Does anyone else think of Alicia Silverstone when they say, “As if…”?  I do.  That movie is timeless (right, Shakespeare?). Before I get to the point, I’d like you to see what a cow looks like after it’s been slaughtered and drained (of blood, naturally).

I walked over just as they were severing the head. Then Lacy came over and I taught her about beefy realities.
“Hamburger comes from cows that are dead and chopped up. Does that make you sad?” I asked.
“No,” she said, “But if hamburger comed from dead horses that would not be good.”
Ah, Lacy. You make me want to buy you 5 pretty ponies. Who taught this kid to love horses so much? My dad, that’s who! And I love it.

Last night, I turned my computer on to just zone out for a few minutes and a few HOURS later, I got up. That doesn’t usually happen. Usually I spend my time online in the morning, then I only log on and off to check something or snag a recipe… I have a purpose. But last night I didn’t. I finally poured myself into bed at midnight, and by then I couldn’t sleep. My mind was whirring with ideas of things I could do. The reason? Someone got the idea to create online pin boards -a place where we can surf the web and sort of “tear out” the pictures we like and “pin them” on our boards.  My walls need this, and why not?  They’re made from pallets.

image found at hometowngirl.typepad.com)

And look at this amazing kitchen idea:

And what about this light fixture?   It’s just what I need to replace the beige hanging lampshade over my table:

Those are just a few pictures from my Do It Yourself Pinboard. I have a pinboard for recipes, style, home decor… anything I want.
It’s maddening! And I need to stop looking at crap because I know have about eleventy billion ideas and I refuse to REST until I can get started on them! Yesterday I worked on a topiary (never made one before) until I ran out of glue sticks. I can’t believe I let myself run out of glue sticks. What kind of woman am I?!

Want to know a secret? The back side of the topiary is completely bald, muahahaha…
I’ll finish it later. Right now I’m going to post a recipe for homemade hamburger buns in the recipe blog and the How To on my topiary in the Craft blog. I made that topiary from crap around my house, you know. I’m feeling pretty scrappy about the whole thing.

If you or anyone you know would like an invitation to join Pintrest, let me know and I’ll getcha one. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.

You know that old saying, “It takes a village to raise a child”?  Like most old sayings, it’s positively spot-on.  That’s why I love old things so much. They’re tried and true! Lately, all of the parenting has fallen on my shoulders which I don’t mind all that much on account of my having no other job and on account of my husband earning all the money so I can just stay home. Wednesday afternoon, when I had a house pack full of kiddos my husband came in the door at noon -the only part of the day that got a little crazy because I was fixing 7 little lunches all at once -and told me he was leaving for Texas.
“When?” I asked.
“Now,” he said.
“Where are you going?” I asked, stunned.
“Out of state. I told you that.”
“I can’t hear you over the kids,” I said, “When will you be back?”
“I don’t know. A couple days, I think.”

A hug and a kiss and BLAM-O! He was gone. I spent the next two days not cooking, not shaving, and managing my time very unwisely indeed. It’s hard to stay on track when you don’t have to stay on anyone’s schedule.
For a few days, the kids and I were left alone together. I don’t mind it all that much, really. But after a couple days of being stuck in the house (what was the deal with the week of freezing winds?!), I had to call in The Village.
Up we went to my parent’s house with a rented movie in tow. How would I parent without my village? The truth is: I don’t know. I should be more brave, and part of me yearns to relocate somewhere far, far away. Like… Texas.
Then I wouldn’t have my Village Family and I would HAVE to fine tune my stiff upper lip.

When my husband returned late, late Friday night everything went back to normal. Saturday was completely FILLED with yard sales, picking up bountiful baskets, buying up some of our garden plants and flower bed flowers at the feed store, attending a reception, snagging a sitter, and then attending the Adult Stake Conference Meeting. Sunday morning, we rolled out of bed and got ready for the morning session of Stake Conference. We were about 10 minutes late to church (as so were about 13 other families with kids under the age of 5), and as we were circling the parking lot to find a spot… my husband was called into work.
Because I had no idea he’d be leaving me, I didn’t equip myself properly for two solid hours of church with JUST me and my two kids. Sitting there in the back with the two kids went well for about 5 minutes. Then they started to get restless. I tried to keep them entertained and reverent and just when I started losing control, a good friend -who happened to be sitting in front of us -reached back and handed my kids some quiet games.
Ah, my village!
When they would finish with one, they’d hand it back and she’d give them another. She did all this while fielding three kids of her own, and I wanted to shout HALLELUJAH! from my seat. Too bad that’s frowned on in the middle of conference.

After about an hour, the kids were each on the verge of a melt down, so I decided to take them out and walk the halls. Just as we rounded a corner, they spotted their Aunt “Lily” (Lillian) and they literally RAN away from me and into her waiting arms.
“Come with me,” she said to them, “There’s someone over here you’ll want to see.”
Within minutes, both of my kids were with their grandma and grandpa. Next to them was more of my village: brother, sister, aunts, cousins, uncle, grandma, grandpa…

I wasn’t able to keep my kids next to me at all for the rest of conference, and I always feel bad about that. I want them to stay with me. I don’t want to place the burden of raising my children on anyone else but myself (since it isn’t a burden to me. Well… most days, anyway). But my village is wiser than I am. They’re more patient, more loving, more kind. They listen better. They don’t spank. Their arms are always wide open. They teach and they play. They give and they give. And they give.

Children need a village.
On Mother’s day, after our great rib feast, my aunt took my son home with her. I meant to write her a thank you note, but I haven’t yet. What she didn’t realize is that no one really ever takes JUST Trent. Usually it’s Lacy that gets taken and Trent stays behind. She’s older, so it makes more sense. She’s potty trained and she keeps up a conversation like nobody’s business. Trenton always wants to go, and on Mother’s Day he was just finishing up a week of absolute naughtiness. Seeing him drive away alone with Aunt JuJu was just priceless. When I picked him up, he was stock full of stories -most of which I didn’t understand in the least -and he spent the next week behaving so well that I wanted to wrap my arms around my aunt and KISS her! How Trent needed that! I couldn’t give that to him! Leaving the house with just mom is all right, but leaving the house with someone like JuJu?! Better than Christmas!

On the last night of our being alone while my husband was away, I put a movie in for the kids to watch before bed. They batted their wide little eyes at me and asked me to please sit and watch with them. I sat down and thought I’d sit through the previews and then hop up to do dishes or something. I thought by then they’d be into the movie and would forget they asked me to sit with them.
As the previews ended, I got up and pressed the “play” button on the menu and then started to leave.
“MAMA!” They both cried… I turned around to see their big eyes locked on me.
“Watch with us,” my daughter said. I took a deep breath, smiled, and walked back to their bed. They squealed with delight and the minute I sat on the bed they were all over me.

How would I do it with just me? I couldn’t. Even if I moved so far as Texas, a village would find me. Children have a way of creating them.
Probably because they’re so irresistible. Even when they’re playing in a empty trough at a feed store pretending to be rabbits…

Maybe ESPECIALLY then.

They’re not really faded.  There just a handful of pictures I took with my phone and then forgot about.  Do you want to know how many pictures I have on my phone?  Roughly 2000.  Poor phone.  I don’t think it ever dreamed it would get sent to a mother.  I bet it hoped for a savvy working girl who wore sleek pants suits and heels.

While we’re on the subject… don’t you think someone should design a cell phone that caters to mothers?  It should be waterproof.  It should be coated in a protective sheer sheet of some kind that stands up to make up smudges and flour. It should be capable of holding an astronomic amount of pictures because, hello?  Moms take pictures of everything.  It should be a limited smart phone, meaning it should have a few smart phone functions but it should NOT have facebook.  Mothers who don’t use facebook mobile are free from the guilt it induces.  It should be lightly scented and have a little bling to it.  Is that too much to ask?

Back to the pictures.  I took this one while my husband and I celebrated our 6th anniversary.  We’re coming up on 7 years.  Cuh-razy!

Come on. How funny is that? It was right by some train tracks, but I still busted up like a boy in junior high when I saw it. I did have to stop there. But I didn’t flash anything.

These pictures are of a different sort. I want to tell you a little story. I was using a form of birth control that made my body think every month that it was pregnant. But the thing is: when my body thinks it’s pregnant, it goes all out: nausea, tiredness, and best of all… my belly pops out! Just like a real pregnant lady! At first it would pop out for only a few days and then ta-da! It would go back in, but in the past few months it has popped out for a good three weeks. I couldn’t handle it anymore because none of my pants fit and I hated being tired all. the. time. Having your stomach stretched out just wears you out. I snapped this first picture because I thought, “Well if I am pregnant then I’ll want a picture of this.”
Also, I most always thought I actually was pregnant.

Check that out! Ba-BOOM!
Two short weeks later, I snapped this picture at a boutique. I was trying on a shirt and I wanted my husband’s opinion on it. He was in the car outside.

I bought the shirt, by the way. And the shirt that goes under it.
Isn’t that a little crazy? I’m hoping I’ve put an end to this cycle because it was driving me batty. Every month I’d wonder if I really was and every month I’d buy my weight in pregnancy tests and every month my husband would tell me not to… but come on! If your belly played tricks on you like that, wouldn’t you be going a little batty? It’s like a constant game of Is My Life About To Radically Change…. or NOT?!

Okay, that’s that. My kids woke up absurdly early today and they’re already fighting like mad. I actually woke up at 5:30 AM to find my daughter dishing herself up some ice cream. I took it away, of course, but she hasn’t forgiven me for it.

Today I’m going to be doing leg exercises. I’ve got to get them warmed up for the HUGE annual community yard sale. 21 yard sales!   You should come! I’ll need a yard sailing buddy.

 

My daughter is EVER getting into crap.  Ever, ever, ever.  Her brother has never quite been able to match her, er… talent (tenacity?)… for mess making (PRAISES!) and to be honest, I think that’s exactly the way she wants it.  For years, we’ve been trying to keep her out of the DVDs unless we’re there beside her to show her how to treat DVDs with the respect they deserve.  If we’re not right there and she’s bored, she’ll help herself every time.  The aftermath is a true constant in my life: mayhem, scratched DVDs, a myriad of empty cases (a few of which are whimpering in pain from having their paper covers violently RIPPED from their lazy “protective” plastic covers), and a scattered pile of uncovered DVDs sitting on the floor in front of my daughter.

It never makes for a particularly close bonding moment for us.  Every time it happens, I get mad.  I swat her on her bottom and sent her to bed, like a good mother would.  A few days later, we’d go through it all again.  A few days later?  Again!  We’re both getting rather good at our parts.  A few weeks ago, I think I was really missing a certain kind of passion in my character.  Adding it has enhanced the overall performance nicely.  And really, as much as I complain about our little routines, I think I secretly enjoy them.  I must!  Or I’d do something that would really put an end to them!

My husband, on the other hand, doesn’t share my sentiments and in a fit of glorious passion -It nearly moved me -GROUNDED Lacy, who had two little ankles absolutely swimming in DVDs. The verdict? No movies for TWO DAYS. To which I replied, “DAD!  WHY?!  YOU DON’T LOVE ME!”

And then we all went to bed early because we all had to get up early to make it to the city for doctor visits.  And in my blissful trip to the city -grand host of my favorite fabric store -I completely forgot about last night’s incident.  Even as I pulled into the driveway and unloaded my happy bag full of CUTE (soon to be aprons!) fabric, I was in Heaven.  My husband hugged us all goodbye and headed to work.

He turned in the doorway and said, “Remember…today is Day 1 of no movies.”  He pointed at the girl.   My jaw dropped, my eyes widened, my bottom lip quivered.

“But… DAD!” I whined.
“No movies,” he repeated.

Validate me: isn’t he being a little unreasonable?! I mean… I didn’t even get a WINK of notice! Then *BLAM!* my alone time and sanity was chucked out the front door by the ONE MAN who promised NEVER TO DO EVIL UNTO ME!
Wretch that I am, I will sack up. As best a woman can, I mean.

Anyway, he did tell me to try going outside and doing yard work with the kids. So fine. I’ll show him! Have you ever tried to do yard work in the wind with two little kids begging you to turn over rocks so they can hunt “matado” bugs but end up finding CENTIPEDES instead?! HUH?! Bloody ridiculous.
But I’ll do it.
And then he can help me with the dishes when he gets home. Cackle, cackle.
Now… who wants to keep the kids out of the movies while we wash enough dishes to make dinner?

Mother’s Day did something unexpected for me: reaffirmed my belief in what I’m doing.  Lately, I’ve lost sight of that.  I’ve been impatient, intolerant, short tempered, and really really tired.  Yesterday was a different story -due in large part to the two amazing Sunday services I attended.

Yesterday, the kids and I truly enjoyed each other.  My husband was able to come home from work for maybe 45 minutes before leaving again, and as much as I love having him home, I was grateful for the opportunity to hog my children.

We made no bake cookies.  What can I say?  After my post yesterday, I got a hankering for them.
The kids were really good about cleaning up after themselves (despite the cocoa on Lacy’s nose), and the house stayed pretty much clean all day which I think is a HUGE factor when it comes to my patience.

The girl doesn’t take naps anymore. She vetoed the whole idea a couple of years ago. I instituted “rest time” instead. She has to lie down and watch a movie for at least an hour during nap time. Lately, though, I haven’t held strict to the rest time rule. Sometimes she’ll rest, but sometimes we’ll use that time to play while the boy sleeps.
Yesterday after Trent fell asleep, I told her we would make strawberry jam. She jumped with excitement.
“Go put the strawberries on the counter,” I said.
She did. Then she went to work “making” jam. When I went to the kitchen to make jam, I found that she had taken a butter knife to the strawberries.

And her mouth to the better part of them.

“Honey,” I said, “I don’t think there’s enough strawberries left to make jam.” Her head dropped to her chest.
“I thought you would be so happy about I already made da jam,” she said.
“I AM!” I said, immediately repenting that I hadn’t been initially enthused about the strawberry shortage, “You did a GREAT job!”
“Thank you,” she said, looking up. But her head went down again, “But I thought you would be mad about because I ate too much strawberries.”
“I’m not mad,” I shrugged, “We just can’t make jam now.”
“But we can get some more…” she said.
“Not today,” I shook my head, “It’s way too windy outside. Maybe tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry about eating too much,” she said.
“It’s okay, Lace. We just can’t make jam.”
I told her we would crush up the strawberries anyway to see how much we would have. We needed 4 cups of crushed strawberries.
We got one.
Needless to say, a trip to the store is in order today. Thank goodness strawberries are in season!

Trenton woke up while we were crushing berries, and he snacked on a few blackberries. Later that night, we huddled together and watched:

The kids loved it, and I realized that I don’t remember the last time I sat and really watched a movie with them. I’ve always got my hands filled with a crochet project or something of the like. But last night, I just watched with them.

After our bedtime routine, I told the kids they could watch one more movie (hey, while Dad’s away… we get to play). Trent threw a tired-boy fit, so he went to bed. But Lacy stayed up. I fed her warm milk and crackers, and she asked to watch The Lone Ranger.
It didn’t even take ten minutes for the warm milk to kick in.

(Do you like her hair? She doesn’t like having her hair braided. But she likes having “stones” in it. That’s what she calls braids. If I ask her, “Do you want me to braid your hair?” She says, “NO!” But if I say, “Do you want stones in your hair?” She’ll say, “YES!” I don’t know where she came up with “stones,” but I love it. She loves it when I braid her hair at night while it’s wet because she knows that when she takes the stones out in the morning, her hair is all “spidery.” Gotta love that kid.)

Last night I went to bed and thought about two things:

#1) I can’t seem to live up to my expectations.

#2) One day, my kids won’t need me for everything.

Let’s start with #1.  I’m really being too hard on myself, and I need to lighten up -I just don’t quite know how.  I want my house to be clean, my waist line to be a few inches smaller, three meals a day on the table, my stupid wreath to be done, the laundry folded and put away (all the time, of course), my scripture reading done daily, and I’d also like to be really active in family history and temple work.  OH! And can I please write my book?

At the end of the day, when I’ve accomplished about .5% of that list, I lay in bed and beat myself up for everything I’m not.  I know it’s foolish -I’m not a total idiot.  But there it is.  I know the system needs to change.  I just don’t exactly know how to muck myself out of it just now.  I’ll try harder today and take comfort in the fact that I’m doing okay.  Waistline aside, I’m doing okay!  I think I might even just push everything out of the way and write my book for a couple hours.  That always helps me out.  If ever you’re feeling incomplete, do that one thing that makes you feel like you’re a success -worthwhile -and truly, TRULY happy!

Onto #2: I’m feeling bittersweet about this.  Last night, it was more bitter than sweet.  I got to thinking about Heavenly Father.  I’d love nothing more than for him to just TELL me what to do.  All the time.  I’ve even gone so far as to tell him that.

“Heavenly Father, I don’t want to go on faith today. Can you please just tell me what I need to do?  I don’t want to grow today.”

He didn’t.  To his credit, of course.  But yesterday I was on the receiving end of about 1,000 “MOM!”s.  And by 8:30 pm, I lay prostrate on the couch, completely paralyzed.  I couldn’t move.  But that was no excuse for me, my reader.  I had to get up and take my contacts out.  I had to get up and get the kids in their PJs.  I had to get up and put dinner away.

So I did.  Then, after our nighttime routine of scriptures and prayers, and deposited myself back on the couch and I realized something.

NO WONDER Heavenly Father never tells me every little thing I need to do!  It’s downright exhausting!  My children, at this point in their life, need my help every step of the way.  They can’t get a drink or poop without my help. Welllllll, hold on.  They can get a drink.  But if they want a drink from the SINK and not the TOILET, they need my help.  And yes, I prefer to give it.  They can’t eat meals without my help.  Every step of the way, I’m there.  When my husband took me to a Bed and Breakfast in Flagstaff, the owner asked me if we had any children.  We told him that we had two toddlers.  He smiled and said, “At that age, you spend about 5% of your time loving them and the other 95% saving their lives.”

How true.  And don’t get me wrong: I absolutely treasure these days.  I do!  But that doesn’t mean that they are easy.  That doesn’t mean they pass by like nothing.  Sometimes they’re long and hard.  Sometimes I’m completely paralyzed by the end of the day because I’m needed by everyone and everything.  What a blessing that is!  But what a trying one it can be at times.

Today, Heavenly Father, I’ve learned my lesson the hard way.  I promise not to ask anymore for a play-by-play of my life.  I promise to just LIVE it.  And by “LIVE” it I mean I’ll cast off about 50 pounds of guilt today.

There.  That oughta help my waist line considerably.

I went through the pictures on my phone yesterday and I found this one.  I had to share it.  I walked into Grandma’s living room one Sunday and found Trent watching TV with Grandpa:Too bad Grandpa’s not sporting his cowboy boots like Trenton!

I’m still working on that wreath. I actually took a day off yesterday, and I’m hoping my motivation will return today. Today just MIGHT be the day I finish it! The thought makes me a little giddy. To finally have it done would be heavenly.

Because I’m running out of movies to stream on Netflix, I started streaming a cooking show called “Pantry Raid.” There is one BIG downside to being a stay-at-home mom. It’s simply the ability to manage time all on my own. I realize that this isn’t a bad thing for most mothers. But for me? It goes something like this:

I need to do the dishes, then I’ll start on my wreath. OR I could work on my wreath and worry about the dishes later. What movie should I watch? I’m sick of movies… OH! Here’s a cooking show. I’ll stream that. Wow! Look at that! He just made a three-course meal out of that woman’s pantry. It looks amazing! What’s in MY pantry?

Three hours later, I’m left with an unfinished wreath, half-done dishes (with more dishes made dirty -thanks to my impulsive cooking), and a dinner that I’d like to be proud of -but I’m not… because it’s so thrown together it’s rather sad.

Everyday isn’t always like that. Just some days. Yesterday, for example.
HOWEVER, one of the great things about being a stay-at-home mom is that I can cook whenever I want to. I absolutely love cooking, even if I don’t love it everyday. My husband came home a little early yesterday and thank goodness. I told him what was on the menu for dinner. He wasn’t all about it, so I flipped on “Pantry Raid” and didn’t even make it through one episode before I had the courage YEA EVEN THE CONFIDENCE to wreak havoc on my pantry.

And we all ate like Spanish Royalty. Disregard the paper plate…

May I suggest “Pantry Raid” to you? If you’re in need of kitchen inspiration, it’s well worth looking at.
Here’s their recipe for pork chops.

Aaaaaaaand if you’re looking for some sewing inspiration, I HIGHLY suggest you check out this lady:

She makes all of her own clothing. While I’m not that motivated (I wish! And maybe someday!), her style is absolutely adorable! I found my fashion icon, ladies and gents. I found someone who loves to dress like an old lady as much as I do. She pulls it off much better, though. Probably because she makes her own clothes and they all fit like they should.

I LOVE the dress on the left. I want to make my own. Right now. But I need to do the dishes…

As I made cinnamon rolls yesterday (on account of the chilly turn in the weather), my daughter played under my feet.  I wasn’t paying much attention to what she was doing until she started singing, “Follow the Prophet.”

At least, the words she was singing went to the TUNE of “Follow the Prophet.”  Technically speaking, it was totally jibberish.  I looked down at her and saw that she was leading three sock monkeys.

“Honey, are you teaching them the song Follow the Prophet?” I asked.
“NO!” She turned to look at me, shaking her head in frustration, “Just don’t bother me! I’m teaching them MY song!”
Oh, well.
Pardon the intrusion.

Tonight I’ll be teaching HER about cleaning. Little does she know -she’s about to get hit with a chore chart.
I found a fun link that lets to customize your own chore chart. I made Trent’s with a Veggie Tales theme and I made Lacy’s with a Princess theme.
I think it’s only fair my husband gets one. I wouldn’t want to leave anyone out. He likes Sponge Bob, right?

CLICK HERE to customize your own chore chart!

This morning, we were able to assemble with members from the Stake to work on the restoration of Brigham City. I was more than excited to get in on this because I love anything historical. Restoring a pioneer community? Sign me up!

While I was cleaning out excess mud from between the sandstone walls we had made, I had a chance to talk to President Gene Hancock about his interest in the Brigham City Restoration.  He said it started about 20 years ago.  They’d tried to get the project off the ground by funding it through bake sales and the like.  It didn’t get them far, and soon President Hancock got discouraged.  A few years ago, the project resurfaced on account of his acquiring the lease to the land from the city (water right included -huzzah!), and things are really moving forward.  Want to meet him?

He’s a busy man. And though I could have snapped a picture while we were mucking mud out of the walls, I didn’t exactly feel like getting mud all over my cell phone. I also just wanted to finish mucking. I gotta say: it’s a little addicting.

About a year ago, I took my little flock of Beehives to a museum in downtown Winslow, AZ. I snapped a few pictures of the inside and then went home and googled around. Whilst googling, I stumbled onto THIS SITE about the Brigham City Restoration.
If you’ll click on that link, you can read more about the project and see a few more (and better) pictures.  Here’s a small excerpt taken from the website about the history:

“In January, 1876, Brigham Young summoned to Salt Lake City four brethren to lead missionary parties into the Little Colorado River area which had been explored by Mormon scout Jacob Hamblin during the the 1850’s and 1860’s where he frequently visited the Hopi and Navajo Indians as a Church missionary. Brigham Young instructed his four captains to assemble a new generation of pioneers to settle in Arizona Territory (A.T.). This group of missionaries, 300 souls divided into four companies, was perhaps the last of the self-sufficient American pioneers to seek new homes in an unsettled territory of this nation.

These hardy missionaries left Utah for the Sunset Crossing of the Little Colorado River to plant their faith in a new land. Jessie O. Ballinger and his initial company of 35 men, some with their families, together with the other three companies captained by Lot Smith, George Lake, and William Allen, set out in February of 1876 and arrived at their new home sites the following spring. This became the first LDS Church Stake in Arizona and was called the “Little Colorado Stake” which was the 21st Stake of the Church.

Although Brigham City (Ballinger’s Camp) is the principal subject of this restoration, the stories of Obed (Lake’s Camp), Sunset (Smith’s Camp), and Joseph City (Allen’s Camp) are mentioned because the histories of the four settlements are inseparable.

Brigham City, a fortified Mormon settlement on the Little Colorado River near the City of Winslow, Navajo County, Arizona was established iln 1876 as a United Order community and abandoned by the Church in 1881. In June of 1878, the site was placed on the National Register of Historic Places. The site is culturally, historically, and architecturally significant and has great potential for interpretation an public visitation.”

There was a crew of people building:

And a crew of people building:

And a crew of people building:

(my son was trying to take my phone away from me while I was taking pictures. That’s why these pictures aren’t the best. As my son would say, “I’m leally sowwy.”)

There was also a crew of people burning, but I forgot to take a picture of them.  Again, leally sowwy.

This one belongs to me:

So do these ones:

My son spent about 30 minutes crying because I wouldn’t hold him. In my defense, I DID hold him. But after awhile, I just couldn’t anymore. When he wouldn’t stop crying, we finally put him in the beautiful lookout point of the fort and let him cry away.

That part of the fort was built 20 years ago -it was meticulously done. There was perfectly crafted small windows that were replicas of what used to be there 130 years ago.
Here’s a wall that the pioneer built over 130 years ago. It’s still standing! Can you believe that? They made it using sandstone and mud. As in: mud from the ground they walked on.

This is all amazing unto me.

Their lives were so completely different from ours.

It’s surreal to walk where they walked. It’s even more surreal to watch big tractors haul rocks, dirt, and logs around. I bet the pioneers would have killed their fattest calf for a tractor.
Their three fattest calves, actually.

That port-a-john has nothing to do with history. Disregard.
They sent us on our way after lunch:

We feasted on hot dogs and Robert Pugh’s Potatoes. Anyone who understands the beauty of Robert Pugh’s Potatoes also needs to know that on JULY 23rd, we’re going at this again. And even if you’re only in it for the potatoes, it will be well worth it.

Between all the stubborn screaming and the tantrum throwing, I get glimpses of my REAL son.  I imagine the teenage years will be something like this -a shroud of hormones cloaking my REAL child.  I’ll burst through that shroud now and then, I know.  That’s what will keep me holding on.  Of course, I could be wrong.  The teenage years could be a breeze.  Of course, I could be right.  Only time will tell.

For now, I’m going to soak up every gosh darn minute of his “real” self.  Even if it crawls out of bed and onto me around midnight while I make roses out of pages from a dictionary.

 
Moments like that energize me -recharge me. Today will be better because of it. It’s given me the push I needed to step out of my Overwrought Mommy Cloak and let my kids see the real me.
Here’s to a day of eating hot dogs, playing on the floor, and singing the chorus to Banana Phone over and over because we can’t always remember all the lyrics.