Holy Mastitis! I have been so under-the-weather this last week. I am on antibiotics now, but I have been so extremely exhausted that I was a little afraid that I might be (do I dare say it?)... uhmm... pregnant. Thank. The. Lord. The test came back negative. Whew. It is just that I don't remember being so tired other than during the dreaded first trimester. I mean, I have been napping or wishing that I was napping every day. Haven't done that since early last pregnancy. It must just be that my kids are getting up too early and this humid heat is wearing me down. Oh how I miss the days when Max was sleeping in until 9 a.m. They were sure good while they lasted. Now he wakes up anytime between 6:00-7:30. I know that is a pretty typical time frame for 2.5 year olds to awaken, but I am NOT an early riser--infact, I am the anti-morning person. I do not function well that early. Never have. I can stay up all night long and well into the wee hours of the morning just fine, but 6:30 a.m. is just torture for me, and sometimes I feel like there is not enough coffee in the world...
I have a lot of catching up to do, and I am hoping to do so before this weekend--we are taking our first real vacation in almost 3 years. Although, I am starting to wonder whether this trip we have planned can actually be classified as a vacation since it will entail at least 13 hours roundtrip in a car with two kiddos. Doesn't sound like a thrilling way to begin or end a vacation in my opinion. In fact, I am so dreading this portion of the agenda, that I have actually considered canceling the entire thing and staying home instead--even though it has been so long since we have done anything like this. Sure, we have gone away to visit family in UT or VT, and while we really enjoy ourselves and always relish the entire experience, those visits aren't technically vacations. No. When I think of a vacation, my mind drifts back to that time we went to Puerto Vallarta, or Spain--or even all the times I went with Paul to Southern California: There was an ocean, a pool, and a lot of good food and drinks. This time there will be an ocean. And, maybe a pool. Not quite sure about what else is in store for us. Not even sure what to pack. Don't even really know much about where we are going. I guess I need to google Cape Cod.
Anyway, enough jibber-jabber. I have a lot of pictures (surprise, surprise) to post.
These pictures look like we are on vacation, but in fact, this pool belongs to our good friends Mark and Anne Ouimet. Sam was just a chillin' in the tube, taking in the sun while unwinding after a long, hard day.
Max. He is a little apprehensive around water, even though he has been taking swimming lessons since the end of March. He has gotten a little better, though, and his favorite thing to do is, as he likes to call it, "monkey bars". This is where he holds onto the pool edge and "monkey walks" along the perimeter of the pool. He does this all unassisted, and can go around several times. But, other than that he is pretty scared of the water. I cannot complain or nag him about it too much, as I am among those who do not know how to swim. I can doggy paddle, but it ain't pretty. Hopefully, with more exposure Max will relax and begin to take after his daddy, a very efficient swimmer and former lifeguard.
I know that a lot of my family have been anxiously awaiting pictures to illustrate the Bat Story. I have to say it is quite the story. The reader's digest version is that somehow a gigantic bat was flying around our house one night. Paul insisted that he saw a flying rodent with at least a 24-inch wing span. I admit I was skeptical--how in the heck did a bat get into the house? I was sure that it was just a giant moth or some creepy flying bug that lives in hot, humid climates. But, sure enough, after meticulously searching high and low throughout every room in the house we found it hiding out above the curtains in our living room. I immediately grabbed my phone and dialed my mom. I have no idea why, but out of everyone I know, she is the one who would know what to do. She is the bat expert (she did grow up in Kanosh, after all).
Anyway, we were pretty freaked out that this thing was going to go crazy and fly haphazardly all throughout the house, pooping bat guano all the while, possibly getting tangled in my hair or attacking us; hence, the motorcycle helmet, long-sleeved shirt and gloves. I was laughing so hard when I took this picture, but then I realized that I had no bat repellant armor to sheild me. So, Paul paused his bat mission to get me protection: a fleece hoody, a pair of motorcycle gloves, pants to protect my legs, and pants and a scarf for his own legs and neck. By then I was too entrenched in garb to snap any more pictures, so you will just have to use your imagination. It was pretty hilarious.
In the end, we got the bat. Poor thing. Shouldn't have come into our house anyway. (Still trying to figure out how he did--eeeeewwwww!!!)
Sammy is in love with anything food. So long as it is not pureed or from a jar, he devours it. His latest fave is pizza. Which works out nicely, as Max still really likes it too. Although, I think peanut butter sandwiches have replaced pizza as Max's favorite.
Anyway, as cute as he is with a food-stained face, he gets SOOO messy whenever he eats. This is mostly because he insists on feeding himself. He is actually already getting pretty good with a spoon. But, he really wants to do it all on his own, and he even pulls his bib off. So, dinner time (and breakfast and lunch) are all served au naturel. He eats naked, and I hose him off in the sink after every meal.
He actually really enjoys this after-dinner-spritzer.
What a bummer--everyone was looking at the camera. At least Paul and I have nice smiles, and the two cutest members of the family are on display. Paul used to have the self-timer portraits down, but for some reason he fell out of practice. Maybe we can blame it on our fancy new camera that neither of us really know how to work.
So, we tried it again the following day, and Paul must have been practicing because his skills had markedly improved.
The 4th of July.
I have to say that this was one of the most fun days of Max's life so far. I mean, it is right up there with the days he spent on tractors, playing on sand hills, and riding horses. He had such a good time and still talks about certain events from the night.
We went over to my friend Sara's house for a BBQ. What a spectacular time we all had, and given that we celebrated the 4th of July on the actual 4th of July--even though it was a Sunday--I have to say that there was no other place we would have rather been. Because if we had been in UT we would have been in church. Not exactly fireworks going off there. At any rate, we would have loved to have been in UT on July 2nd or 3rd, and instead spent the entirety of those days feeling homesick for our loved ones who, in addition to celebrating Independence Day in the manner that has become a tradition for me, were enjoying a family reunion. That would have been a lot of fun, and we were very sorry to miss. Plus, Paul was feeling like giving the Navajo Tacos one more chance.
Anyway, we went to my friend Sara's for a BBQ, and everyone enjoyed themselves. It was here that Max actually really learned to ride a tricycle. He finally figured out how to pedal and steer to get where he wanted to go. Since then he has been making the rounds inside my house. Yes, inside. I will miss it when he graduates to bigger bikes that are too substantial to ride around in the house, as it is really great entertainment for him and allows me to get dinner ready. We ride it outside, too, but it is SOOO hot and humid here (have I complained about that enough?).
Max enjoying a hot dog with his daddy. According to Paul (he who grew up in New York--home of the dirty-water-dog), mustard is the only thing that belongs on a hot dog.
... and Paul and Eric built a fire.
Which so happened to be Sammy's first fire...
...and his first s'more. MMMMmmmmm. He especially loved the chocolate. Smart kid.
All four kids swinging.
My two little cutie-pie boys playing on the slide. Paul makes fun of the fact that I buy matching shirts for them, and some random woman at Home Depot actually asked if they were twins the other day--I think the matching shirts confused her.
Gracie, Sara and me. Sara is my best friend out here, and unfortunately I feel like such a lurpy giant next to her. She is like 92 lbs soaking wet.
All the kids got to experience fireworks for the first time. We weren't sure how late the kiddos would last, so we set up the show a little early. Little did we know they would all still be awake long after the sun had set.
Little Sammy checking out the sparkly display in the distance...
Max's first sparkler. I was a little surprised that my husband--Mr. Cautious--would actually allow him to hold on to this dangerous explosive device. Maybe I am the neurotic one in the family after all.
Paul had him doing the Statue of Liberty pose. Everyone was cracking up, but he had this really serious look on his face. It was too cute.
One would think that fireworks and sparklers would have been a fantastic end to the night, but no--there was still more fun to be had. All the kids got in the wagon, and Paul pulled them around the yard.
The kids all got so incredibly dirty, and we left Sara's house so late, that we had to give them all baths beforehand. Here is Sam and Gracie in the tub. His first bath with his first girlfriend.
All in all, a wonderful night.
This post has taken me several days to complete, and as of tonight--11:20 p.m. EST on July 20th, I am finishing my blog even though I should be sleeping. I think I am trying to postpone the restlessness that will ensue once my head hits the pillow. Sam is getting surgery in the morning: Because of frequent, intractable ear infections and fluid in his inner ear, he has to have a bilateral myringotomy with tube placement--a very standard procedure, but for some reason I am a little apprehensive. Maybe it is the general anesthesia. Maybe the fact that I have to wake him up at 4:30 a.m. to nurse him one last time before his surgery as he can't eat or drink after that. Maybe it is the anticipation of the experience in a waiting room where I have a hungry 10.5-month-old and I can't even entertain him with snacks. There goes my entire bag of tricks. I will update with the good news.
