FREAKIN' OUT!!!

Ok, so this picture! It totally faaarrreeeeeked me out, I mean, I didn't realize that my son was thrown so precariously into the air. This is what happens when Momma sneaks down to the port-a-jon with her roll of toilet paper, hand wipes, Purell, & a flashlight. Sheesh, that's why I hold it. Things like this happens when Momma is outa sight (that, and the porta-jon things? Ewwwwwwww!).

Here's a pic of us camping (yes, again) and you should appreciate being able see it and the blog you're reading, because coming back to civilization has taken quite a toll on me. I had a hard time answering the phone, I couldn't type, burnt the toast, just sorta FLIPPED OUT, ya know...just like always.

So here I am, home, typing away after yet another fun-filled day of taking care of other people's kids. I don't mind it so much, but I have a new girl and we have to establish the rules, enforce them, learn her likes/dislikes, all that jazz. She's cute and sweet and nine years old ("Geez, I'm not a little kid" she informed me today) and she's the most difficult child I have had the pleasure to watch. Why, you ask? How could this darling little blond stick of cuteness be difficult in any way? Well, because she's SMART. I mean really, really, smart. She read 500 books last year in school. F.I.V.E. H.U.N.D.R.E.D. My hubby hasn't read that many books in his LIFE!!!

So we have this super-smart girl, a 3 year old and an almost 2 year old. And she gets bored very quickly. When the little ones go down for their nap, I thought it would be fun to send up our tent in the living room. Oh, and it is soooo fun, for about 15 minutes. There we are, sittin' in the tent, and she says, "So...whatcha wanna talk about?" "Um," I sophisticatedly reply, "How about we look at the stars?"

Needless to say, I have to bust out with the learning kit that Gila Man bought for his N.A.U. class and try to trick her with money questions . But ACK!! She cannot be fooled by money. So I jump to patterns...piece of cake. Rubber band puzzles. Done. Counting tenths, & hundreths. Will I ever challenge her? Then I see it. The little bag of........fractions. She is going into fourth grade. She has done some of this, but not all of it (chuckling menacingly) so I go all the way. I present her with 1/6's, 1/8's, 1/3's, and 1/16's.

And she is fooled!! I WIN I WIN I WIN!! HEE HEE HEE!!! What? Like age matters when you're celebrating a well won victory?? BOOOO-YA!! Sheesh, people. Give me a break. Math is, like, my total, absolute, WORST subject and it was sooooo cool to actually know more about a math subject than the person I'm with. So she's nine years old, so what? Did I mention that she was a SMART nine-year-old?

She simply looked at me, basking in my glory over the fraction pieces that I was now doing my victory dance on, and said "You are the weirdest babysitter I've ever had" and walked out of the tent. I wonder if her mom will bring her back on Monday.

Once Upon A Time...

Oh, well. This looks all jacked up, but I tried to do it differently this time and naturally, I goofed. Here are some of the pics I took while camping on up at Riggs Lake...I swear, if Mr. B had any idea of what heaven looks like, this is it to him. He got out of the car and DID NOT STOP until we put him to bed. It was great!

There's Gila Man, Mr. B. and I, all sitting on a log in the shade after enjoying breakfast, and on the rock is "Iron Will" (in Pink) as I will call her, because that's what she has (I would love to watch someone try to take candy from THIS baby!!). She's 6 months younger than Mr. B, but can still kick his tush. Noah was trying will all his might to get in the lovely lake of murkey water, but had to be accompanied by Dad, which spoiled all his fun. We did let him play in the tub of water next to the fire that night, as he was coated in dirt and tree sap from running amok with the other children that arrived that day.

Oh, yes. The children. Remember how I had stated that the twin sister was coming up who had 4 kids under the age of 7? Well, I was wrong...SOOOOO WRONG. She also brought her cousin who had 3 kids - and they are all under the age of 5. No, really. I'm not kidding!!! That made a total of 9 children under the age of 5 running around in the woods and trying to sneak down to the lake and throwing weeds in the fire & therefore making a thick, stinky, smoke and drinking half a pop and spilling the rest so we were attacked by ants and gnats, and screaming bloody murder whenever someone tried to prevent them from climbing down the 5 ft stone wall encircling our campsite. The twin also brought her dog that HATES her brother's dog so we had the little weiner dogs barking and nipping and whining at our feet for hours.

I guess I have to admit that I'm a little bit of a control freak. Gila Man says "You're just a little bit compulisive, sweetie." Is there such a thing as a little bit compulisive? I doubt it, but if so, that gives me hope. This situation was competely out of my hands. It was hard for me to deal with. We (by "we", of course, I mean "I") dealt with it by going on long, leisurly walks together, just the three of us. Holding hands, enjoying the smell of the forest, watching Mr. B. get totally and completely exhausted so he would take a 3 hour nap when we returned. It was very nice.

Also got a little fishing in too. Caught 2 brown trout, but gave them to someone who had already caught 2, as the cleaning station was closed and it just wasn't worth the hassle. That was our trip, but there's more to come of course. That was just a quick overview. I'm just recovering enough to post this and recount it for ya'll.

*Singing* A Camping We Will Go...

A camping we will go, a camping we will go, hi-ho-the-dairy-oh, a camping we will go!!

So my husband and I have been planning this wonderful vacation where we will drive all over Southern, Northern, and Eastern AZ, then to Colorado, and end in Utah. But his boss called and said it had to be cancelled. TOTALLY BOGUS, right?!?! Well, let me tell you....we were hoppin' mad (and that's REALLY mad in our house), I mean we were pretty ticked off and all, until I said, hey! You've got a coupla days off this week, let's all go camping! By all I mean myself, my husband, and our 20-month-old son. Yikes! Are we nuts or what? But we have food and a coupla ponchos, what more do you need in the woods near a lake? Oh, yes...we do have a tent, almost forgot about that.

Obviously, we aren't really big campers, so we are going with some friends of ours that are. Big time campers. They've got the whole menu planned, dutch oven dinners, full breakfasts, I mean the works! Except they have a 13-month-old daughter. And a dog. That barks. A LOT. But not too bad, right? They'll all have fun. I mean we'll all have fun. Riiiiiiiiight. Then the bombshell...my friend's husband's twin sister is going to join us. And her 4 kids under the age of 7. Without her husband. AAAAARRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!

*Humming to myself to keep from going insane at the thought of this impending camping trip* A camping we will go, a camping we will go, hi-ho-the-dairy-oh (oh, that just makes is sound so pleasant, now doesn't it?), a camping we will go...

My Little Book Worm...

Oh, my little bookworm...
Every kid has their favorite story. Mine was Green Eggs & Ham, my husbands was James & The Giant Peach, my best friends was Where The Wild Things Are.

My son loves books. He has since he was a baby. See, I took this Children's Literature class when I was pregnant with him, and this class showed me where to look and what to look for in a good book. I learned about the different types of genres, the different themes, lessons, rules, and just...stuff...about so many different books. Did you know that there is a different sort of Cinderella story in EVERY culture? If you don't know who Jim Trelesse is (I don't know if the spelling is right on that), then you should look him up and know that he has really turned the world around when it comes to reading to children. It used to be nice for parents and teachers to read to kids. Now it's REQUIRED!!!

Needless to say, I learned how important it is to read to a child. That class and the fact that when I was 13 we moved into a house that had been built and previously owned by Amish people. That meant there was no TV or cable hookup. N.O.N.E. So we had a TV and a VCR. That's it. So, we read. A LOT.

Then...I took this highly infuencial class while pregnant with my first child. When he was 5 days old (and finally started to nurse), I started reading to him. First, it was the instructions to my new breast pump (sorry guys). Then I read all the pamplets about bringing home a new wonderful baby to him, hoping he would catch on...he did, of course. Then came the Parenting magazine articles, the Babywise book (that saved my life), and bits and pieces out of What To Expect When You're Expecting. Then I started reading baby books to him. One of his favorites was Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See? In fact, that was his very favorite. Until now. Now he runs around humming the tune "The Wheels On The Bus Go Round & Round", but he only hums the "Round and Round" part. It would be pretty cute if he wasn't so facinated with that book and that song. When he hears someone honk their horn, he hums the "Round and Round" part. Same goes for when he hears a baby cry, or sees a wheel...ANY wheel. He goes to bed with a book and seems to wake up with a different one every morning, but I am so glad he loves books and not video games. I think they would be much harder to sleep with!

Oh, The Shame...

Well, here's my snazzy cute PINK crown I got to wear for my birthday! Isn't it just, soooooo....hideous?!?! This would mostly be because I have a deep hatred (a word that I don't use lightly) for this color. Why? Could it be that I was the only girl in my family and therefore I was forced to wear it? That every accessory for every Barbie or Cabbage Patch Kid I had was some shade of puice? That year after year (long after I was hating the 11th grade) when school shopping time came around, I STILL had to get some sort of pink shoe. But I'm not bitter about it, oh no! Not when my husband comes in, stands over my shoulder and says,
"You're putting that on your site? I mean, c'mon! There are cold, hungry, lonely people in the world. At least you had money to buy shoes."
So here's a pic of me in this cute crown, sitting in a comfy chair, getting ready to open more gifts that some kings get buried with, and looking at a cake the size of one of those starving countries (more like a big slab of humble pie). Sheesh, Gila Man...way to spoil my fun...
Have a Happy Fourth!!

IT'S MY BIRTHDAY!!!!

Wow!! It's my birthday! I love my birthday (my friends say that's a sign of mental illness, and I have to say they're probably right!!). I am not scared of my birthday. I love it; the anticipation, the fun, the food, the friends, the CAKE!!! I have resloved to eat cake once a year from now on. Because cake for everyone's birthday? Hello!?! Can we say fat pants? And who wants to wear fat pants in the summer? So I am really lookin' forward to my cake tonight.

Because my husband had to work today (no he did not take the day off...this should count as a holiday or something...sheesh, I'm thinking about dumping him! The nerve!) my best friend Sarah (yep, same name...even same initials! Scary huh?) came over this morning and made me my favorite breakfast, which I have also resigned to eating once a year, biscuits and gravy! Oh, the yumminess! And there were balloons, and cards, and a cute (*cough* hideous *cough*) pink princess crown that I HAD to wear or I couldn't eat the yummy breakfast. How much fun was that?

The fun doesn't end yet! I get more royal treatment tonight when I go to dinner at my parents place! I love my birthday, it just never ceases to be fun for me...Until my brother reminds me how close to 30 I am. But I really don't care. REALLY, because when I start to look like I'm 30 and act like I'm 30 I should be about 45 years old, and I am totally ok with that!

What's That Falling From The Sky??

So, I'm driving home from picking up my prescription (I have a sinus infection caused by allergies caused by the incesant blowing dust out here), and the strangest thing happened. First of all, there were clouds in the sky...enough to block out the sun - can you imagine the sun not shining out here?...and they weren't white, they were dark grey and BEAUTIFUL! So that was hard to deal with. Then, as I'm driving, these little specks of water start hitting my windshield. I'm thinkin', "Gee, the sky must be fallin", but I think if the sky were falling it would make a dent in my car or something.
So I call my husband and tell him what going on and he asks if my windshield wipers were on. Now, the only time I use the wipers is when I get a particularly nasty bug on my windshield and have to try to get it off with the spray that simply manages to smear gutst all over the place so I can't even see anymore and the wipers make that rasberry sound as they travel to and fro.

Um...anyways...I suppose I might be exagerating a little about the whole thing, but if you don't live in Southern Arizona, you just don't understand the importance of rain. While in line at the store (to pay for my prescription) a lady told me that her horses FREAKED out because they had never heard the sound of rain on the tin roof of their corral before.
So along the lines of freaking out, I would like to let you know how my 19 month old reacted to seeing rain for the first time ever...
As I was getting Mr. B ready for bed, I could smell the rain coming, and when I heard it falling outside his window, I jumped at the chance to have a little fun. I was changing his diaper right then and thought, "Who needs a diaper when we're going to play in the rain?". So I run out on the front porch with my nakey boy in my arms and say "Look! Look at the rain!!" He took a look at that water pouring off the roof and said "What is dat?" "Rain!!" I exclaimed. He promptly buried his head in my shoulder and clung to me like a little spider monkey. "But Sweetie, LOOK!!" I said, "RAIN!!!" but he would have no part of it. I decided that I could not let my child be afraid of the rain. No way. So I ran out on the front sidewalk and hopped up and down a little. He looked up, buried his head in my shoulder and started to whimper. I went back and set him on the covered porch (though he protested) and ran back out on the sidewalk, doing a little "rain dance" for him. I jumped up and down in the (teeny tiny) puddles, waved my hands in the air, and twirled in circles so he could see how much fun I was having out there. My jammies were now wet, but by then I was having so much fun that I didn't care. He looked at me and edged closer to the sidewalk. Then took another few steps until he could put his little, pudgy hands out touch the drops of cool water as they plummeted from the roof. And then, he smiled. A big beautiful smile of a child who has just done something amazing. Of course, if you live out where we do, touching drops of water that are randomly falling from the sky is amazing, so I guess he had something to smile about.

Foiling Dad

Ok...so here's what happened with Mr. B getting all muddy and wet...
Since we live so close to my parents (10 minutes) we are able to see a lot of them and they are able to be a big part of our son's life. I invited them to dinner last week and while I was cooking, (and my mom was chatting with me), the men (and Mr. B) all went outside in the little yard. My dad and husband eventually gravitated off in the direction of the shop, which of course contains various power tools. 10 minutes later, dinner is done and I'm callin them in to wash up. "Where is our son?" I ask "Um, he's somewhere here in the little yard." (when my husband says "UM" when answering a question, I know something is up...)
I don't panic - the entire 2 acres is fenced w/field fencing and he's in the little yard inside that big yard, but still...I hear him laughing in the front yard and realize he's up to no good - I know that laugh! Sure enough, when we round the corner, we encounter a sopping wet little boy, drinking out of the hose on a warm summer evening. How can I be mad? I rush inside to grab the camera so I can capture this moment - that of a fun loving little boy, enjoying life in the country...getting dirty, getting wet, being a child. I love the look on his sweet little face...see the smile below...

Oooooh, The Arizona Sun...

Well, here we are! All three of us adults in the pool with 5 children in our arms. Are we crazy?? YES!!! (There I am in the back with Mr. B and Mikey kicking like mad to get out of my arms.) Sheesh. I don't know how two boys raised in Arizona with the heat and the lack of rain can be such water bugs.
Here's the deal...my Mom's pool is kinda small, so the rule is that only the kids can wear sunscreen - not the adults. Fine, right? Cuz how much time do we really spend in the water anyway? Maybe an hour before the kids get tired and start swallowing so much water they look like little Etheopian children with their protruding bellies. We get out of the water, sit in the shade, and open our picnic lunches - PB & J sandwiches, YUM!!! Then, while the children are playing in the little water table, the three of us decide that we want to get a tan and LAY OUT IN THE SUN. Yep, you heard me right. We set up the lounge chairs, took off our towels and actually layed outside while the sun was shining.
I have to tell you that all three of us are wearing our brand new swimsuits, and they just happen to be bikinis. This is the first time ANY of us has worn a bikini. So just sit a minute and imagine the whitness...oh yes, it's a disturbing thought.
There we are, in the sun, whitness glowing, skin burning. "Hey", I ask. "Did either of you put sunscreen on when you got out of the pool?". "Nope", they both answer. I announce that we better get out of the sun and we did - not a moment tooooooo soon!! We are all fried to a crispy crunch. I haven't been able to sleep for two days; I can't roll over because of the burn between my shoulderblades. The other Sarah can't sleep 'cuz her shoulders are so crisp, and Kristi can't really move 'cuz of the redness on her legs. The kids are fine though - not a bit of color, and that's good thing here in AZ.
This morning, Sarah calls and says, "What are you doing tomorrow?" All I can say is "I'm NOT swimming!"
But it's funny how I had to think about it for a minute because out here, the water is soooo alluring; almost hypnotizing...maybe if I put on a shirt....

Here's The Picture...

I don't know what I did wrong, but the picture didn't upload so here it is (now the next blog will make much more sense!!).

A Little Late For Memorial Day, But...

A Little Late For Memorial Day, But...

This here is a picture of little Mr. B sitting in a ball turret, cute and comfy as can be. Can you imagine a full grown man fitting in there, with his knees at his chest, shooting at the enemy and knowing if anything goes wrong, he will probably die? When I went to church on the Sunday before memorial day, I got up to lead the music and I realized that we didn't have one single patriotic song on the list to sing. So I asked if we might sing a patriotic song - they are in the hymn book, so I thought it would be very appropiate. "No, we don't sing those songs on Memorial Day, that's not what the day is for. Today is Sunday". That's what I was told by the leaders in our church.
I'm not one who ususally bucks the system, but I do have a little brain of my own and I like to use in once in a while to keep the cobwebs out and the gears from sqeakin' to awful loud when I think. NOT WHAT THE DAY IS FOR?!?!?!?! Then what is it for? Having BBQ's and picnics, and eating greasy, fried food until we burst? Sheesh...in light of that moment of anger I felt in church (and have since repented of) I would like to give a little info about our (well, my husband's) Grandpa Delbert's ordeal he went through during WWII when his big bomber plane was shot down over Germany (or France occupied by Germany)....
I went into the service on Jan 6th 1943. We were shot down on our 19th bombing mission, near Laon France on February 25th, 1944, (Maxine's mother's birthday) and I was in The American Memorial Hospital in Reims France (Under German occupation) for three months. Then we were moved to Stalag Luft IV near Kolberg, way up on the Baltic sea in what is now a part of Poland.
We left Stalag Luft IV on Feb 6 1944 and marched six hundred miles in the dead of winter, sleeping on the open ground and in hay barns and surviving on a starvation diet. Out of the 6000 who left the Prison camp only 2000 of us walked across the Elba River to freedom 87 days later, around the first of May. I was a prisoner of war for 14 months. After we were liberated, I spent three months in France waiting for a ship to bring me home. I was discharged on November 25th 1945. I was in the service just one month under three years.

I am so thankful - really, truly, thankful for what he has sacrificed for the freedom that my small family enjoys every day. What an amazing man. And he makes up a particle of the men who served then and who serve today. I put up my big flag for every occasion, and I always have a few little ones flying around the garden. My favorite color is red, white, and blue. Really. I try to go out of my way to thank my service men & women - I am scared to think "What would I do, where would I be, without them?". So THANK YOU to everyone who has served - in ANY way to help us keep what we worked so hard to gain - our most precious and beloved freedom.

Wow! Now Everyone Can See Us!!!

Hello All!!!! I posted blogs and pictures and updates on our Yahoo! 360 site for a few months, but nobody wanted to log on to see them, so we are now on a site that anyone can see at anytime with out signing in. HORRAY!! Helaman suggests that I cut and paste the other blogs from our 360 site, so I'll work on doing that. The thing is, right now we are having strange weather...clouds and wind and HUGE dust storms, so the internet is somewhat un-reliable. We haven't been able to connect on a regular basis, but it should be must better now. Check back often to see what's going on in Sunny Southern Arizona with the Lambsons!!!