Beautiful America

I have to say, there's nothing like a road trip. I grew up traveling by car across this great nation and I can't get over how she leaves a little of herself embedded in your heart forever. I was struck by a combination of nostalgia, wonder, and awe. I'm so proud to live where beautiful landscapes are driving distance from me.

Rain in the Rockies

Cascade Falls, Ouray Colorado

These beautiful flowers grow wild along the trails in Ouray, CO.

Poppies in Ouray, CO

Just outside my window on our way from Durango.

Petroglyph - looks like it's in an eye socket

Bandelier National Monument, NM

Bandelier National Monument

God having a little fun with the mountain in New Mexico

Bandelier National Monument

Colorado jeeping road


Aspen woods


Alta Mining town outside Telluride, CO

Bungee-Tramp (no, I'm not referring to myself)

Man, it's been awhile and my fingers are creaky at this (not to mention my brain). I'm not sure how any of this will translate in a blog setting, but I have a few stories from our latest adventures to share. With pictures, of course.

Where to begin...

I guess I'll start with my most told story of late and just add pictures. Believe me, this is a story that is better backed by photos than told in real life - there's no way to give it physical perspective. But, thanks to my loving husband who so graciously held the camera still through his fits of laughter, we have historical evidence of my bad choice. Here, let me show you.

Bungee-tramp. It's a 'ride' you can take/do at the Durango Mountain Resort (old Purgatory) in the summer. Basic principle is easy - rig a person to a harness attached to some strong bungees, tighten it based on their weight by adding or subtracting bungee straps, then bounce them on a trampoline until they shoot into the atmosphere. Bungee-tramp.

All four of us decided to have a go at it. Watching Pearce and Cole go first, I was really excited and not at all nervous, although I should have looked more closely at their faces.
My husband, the crazy dirt bike rider was even unsure of himself!

Check out the guy who is bouncing him - while we are screaming like little girls, he's without a harness, jumping 10'-15' into the air while talking on his cell phone.


At any rate, my turn was next. Let me stop and give you additional information. There were two other bungee-tramps going next to ours where little kids were doing backflips on the thing. So, Chad and I were yelling, "Do a backflip!" Pearce and Cole both refused by shaking their heads emphatically.

Ok, back to my turn. I realized that this was my shining moment. It was my chance to show my kids up and come out the cool mom who tries crazy stuff. I asked the girls bouncing me how to do a back flip and they told me it was sooooo easy. All I had to do was throw my head back and tuck my legs. From here it's just easier to show you.

On my first attempt, I clearly didn't tuck the legs:

On my second attemp, I remembered the legs and look! I'm over!!!! Showing up kids - check.

Maybe I should have waited to get cocky - no one told me I needed to extend my legs to get out of the flip. Half way down in the wrong position - still upside down.


My legs are definitely extended, but gravity has already won the battle. I'm not coming out of this flip.

By the way, I doctored the last three pictures to keep this posting G-rated - I'm actually sporting quite a 'plumber crack' in this sequence of events.

Finally, I submit the following picture - proving that Chad has laughed himself out of camera focus. This is where my weight, gravity, and the harness all collide in one harmonious moment I like to call 'The Rib Killer.'

Did I show up my kids? In their kind words, just the trying was proof that I did. But in the process I created a bruise that extended across my abdomen and managed to bruise the insides well enough that I still can't pick up my three year old without it taking my breath away.

Still, it wasn't bad until I tried the stupid trick. Before that, I was amazed at how thrilling the ride was - fear, exhilaration, the feeling that I was truly flying at moments - it was awesome. I recommend the experience, just not the back flip.

Why Mom can't be a rocker (at least not right now)

Usually, I put the pictures at the end of a post. Tell the story first and follow with the funny visuals. But for this post, I need you to look at my son. He looks sweet, no? Sensitive? Intelligent? Yes, in fact, he does. So how did the following conversation happen?

I emerge from my bedroom with my best 'Praise Team gig' outfit. We are singing at a church in Itasca. We sing Christian rock, so I'm dressed pretty casually - jeans, t-shirt, cool shoes (I know they're cool because my Dad hates them). I think I look alright. So, I jump in front of Pearce in my best power-guitar move and...

Mom - "So, do I look like a rocker?" (sticks out tongue like Gene Simmons)

Pearce - "Not really..."

Mom - "What? I totally look like a rocker."

Pearce - "No, I'll tell you why after you get home."

Mom (a little concerned now) - "Well, if you tell me now, I can go change."

Pearce - "It's not something you can change.....easily."

Mom (panic setting in, smile fading) - "Are you telling me I'm too old to be a rocker?"

Pearce - "No, it isn't your age."

Mom (panic stricken) - "Pearce, are you about to tell me that I'm too fat to be a rocker?"

At this point, Pearce puts his hands up and shrugs his shoulders in a gesture that means "yes, and that's why I didn't want to tell you until you came home."

*sigh*

From this point, I have choices in where to go with the blog posting. I can tell you about the conversation we had when I was pregnant about how sensitive women are regarding their weight and how we use words like "showing" and "glowing" instead of "huge" or "enormous."

I can list the MANY rockers who enjoy their dessert as much as I do - Meat Loaf, Notorious B.I.G., Winona, Aretha Franklin.

I could recount to you the agony I had ordering at Dairy Queen that night after we played at the church in Itasca and how I denied myself the Blizzard that called to me.

But, I'll end with this - I might need to lose a few pounds. Not to be a rocker, but to catch Pearce the next time he calls me fat.

Kimono Rose by any other name...

I received a wonderful, wonderful gift from my parents last week. A gift card to Central Market. What an absolute joy it was to walk through the store and buy nothing but splurge items. Olives, ginger beer, a chocolate raspberry tart, linen spray, etc.

I walked by the 'smelly stuff' (so named by my boys) and stopped once again at the Kimono Rose section by a company called Thymes. I've smelled it a thousand times at every salon or boutique that carries the Thymes products. The Kimono Rose scent makes me happy. Could I bring myself to spend $30 of my precious gift card on lotion? Even a lotion as delicious smelling as Kimono Rose???

I weighed my options and went for the $5.00 package of Kimono Rose bath salts. I felt satisfied that I'd splurged, but not gone crazy.

So, yesterday was a wonderful, rare Saturday. There was no baseball, no soccer, no church, no NOTHING. We all just hung around the house for a change. When the little boys were down for their nap, I decided it was my chance to try out the bath salts.

I drew the water as hot as I could and poured in the salts. Kimono Rose wafted all around me - enveloping me in its addictive and decadent smell.

I grinned because I rarely get to go to the restroom alone. Stone follows me everywhere, even offering to flush for me BEFORE I'm done with my business. Cade fills my day with joy, but also lots and lots of moist stuff that can't be named in the same posting as Kimono Rose. And here I was. Alone. With a book. Heaven.

You see where this is headed, right?

There's a knock at the door and Chad walks in with an undeniably cute baby. He's still sleepy, and he's giving those 'just-woke-up' smiles that are my favorite. I'm not sure how the suggestion came up. I don't remember saying yes nor taking my lovely hot water and adding cold to it - but the baby ended up in the tub with me. And of course, the big boys started yelling at each other from another part of the house. So Chad leaves, and I am sitting there with my cherubic baby, who is splashing and giggling. I think, "this isn't too bad" as I feel the cool water getting warmer.

In my world, even in my place of sanctuary, Kimono Rose by any other name is still baby pee in my bathwater.

Likeness

People are always telling me that Cade looks just like his Daddy, and it's true. I don't deny it at all.


However, for the sake of humor, I submit evidence that Cade looks like many people (none of which are me).

For instance, the character actor, Jonathan Banks:

Or the great and iconic Robert De Niro:

My personal favorite, Billy Bob Thornton in Slingblade:

Red Skelton:

Yes, even Orsen Wells:

So, see? He's really quite the chameleon.

Am I bitter that my baby looks nothing like me?

Maybe.

A little.

But that's not the point.

Really.

Behave as though they are watching...

I've been meaning to blog this experience for some time. I'm still pretty affected by it. Let me explain:

My friend KT and I recently made a trip through the Starbucks drive through window for a refreshing coffee beverage. When I pulled up to the ordering speaker, I was greeted by Invisible-But-Overly-Friendly-Barista. She said hello, inquired about our day, and asked what we'd like.

I'm not sure about the details, but the ordering process became funny and KT and I were laughing and Invisible Lady was laughing. Then, I moved the hair out of my eyes and my invisible friend on the other end of the speaker said, "Flip those bangs, girl!"

*stunned silence*
*Dori and KT look at each other with wide eyes*
*inner monologue - "Can she see me?"*
*crickets chirruping*

Finally, I ask her how she knew I had flipped my bangs and she laughs and directs my attention to the teeny, tiny camera above the speaker.

There it is. Capturing me. I have one of those flash-back movie montage moments where every sarcastic eye-roll, every nose-scratch (I swear I wasn't picking!!!), every screaming-at-my-kids moment is brought back from the past and played in my brain with agonizing detail.

The question in my mind wasn't "How many times have I behaved badly without knowing I was being watched?" but rather, "How many other drive through windows have these cameras?"

I wish I could say I lived every day knowing that God's little camera is watching me. I wish I could tell you that I never rolled my eyes at the person taking my order. I wish I could tell you all the hidden camera locations (*smile*). Alas, all I can tell you is that when I'm ordering anything from Starbucks, or Arby's, or McDonald's, I put on my finest Dori and I smile for the camera, whether or not it's there.

If only I would remember to apply that concept to my entire life.

A good day

Today was a good day. Stone and Daddy went fishing by themselves for the first time. Cade and I met them at the lake for a late afternoon dinner. What great weather for something like this! Of course, I took 14,857 pictures.

I learned a few new things today.

Stone can cast and reel for H-O-U-R-S. He is more and more like Chad every day. Maybe that's why he's such a mystery to me. He whined when I told him to come get dinner. So, I tried to sweeten the deal and asked him to come get chips and cookies (a sure bet at my house). He still threw a fit that he had to quit 'fishing'.


Stone has a very, very short temper when it comes to technical difficulties. The line would get would around the end of the pole and...well, all hell broke loose. Crying, screaming, throwing. Again, very much like his Daddy (who will hopefully never stumble across this post).



I learned that Cade is coming into his personality even more and he's going to be a charmer.

He's either going to be a politician:


Or a rock star:


I learned that I have a truly huge mouth. I thought this picture would turn out cute, but I just look like I'm going to eat my child.

I learned that I'm jealous of my children's eyelashes!


Ahh, yes, it was a good day for lessons. A good day to be outside. A good day, indeed.

Trifecta

The other night at Praise Team practice, my old boss (who is also our sound board guy) was telling us about his bad, stressful week. I shuddered inside because I used to share those weeks with him. I thought about my worst, most recent day...

Stone is potty training, and doing a good job, save for the poop - he just doesn't want to go #2 in the potty. So, I hear him yelling at me from his room and I go to investigate. I find him totally naked and the smell of poop assaults me. Where, I ask myself, are his underwear???

They are upside down on our favorite color book.

And they are stuck to the book with poop.

Now, I forgot to tell you that I'm holding the baby during this. As I bend down to get the underwear with my fingertips, the baby throws up on me. I'd use "spit up" if it applied. My baby went Linda Blair on me. And I was wearing a v-neck. So, now I've got a baby in one hand and a poop-filled pair of Diego underwear in the other hand and baby vomit is running down my front - into my bra, onto my stomach...

I make a dash for the kitchen to throw away the soiled book and undies and grab a paper towel to clean myself.

Let me backtrack a moment here - though I'm sure it will give the next part of my story away. We keep a potty seat in the kitchen to make it easy for Stone to go whenever he wants.

As I'm running into the kitchen, I clip the potty chair.

It isn't empty.

So, now I'm standing in the kitchen with a giggling baby in one hand, poop drawers in my other hand, baby vomit on my front (which has reached my waistband), and my right flip-flop (flip flops being important to your mental picture) and foot soaked with toddler pee.

Lessons learned:

1. Don't leave favorite books (or toys or pets or baby siblings) on the floor during the potty training stage.

2. Clean out potty chairs as soon as pee-pee happens.

3. A good sense of humor (and the promise of a good blog post) is imperative to parental sanity.

4. It was still better than a day in a cubicle.

Learning to eat is messy business

Confession time. Potty training and solid foods are two of my least favorite developmental milestones. I feel a tremendous amount of anxiety when my kids are learning to use the potty (like the not-going-out-of-the-house kind of anxiety). Also, I can't stand feeding a baby solid foods when they spit most of it out onto their belly. Especially when they are teething simultaneously. That means there will be drool mixed with spit-out food. A combination that I, once again, think belongs to something out of a John Carpenter movie.

Thankfully, I have an 8-year-old. And he thinks that watching a baby eat solid foods is the funniest thing since Spongebob split his pants. Instead of stressing, I just invite Cole to come watch, shuck the baby's clothes, throw him into a plastic containment center (i.e. high chair), and get the camera out. What results is good for immediate AND future laughter.

Here are some pictures of the last two 'sessions'.

Happy start to a feeding session...mom forgot a bib

This expression made me laugh

Again, he is seriously concentrating on eating.

I'm pretty sure he's using the force to get the spoon closer to his mouth.
Doesn't he look like Quado from Total Recall?
This is the face you make after gagging yourself with a spoon.
(Imagine him laughing like Popeye)

Look for my next post - Potty training is messy business. (Just kidding)