The Renaissance Fair

There was a big swing. Everyone wanted to ride it. At first it looked fun! And NOT SCARY!

Up and up they went. All smiles and anticipation.
I wish I had gotten a better shot of their faces. The ride operator turned to me and said, "Now THAT is the look of pure terror." They were fine once they got off. Tessa did mention that the swing made "my whole body freak out, mom!"

Westlands

We had to drive East to get there. :)

If only the water area had shaded seating. That would be my only complaint. The kids had none. Tessa "dove" right in.

She must have run around for 10 minutes straight. I was beginning to think she had snuck some coffee this morning when she quickly announced that she had to go potty. I guess she just had to run around some first, and found once she started, she couldn't stop.

Jack has recently developed a little caution in his personality. He mostly started off by taking it all in...

And taking it in some more...

Then he got brave enough to touch some water.

Well, that is a slippery slope because pretty soon he was wading with a little daring splash.

Then he got REALLY brave and stuck his foot into a waterfall.

I remember when Tessa was the same way. She never would let a drop hit her face. She now spends more of her time underwater at the pool than above it.

So sweet!

Lair O' the Bear

This last Saturday, we decided to go on a hike. We couldn't have asked for better weather as it was in the low to mid 70's with a light breeze. We chose a trail called Lair O' the Bear Trail. It is a popular mountain biking/hiking trail. Which was the only downside: watching out for bikers. Here's the kids at the start:

Jack is a hand holder. He will hold my hand everywhere we go and throws fits if I am carrying too much and can't at the moment. Sometimes, he prefers to hold Tessa's hand, and she lovingly obliges. (Don't you know we were holding our breath waiting for her to refuse.)
In fact, this whole day was one of those rare brother/sister days where they really played well together and Tessa watched out for Jack in a sweet protective-motherly way.

"Being pretty on the inside means you don't hit your brother and you eat all your peas--that's what my grandma taught me." Lord Chesterfield

Here is my 5-going-on-15 year old daughter giving me the "Mom, could you BE more lame right now?" face.

There are lots of fun big rocks to climb on as you walk along:

And there are frequent points where the path allows access to Bear Creek. Which, by the way, is a great place to get rock throwing out of your system (unless you are Jack and that "system" is a black hole).

At the beginning of the hike there are tons of shaded picnic tables and restrooms. We were able to score one right under a huge tree and right next to the water. It was also just a hop and a skip from the restrooms. We had a peaceful lunch and then drove home. If you are looking for somewhere simple and entertaining to hike with your kids, I highly recommend trying out Lair O' the Bear. And to make it really fun, Morrison is just down the road and you can have lunch there at Beso (my favorite place to eat in Morrison).

DANGO

I guess I have to explain the title. Because I'm not sure anyone who reads this email will know what that references for me. DANGO (stands for "Doings and Goings On") is the name of the email/newsletter that the physics department at ACU sent out. It has had different "editors" over the years, and we have known two of them pretty well. Neither of them reads this blog. So....anyways....that's all I have to say about that.

Summer is here! Of course, "summer" is loosely defined as "when there is no longer school" because we sure wouldn't know it by the temperature. Doesn't bother the indominateable Tessa who either has a high tolerance for pain or was born part eskimo. Last night, she sat in the cold pool as the sun set and the temp gauge went into the low 60's/high 50's. I made her come in and stripped her down right inside the door and dressed her in dry clothes. She immediately ran to jump in her Daddy's lap. As soon as her ice-cold feet touched his leg, he let out a high-pitched squeal. I'm positive that squeal just served to confirm to Tessa that "it was worth it".

So, Tessa lost her first tooth about a week ago:

The tooth fairy visited our house. And with a little photo-shop, we were able to capture her on film!!

Tessa was just floored by this picture. She speculated all day about what the tooth fairy did and where she went, etc. Then she found another loose tooth next to the, well, hole for lack of a better term. She has been wiggling the heck out of that tooth hoping to make it come out sooner.

Of course, the picture thing was a bit much for Anthony. He doesn't want to "lie" to our kids about the tooth fairy or santa or anything like that. I put lie in quotes because this is such a grey area. Yes you can melt it down to black and white, but you would be doing this sitaution a diservice if you did. There's so much more to it than that.

And besides, when Anthony told Tessa that he was born with several extra feet on his head that came loose and fell off and the "foot fairy" came to his house....well....he lost all credibility as far as I'm concerned.

Jack went on the potty for the first time on the same day that Tessa lost her tooth. But, as you can see, he still makes stinky diapers and we are nowhere near potty training:

I just love this guy's little body. His little pot belly and his skinny arms are to die for. And who can resist a nibble on that neck? I sure can't. :)
Yesterday, the kids begged to put on swimsuits and take their towels out to the deck. This is what they ended up doing. Now that's what I call "laying out"!

Ahhhh! The sweet life! Nowhere to be, nothing to do, no bills to pay, no dinners to cook. Just you, your disney-themed beach towel, and a sippy of apple juice.

Libraries

As I crouch down on hands and knees to clean out the debris underneath Tessa's bed a question pops into my head:

Are library books for kids worth it?

When I finally find the book (not even in her room as it turns out), I discover one of the pages is torn. It dangles out by the smallest fiber of paper. Hurricane Jack has far reaching effects--we are still picking through the rubble, discovering new and unforeseen losses every day.

And it's not just the long searches for books, or the embarrassing confessions to librarians that (yet again) my son tore up one of your books. It's not even the fines. Because, if anyone knows me AT ALL, they know I NEVER have fines. (If I were Queen of somewhere, it would be a country called sarcasmville.)

The worst part about the library is the actual "going there" part. I can't seem to keep Hurricane Jack under control. He's like a little toy soldier until he sees the elevator. Then he becomes more like an IED with a homing device. And Tessa will sometimes get offended because Jack pushed the button when she wanted to do it. But let me assure you right here, faithful readers: She. Could. Care. Less. I call it "Brother-wants-it-so-I-want-it-itis".

Once inside the elevator, it transforms from a metal container used to lift and lower people into a game console. Maybe you've heard of it? It's called: Nuclear Fission In A Box. Eat your heart out Superconductor.

After a short(?) ride up, and about three presses of the alarm button later, the doors open into a hall and the Daytona 500 highlights play as we head towards the library.

There is this one librarian who wears glasses and a pencil in her hair. (Is that a cliche or a stereotype?) I can see her face actually pinch in on itself when I show up. She probably looks that way because Jack's favorite thing to do in the library is pull books off of the shelves and place them, one by one, into the return slot. He's very single-minded about this and will sometimes act like he's going to behave so that I will look away for a split second. All he needs, people. All he needs.

Tessa just came downstairs in a princess dress and WAY too much sparkly lip gloss (now a prized possession that she found in her Easter basket). She says to me, "Ah, when are we going to go to the lirary?" The typos were on purpose. She actually said, "Mom, when are we going to go to the library?", but, for some reason, she doesn't let her lips touch together when they have gloss on them.

I tell her, "As soon as I inish I cah-hee." ;)

Wanted: Replacement Mother

Family of four in need of replacement mother.

Erratic hours
On call 24/7
Days off subject to last minute cancellation

Must be able to:
Function coherently on very little sleep
Communicate effectively with 2 year old
Negotiate sibling skirmishes
Be extremely diplomatic about friends
Play barbies ad nauseum
Patch up wounds without flinching
Distribute large quantities of snacks from purse at a moment's notice
Dress a man and two children (and yourself) and get them out the door in time for church
And don't worry about a little sand in the car

A sense of humor is a must
Tasteful wackiness is acceptable
But please don't get carried away
You will, above all, be required to set a good example
Creativity is encouraged
You should be subtly intelligent and discreet
It is not necessary to play a musical instrument (but it is a "wow" factor)
You must be willing to sing at the top of your lungs when the situation calls for it

Have a poker face ready at all times
Be clever at answering the "why's"
Be a natural at improv
Know what to do when the muddy dog gets in, the cat gets out, and the 2 yr old is running off with a sharpie in his hands
At the same time

Must sign up for the long haul
Meaning birthdays, graduations, weddings, anniversaries, grandchildren and family reunions
Never lose sight of the important things
The big picture
The little details
Love
And most of all Jesus.

Bending Down

I was struck with the effiminate nature of the phrase "bending down" today. No--more specific than that--it's a motherly phrase. We women who have small children have a special knowledge about bending down. We do it more than anyone else--to wipe noses, to tie shoes, to clean faces, to hug, to pick up, to put down, to kiss, to wipe away a tear. We bend down out of neccessity--you really have to get down there if you want to get all of the chocolate off your two-year old's face. We bend down out of convenience--it is so much easier to bend down to listen to your child's story than to try and decipher the words from on high. We also (and this is my favorite) bend down out of love--for the heart gets a thrill when, because we bent down, we meet them on their level and we see their joy and we can feel it in their sticky embrace that threatens to adhere like glue to our hearts and forever mar the smooth surface with texture and color (and maybe a little grape jelly, too). And I can't help thinking how the Lord has said he leads us with cords of human kindness. That He is like one who lifts a little child to the cheek and then bends down to feed us. This fact about the Lord's character is a secert present that waits to be opened by each mother. It's pretty wrapping being all we could see until we first lifted that tiny bundle to lay it sleeping in a crib--THEN and only then were we able to open the gift and see what was inside--an image of our King bending down...