Say A Little Prayer

We started potty training the Tomester today. 'Nuf said

ch-ch-ch-ch-changes and digressions

Then....

and now....

The cemetary trees have grown. The family has grown. The number of pixels has grown. The amount of chub in my cheeks (both pairs) has grown. The distances between have grown. The appreciation for sharing and making new memories has grown. Does that mean this goofy bunch of Stratton Brats are growing up? Probably a little, but hopefully not too much.


You might well wonder why we take our family photo at the cemetery. It could be in memory of Craig's childhood tendency to projectile vomit whenever we drove by the cemetery. Perhaps it's to showcase Craig's Eagle Scout benches of cementness. It might even be for the lovely views of Pine Valley and Toquerville Hill (or whatever it's called... I always thought of it as the man-in-the-mountain's torso or the hill with the comet shaped black rocks. anywho...) Maybe it's the oddness of the location that allows us to be our naturally odd selves and thus take a decent picture. It might be any or all of these reasons, but the most influential reason is because Mom said so. Who needs more of a reason than that?

Just for the record, Levi's third date theory constitutes him coming over to my house on my birthday on the open invitation for friends and family to come celebrate. Furthermore, when it is considered that I spent time talking with a cute lawyer guy in whom I was also interested, it becomes obvious that it was in no way a date. It was a visit. He even gave me a paperback copy of Artemis Fowl because he wasn't sure enough of our new relationship to merit giving me a hardback gift. Of course, that was the evening of our first kiss, but that is entirely beside the point - though it does say something about Levi's wisdom in choosing a paperback. If a paperback got him some lip action, where would a hardback have gotten us? Scandalous! Speaking of birthdays, mine is next Tuesday, just in case you all were planning a wonderful birthday surprise and wasn't sure which day to free up. ;)

J.A. Rich Commemorative Memorial Trophy

Technically this is my second post on our blog, although my wife will disagree. She also disagrees as to whether or not our third date actually was one.
Anywho, getting to the gist of the post I have officially been eliminated from contention for the most coveted of trophies in fantasy football fandom, The prestigious J.A. Rich Commemorative Memorial Trophy. It's been a bitter pill to swallow, but there's always next year to hone my fantasy football coaching skills and inspire my players to greater heights.
This was the first year of existence for the Bump And Run league, with six teams in contention for the J.A. Rich Commemorative Memorial Trophy, although none of us knew it at the initial draft afternoon. Draft day found me in high spirits as I put together one of the better teams, on paper anyway, of anyone. 13 weeks into the season saw injuries, infighting, jealousies and poor clock management decisions relegate my team to a record inconsistent with their abilities and desires. However I held out hope, we (Moridin) as a team barely pulled it together to squeak out just enough victories to claim the final playoff spot. As I told my team that week, anything can happen in the playoffs. It was a valiant effort but all in vain as d-enz caught all the breaks and bouncing footballs. We left the field with our heads held in shame. Next year, next year.
Now some other lucky coach is going to hold aloft the J.A. Rich Commemorative Memorial Trophy in triumph much to my chagrin.
Here for your viewing pleasure are a few pictures of the J.A. Rich Commemorative Memorial Trophy. Who is J.A. Rich? you may ask.Well that is another post in and of itself.

OK, I'll tell it now seeing as I may never get back on again or at least not for another two years.

It all began on a cold fall day in the beautiful college town of Logan, Utah. My cousin and I went to Deseret Industries and there spied a fantastic black shirt, with cool anchor buttons, and the name of one J.A. Rich boldly placed above the left breast. I desired to own that shirt, but had no money. So my cousin promptly snapped it up and bought it for himself, dang you Jared. He proudly wore it and everyone would ask him who J.A. Rich was. As we didn't know it made it all the better. And so to commemorate that individual who anonymously donated to the DI, he will live on forever in ceramic that incidentally was purchased at the DI.

The J.A. Rich Commemorative Memorial Trophy!

Crying Her Pants Off

No, really... she actually cried her pants off... thrice. And, silly me, I always thought it was just a figure of speech.

Is it wrong to want her to do it again? I'd really like to catch her in the act, just to find out how she manages to lose her drawers in despair.


Ah well, it's a good thing she's such a likable little stinker, who BTW enjoys partaking in pink pomegranate plunder. Indeed it was a highlight of the warm fall weather to watch her roam the yard with her piece of pomegranate, picking out arils and imagining to her hearts delight.

a real woman

Today's random thought is this: it takes a real woman (even if she's fictional) to pull off pink shoes with a red jacket. Chalk up another reason why I want to be Mary Poppins when I grow up.

Princess :o)

Last night Tomy decided that he'd rather not fall asleep. *Argh!* So after hours of suffering through the whinging monotony, I decided to let him help reorganize the foto files on our computer hoping that the tedious task would wisk him away to dreamland. Well, he still didn't fall asleep, but any aggravation I had been feeling evaporated when, as we came upon this wedding picture, my son shouted with joyful recognition, "Jesus Christ! Mommy Princess!"

How could I stay upset with a little boy who is excited to see Jesus and thinks his mommy looks like a princess? Not possible. And so it was with a much sweeter kiss and tender tuck-in, that I and my son soon drifted to sleep.

Oh - well, that would have been a nice ending to the story. Unfortunately, the evening ended with Tomy crying as he was returned to his bed and then getting a spanking for waking the baby who refused to be comforted because she was left crying in her detested crib while I cleared the pile of unfolded laundry off my bed so we could both get some sleep. *Waaahhhhh!* Perhaps this is a case in which a good memory is unpardonable.

magic

The holiday season is so full of favorites that it's hard to pick a favorite favorite, but for the minute (11:30 PM) my favorite favorite is my Christmas tree. I used tonight's solitude to redecorate unassisted my tree whose bottom half had *mysteriously* gone awry. As my task was accomplished and lights were turned on, I was reminded of the mystical magic that is a glowing Christmas tree on a quiet night. I'm not sure what it is, but some intangible wonder fills my heart with the warmest of seasonal joys when I gaze into a glimmering tree. Oh! and that feeling is as familiar and dear to my soul as the anticipation of Christmas Eve. And so I felt the desire to share this quiet moment, to make record of the contented sigh, to bask in the holiday quietude before morning comes and life's irritations, holiday's bustle, children's curious hands find me as undone as my tree will inevitably become. Isn't it funny-fantastic how these short moments make it all so well worth the while? It's nothing short of a Christmas miracle!

Starting the Season on a Festive Note

Send your own ElfYourself eCards

As Tomy says, "People funny guy!"

my new hero(ine)

I am a knitting-phobe - what I've seen of it boggles my mind. Thus it is that I happily stick with my crocheting skills. Of course, I used to think crocheting skills were beyond my limited physical prowess (yeah, clumsy), until I had my crocheting epiphany. In college I discovered that all you really needed to know to start was how to chain - very doable - and now I feel confident tackling any number of projects and stitches. Recently, I decided to help my knitting epiphany along by borrowing a round knitting loom from my sil Rayn. Children can make hats with them, so why couldn't I? I borrowed the smallest loom thinking I could make leg warmers - that hasn't happened yet - but I have made this really cool ball of wool... out of a ball of wool... hmm, pointless?.. maybe.

Isn't he a CUTE little model? Anywho, while blog surfing for patterns I came across this gem of a blog: rostichery. Not only did she have the pattern to make these adorable leggings - that I absolutely HAVE to try - she is a seamstress after my own heart. She is all about fudging and no-fuss sewing and has any number of cheating tutorials; meanwhile, she still has real skills that even my amazing mom would enjoy. So, after spending a number of gleeful hours perusing her blog, I thought I'd pass on the joy.

Uninvited Guests

We came home one day to find these two moving, crowing lawn ornaments.


Their visit seemed harmless at first, but then I stepped in a pile of some of this...


... and then they refused to leave.

They are a couple of the worst unwanted guests ever! Besides arriving unexpectedly, they don't clean up after themselves, they're up at all hours making a ruckus, and they're constantly eating but never bother to chip in with an egg or two. Roosters! I tell you! They need to take a cue from the hummingbirds, doves, robins, finches, pidgeons, etc. that come, eat, nest, and fly away without leaving droppings the size of ICK! all over the place.

Okay, so it is pretty danged funny to watch Tomy and Hazel chase them around. Watching Levi and two other grown men try to chase them down the street was also priceless - the neighbor even busted out his bb gun! (Yes, this neighbor is a retired fellow - further proof that boys never grow up ;o) and never grow out of their love for guns of all shapes and sizes.) It is also very sweet to see Hazel's ears perk up when she hears the "roostah" crow, returns his "cock cock ..... do do," and asks "whe' go?"

a social experiment

I find it intriguing that people have such different methods to their parking madness. It's something I used to take for granted - that my "perfect parking spot" was the same as others' "perfect parking spot" and hence, it is always taken :o) Since I've been married, this Saddie-centric theory has been blasted to smithereens!

Levi's parking hunt always leads him to the soonest get-away position spot. This may be *miles* away from the door, but that's okay as long as he doesn't have to go back up or down another row.

I have experienced several changes to my parking preferences. For example, when I was first learning to drive a stick I tried as hard as I could to park directly in a spot that required the least amount of maneuvering to escape. It was also beneficial if it was far from any other living being to avoid stalling with an audience.

In college, it was all about location, availability, and timing. I always had my favorite spots that I knew I could get to at specific times for specific classes - though sometimes it required a few laps around the lot.

Nowadays, I have to keep the little children in mind, so we park as near as we can to both the building and the cart corral or sidewalk. All it took was one trip to the store with the baby to realize that I needed the cart to heft the newborn, carseat, and groceries, but that returning the cart left the baby alone and vulnerable. (yeah... I just ditched the cart... something I generally wouldn't do.) Nearness to the store is mostly only important if there are no carts for hauling or there is inclement weather to escape.

So, that's the method to my madness, at least for now. I wonder what my parking priorities will be when the children are older? Hmm...

So, why do you park where you do?

the blog blahs

I have half written many post, but everything just sounds blah. And so I am forcing myself to publish this, just because. Perhaps someday when life settles down (ya, uh-huh, right) my brain will think something more than half thoughts and I will post productively again.

P.S. Happy 1st birthday my sweet, rowdy baby girl. You deserve a special post on your special day, but it just ain't happenin'. [Insert something sincere and poetic about the love I have for you regardless my writers block.]

Heralding Monarchs

Thursday we found these.

Danny Kay is excited to have new royalty to entertain while Emma Peel prepares for their arrival by reading up on King Arthur.

By Saturday we had one of these green treasures, by Sunday we had two.

If you can't tell, this is a picture of a hazy jar filled with 2 chrysalises, milkweed, and caterpillar poop.

How much longer until the monarchs grand arrivals? Only time can tell. Until then, we'll continue watching this little clip over and over and over and over ...



LOL: Tomy says that the little girl in the background of this clip is Asher.

Fruit Loop Diplomacy

It's oft been said that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. Evidently, this holds true for little boys, too.

Tomas has been displeased with Hazel's presence ever since she stopped being a teeny baby and became competition. His violent and mean attempts at removing the attention stealing interloper have met with only limited success since Hazel thinks he's the bee's knees and follows him endlessly.

I've been at my wits end wondering and praying for a solution to the constant fighting. Who knew it could be solved as easily as this?


Since the Fruit Loop Accord, the children have repeatedly been seen playing together and peacefully coexisting in close proximity. There has also been a marked reduction in the number of reported injuries and violent incidents.

"Falls Park"

So, I didn't know that Sheep's Bridge or Sheep's Ridge or Sheep Bridge or however one calls the place, was officially called "Falls Park." Is this a new thing or is everyone in denial that that's what it's called? Okay, so who really cares? Not I. I'm just rambling... so get to the pictures of the cute kids already!

Hazel and Daddy liked splashing everybody and I've got the mud splattered shirt to prove it. Hazel also kept trying to run around in the water by herself, only to frequently avoid drowning.

Tomy was rather intimidated by the water and had to hold hands the whole time. (Yeah, he even felt the need to wear his floaty swimsuit! Okay, so he mostly wears it because it a has a fishy on the front.) And thus it is that he preferred being near the shore playing in the very stinky, sticky mud.

All in all, we had a swell FHE playing in the water and the mud, with the sticks and the crud.

hope springs eternal

Pictured is one of the four rose bushes that I bought last Fall for Levi to give me as an early birthday present. They sat, slowly withering to dust in their water-forsaken buckets, until the Spring when they finally found their rest in the comfy front planting bed. The promise of regular watering coaxed even the most "mostly dead" of the bunch to green up and bloom. It was a miracle!

pathetic, it's true :(

Unfortunately, their caregiver is a rather lackluster one, and the regular waterings soon petered off into a distant memory. The valiant little rose bushes kept trying to keep on keeping on, but eventually had to give up a few of their pretty green leaves and shoots to conserve their strength, until they looked more like a conglomeration of dead twigs, than beautiful roses.

new growth :)

Later in the Summer, that unfaithful caregiver repented her negligent ways, and rewarded her faithful plants with a week of wetness and weeding. Oh joy! The roses are coaxed to life once more! Isn't it a wonder that with good roots and care, life and beauty can spring from even the most desperate places.

soap boxin' about the idiot box

As I was reading up on baby milestones today, I came across this bit of info.:

If your [child's television] viewing falls into the average range, she will have spent 15,000 hours glued to the set by the time she graduates from high school - about 4,000 more hours than she will have spent in school. (Ha, not to mention the time spent watching television in school.) If her viewing isn't carefully screened, she will, research suggests, have witnessed 18,000 murders, countless robberies, rapes, bombings, and beatings, and more casual sex than you could imagine. She will also have been the innocent target of 350,000 commercials trying to sell her (and through her, you) products of sometimes dubious value. - What to Expect the First Year

The thing that kills me about this is that, even if you are screening the things your children view, not only on TV, but also the internet, video games, etc., they are still subjected to vast amounts of smut. Just try changing the channel without catching a glimpse of inappropriate material! This can only work to offend and desensitize a child's sweet spirit and normalize immoral acts. (Yeah, who needs to hear casual, normalizing references about pornography on supposedly child friendly channels?!)

Another thing I find interesting is that good people, when asked about the appropriateness of a movie or video game, say something along the lines of, "Oh, it's okay. The rating's just for the violence." JUST for the VIOLENCE?! Why do we rarely consider media violence to be bad when murder, according to Alma, is second in seriousness only to denying the Holy Ghost. To paraphrase a sign I saw on a friend's TV - if we shouldn't do something, we shouldn't be entertained by someone else doing it. I could go on, but I'll let this Ensign article I just found do my soap boxing for me.

Now, I know my children don't have a perfect, junk-free media experience. There's no way to completely protect them - well, short of living exclusively in a bomb shelter. I also know that I allow them too much time in front of the screen. I also know that I'm not completely ready to do away with our idiot box; it's just too easy and entertaining. My compromise is that we have no television service; just videos, mother-controlled youtube, and specific downloaded or streamed television shows from the internet. I feel this limits our commercial intake and makes it easier to monitor our viewing content and duration - plus you can buy 50 videos off ebay for the cost of one month of cable! Yahoo!

First Day of School

This is my handsome little boy all spiffed, sparkling, and ready for his very first day of school. In preparation for the BIG DAY we met his teacher and visited his classroom on Monday; met his bus driver and aide on Tuesday; and chose his outfit, packed his backpack, and had a father's blessing on Wednesday. This left only eating, bathing, and dressing on the list of things to do this morning - oh, and a whole lot of waiting!

Waiting at the window (a full hour early) watching for the big 'ellow bus

"My bus!" ... umm, false alarm

He finally relaxed a bit when I told him it would be a whole Strawberry Shortcake movie before the bus came. Lucky for the Tomester, the bus aide called and said their route had changed and they'd be by half and hour earlier.

As for me, I've felt very excited for Tomas to ride the bus and go to school knowing that he'd thoroughly enjoy himself. It wasn't until I was standing on the lawn watching the bus door close with my sweet, brown-eyed boy inside, barely peeking over the window sill, that my heart lurched with the ache of letting go. Oh! I managed not to cry as the bus started down the street, but only barely.

Later, Hazel and I met him at school to walk him to class. He was happy to see us and got a little clingy, but having his very own cubby and a puzzle to do quickly erased any thoughts of mom. And so I ducked silently away, leaving him to meet new friends and learn new things under the care of his new teacher.

The question now is - what will Hazel and I do while he's gone? Whatever the answer, I know we'll thoroughly enjoy ourselves too.

amen!

Tidying up (yet again!) the mound of books that my baby girl had so graciously piled on the floor, I came across this little gem of a quote. It is the last line of The Swiss Family Robinson and is found at the end of this moving passage:

The anchor has been weighed, the sails unfurled, the flag run up to the masthead, and a rapid wind promises speedily to separate us from our children.

I will not attempt to paint the grief of my dear Elizabeth - it is the grief of a mother, silent and profound. Jack and Ernest are weeping bitterly, and my own grief is, I must confess, but badly concealed.

I finish these few lines whilst the ship's boat is waiting. My sons will thus receive my last blessing. May God ever be with you. Adieu, Europe! adieu, dear Switzerland! Never shall I see you again! May your inhabitants be always happy, pious, and free!

Oh if only, if only...

Thank you David Wyss for taking the words right out of my mouth, though I knew not that they were there.

by their fruits...

So... if I only post on this blog of my thoughts but rarely, does that mean I rarely think?

another project?

Yippee for new tile! Now to get it installed.

Here's hopin' the final product looks as great in reality as it does in my minds eye.

Tomato?

What does Tomy want to eat? Amato, of course!
for EVERY meal, snack, etc.

tomato - potato, Malawna - LaDawna, b - d
such are the confounders of many a child

At least this one's a happy confounded child

... unless he doesn't get his amato.

Tomy and Hazel Play Favorites

These are a few of their favorite things:

Tomy and Hazel with Henry and Hyrum.





Tomy and Hazel putting money in Grandpa Gube's ginormous change jar.





Tomy and Hazel splashing at St. George's town square.

growing up and out

Lasterday I found my husband putting a 6-9 month shirt on my 3 year old, so I figured I should maybe, just maybe, sort out the clothes drawer - pass on the small, scrap the stained, make room for the new. What a laugh! There was only the one 6-9 month shirt, but there were plenty of 12 and 18 month old clothes to do away with. I did have to keep two 18 month pajama short/shirt sets because the thought of losing them had Tomas in inconsolable tears of despair! How could I resist the tear streaked and sobbing, "I sad Mom. My shirt a me!" and the repeated attempts to return the pjs to the drawer.

This episode caused me two funnies and one sigh. It's funny ha ha that my big boy still fits (barely) in those 18 month pajamas while my little 9 month old girl will probably be in 18 month clothes before winter - they are so opposite in the developemental world! It's funny hmm that we can get so emotionally attached to emotionless material things - things that are familiar, dependable, and comfortable. *Sigh* It's not always easy to grow up and out of things we love - sometimes it's exciting and worthwhile, but sometimes it's disappointing and sorrowful.

Growing Pains

Hazel is 9 months old! I can scarcely believe it! She is much too gung ho about this whole growing up thing - she isn't very much my little baby any more. Not only has she developed four new teeth, she has also decided to start walking and talking!! And while it's super cute when she says "uh-oh" and "go," it's also quite distressing. This week she got her bangs cut to keep them out of her eyes, and has started wearing little piglet-tails (her hair is still too short for full scale pig-tails) - so sophisticated!

This is her new do before and after naptime.
Isn't she the queen of funny faces?!

Oh, my little cutie-patootie, I sure do love you! I guess I'll just have to be extra careful about cherishing what fleeting time I have left of my little Hazel-baby.

An Outing in the Park

Zion had a free day on Saturday and the Farnsworths were kind enough to invite us to join them on their trek to Emerald Pools. Of course, I jumped at the opportunity to spend the day with Levi and other adults, but perhaps I should have checked the weather forecast before jumping so quickly as it was HOTTER THAN HOT! I think we narrowly avoided frying our brains!

These pictures were taken as we rested at the middle pool. Unfortunately, Tomy's smile didn't last much longer as we started the last leg to the upper pool. I think the .3 mile marker was put there as a cruel joke! If it weren't for the promise of the cool wading pool, I think we might have curled up in one of the few square feet of shade afforded on the sandy last leg and died!


=

Luckily the upper pool was as blessedly chilly as my sun-bleached brain imagined and we had so much fun splashing around, we didn't manage to take any pictures. Scenery was taken in, sand castles were built, logs were ridden, poliwogs were chased, and enough water was soaked up to take us back down the trail. Wisely, we returned via the shady route and managed to preserve the majority of our remaining gray matter. The ice cream also helped erase the negative effects of the blazing sun - that three dollar cone was worth EVERY CENT!


All in all, as this smile attests, we a had a very fun time. Tomy LOVED riding the "bus," Hazel appreciated all the "oh, she's so cute!" comments, Levi enjoyed the banter, and I welcomed all the sweet smiles Eli sent my way. Wrap it all up with a nice picnic at the park and we had a perfect summer day! Thanks Kevin, Paulette, and fam!

P.S. Isn't that little boy just cuter-than-cute?! I'm glad this picture is what will be remembered and not so much his incessant, three-year-old, whining. :o)

ramblings of a crazy woman

So... compared to many, I tend to blog a lot. It's my way to stay sane. No, really - I'd have to merit finally getting over a major hump in depression recovery to the blogosphere. I was still really struggling with not feeling like I had a supportive network of friends or a needed best friend. Of course, I had friends, but not like I needed - all the best candidates either lived far far away, had busy lives of their own, and/or couldn't quite give me what my crazy self craved. And frankly, I wasn't in the kind of space that made making friends very easy - desperate, unstable, closed-in, hypersensative, and incapable of taking the kinds of risk necessary to building healthy relationships and open lines of communication.

Then along came the blog - my own personal miracle - it was exactly what I needed. I could have a social life without necessarily having to be social. I could see family and find old friends. I could put whatever I wanted out there without any real risks or expectations (okay, so I really like comments and I wait for them like Christmas morning - but my world doesn't crumble around me if the comment box stays empty.) I could work at having a life again while living vicariously through the lives of others. I could slowly practice at being relatively normal in an atmosphere where people are almost always positive.

Meanwhile, it put me in a position to focus on the positives in my life as I framed my world for others to see. It provided me a chance to write and to feel the accompanying edge-of-your-seat, mind-tingling, confident sensation that was my almost constant companion through the school years. It gave me the chance to complete a small task well in a world where the thought of cleaning the kitchen well was too daunting a task to even start and hence even more defeating. Yes, it brought me a much needed measure of accomplishment and gratitude.

Yeah, I could go on and on about how blogging has saved my sanity... but I'll stop here because I CAN! and still feel happy about myself and life in general. What a lovely thing to be able to say honestly! Thanks again blogosphere and all you who venture therein for giving me the space I needed to recover a large measure of my happy, confident self!

"warn!"

This post has nothing to do with a notification of danger, potential harm, or risk. No, this is my son's way of telling me he wants something *warm* or microwaved. The real quandary is - why would he want me to microwave his mandarin oranges for breakfast this morning? Perhaps he knows something that I don't about the culinary wonder of warm oranges? I'll probably never know.

Pearly Whites

We've been having all sorts of dental adventures these days: I finished getting my root canal reworked last month, Hazel busted out her second tooth on Thursday and the third tooth today (with a couple more on the way), and Tomy got put under to get his teeth worked on Friday. Woo hoo!


As indicated by these charts, Hazel is a one-sided snagglepuss (a very cute one, at that!) and Tomy had something fixed on EVERY SINGLE TOOTH (including 3 pulpotomies and 4 shiny caps.) They've both been pretty brave about all the pain and have cute little smiles to show for it. Let's all pray that Hazel's teeth have more enamel than Tomy's!

Who Sees These in Trees?

Our trees are full of many things: pecans, hummingbirds, robins, doves, etc. but our neighbor's tree takes the cake!
They've got goats in their tree! (Is this anything like having bats in one's belfry?)

We've been the goats' neighbors for four years now, and this is the first year I've seen them climbing the tree. It has been so FUNNY to watch the little teeny kids figure it out and try to best each other.

The tree climbing goats are much older now. I've been trying to get a picture of them playing in the tree since they were first born this Spring, but they keep running away from my camera! I finally captured the white goat doing her "king of the mountain" routine, but it took a drive-by camera phone shot to get one actually climbing in the tree!.

Now, I don't know about you, but the tree goats never fail to bring this Sesame Street classic to mind.



It also makes me think of the rare and graceful push-me-pull-you, who, according to Dr. Doolittle, has very nimble feet from climbing up and down Mount Everest. Random, I know, but that's just how my mind works.

And Then There Were None

Our babies hatched and grew and grew.

Then came June and the largest flew.

The smallest didn't want to be all alone
so within the week, he too was gone.

Oh empty nest, I've the bittersweet blues!
But wait, here comes some happy news!

A brand new nest with eggs therein,
and within a month we have new twins!!

I wanted to post these pictures since early June, but the month was CRAZY busy fun. It all worked out in the end though, 'cause now we have cute new birds to show. We just noticed their sweet little beaks poking out of their nest yesterday! What fun!

A Camping We Will Go

Our trip with the Darrington Family to Panguitch Lake was ever so much fun. We only made it up for 24 hrs. but that was enough to refresh my spirits and enjoy some family bonding.


The mountain was beautiful, cool, and green - a nice change from the triple digit weather in La Verkin. These were both taken in the meadow behind our campsite.



Tomas was in seventh heaven having cousins to traipse about with, and thanks to Taya's mothering instincts, I was in seventh heaven too! She took very good care of Tomas and Hazel, and made one excellent (not to mention cute) scout leader.

Hazel loved all the attention and dirt. She also appreciated that Brother was being occupied by others. This freed mom up to hold Hazel exclusively and also served to keep Hazel safe from Tomy's rambunctious attentions (that was the nice way to say pestering.) What a cute little goofy girl!



Thanks family for feeding us, loving us, and fixing our Jeep after I managed to mess up the front bumper! In other words, thank you all for a great day! It was wonderful to see you!