture of his Daddy. He even included a little doodle of himself. And ya if you were wondering that is in fact a picture of Khage and Brad playing ball up on a wall.

 

Try and tell me in twenty years Brad wont stumble upon this and cry like he never has before.

That's my mission when giving gifts, to reduce Brad to tears.

I think this ones gonna get him. 
Sorry in advance old man Brad, but I'm coming for you.

MY LITTLE HELPERS

When my kids hear the mixer start up they all come a runnin'.

I dont blame them. If I was to hear something sizzling in a cast iron skillet I know I would hurry on over to investigate.

Khage says he just wants to help me bake, but I have come to realize that is really code word for Can I lick the spoon?

the bowl?

the wisk?

and/or the counter?

Harlyn is there purely to make a mess. Her job isn't complete until there is batter dripping down the cabinets and onto the floor.

Which works out quite well considering Khage is the self proclaimed clean up kid.

I had taken other pictures that actually included faces, but in my opnion this one takes the cake. Two little hands up to no good. The one on the right is Harlyn, busy scooping batter out of the bowl and onto the counter with a measuring spoon.

At least Khage is acting productive.  Fake stir. Fake stir. Lick. Repeat.