The Ravines revisited

We made a trip to Palatka as one of our Spring Break soirees, to visit the Ravine Gardens. Diaper issues weren't on the radar this time, thank goodness, so a good time was had by all.

Mer was our official tour guide, considering she lived in P-town through her high school years and she made sure to point out the old high school and tell stories about the "good ole days."
The flowers were beautiful. I think we hit it at the right time this year.
Check this out. The only way he would take a picture next to her was if she was kneeling down below him, was not touching him and allowed him to have a hold of her neck. Can you see "I'm a stinker" written all over his face?
Capturing some Mer/Grandson love. No, that's not staged or anything.
I thought this was interesting. The following two pictures were taken within feet of each other. This one was in the sun, showing the hard shadows.
And this one was two steps back in the shade. Huge difference, I think.
Sometimes I think it would be fun to be a fly on the wall (or in this case, a tree) when I'm out with my kids. For some reason, I felt extremely compelled to explain what the word "suspended" meant to Katherine, as we were walking across the suspended bridge. She was the least bit interested, but I still chased her down, explaining the whole time and even trying to give her examples, of what "suspended" meant as I held her up with my arms, weak stomach muscles and all. One day she'll get old enough to tell me she really doesn't care. Until then, I'm coming after you sister.

Sleeping Beauty

Sometimes she is overcome with sleep, no matter where she is.

When daddy is in charge of bubble baths

This post is gonna be real simple.

When Mommy is in charge of bubble baths:

(Jan '09)

There are many portions of the bubbles that are sparse and you can see down through them to the bottom of the tub.



When Daddy is in charge of bubble baths:

(Feb '11)

All you see are heads poking up out of the bubbles.
Lots of splashing is allowed.
And it's encouraged to showcase the latest bubble fashions, i.e. beards and hats.

The Boyer Frat House

Back when we updated our bedroom, one of our splurge purchases was a bed frame. It was a "splurge" because I picked one out at the used furniture place, delivered it home in the back of Jim's truck, and we assembled it ourselves. One minor important detail that was not noticeable while on the "showroom" floor, was it's short cross-beam that ran the length of the bed.

Why would a cross-beam be so important Kel, you might ask? Well, with a King-sized bed, the box frame is actually two twin bed box frames and that cross-beam holds both of them up.

Oh, so why bring up it being short? It's length is important because it essentially holds the bed up. We learned early on that if the fan was on too high and the wind was just right, that short cross-beam would slip out of position and the bed ended up half on the floor, half still intact. Fun times.

The last time our bed "broke" was because one of our children came running in and did the 30-pound pile drive on it. Thirty pounds really isn't a big deal, but when you're dealing with a short cross-beam, it is all of a sudden. So, minutes before bedtime, our bed half falls down and wouldn't you know it, the man who is capable of falling asleep on an airboat WHILE IT IS RUNNING (no really, he did), fell asleep on the half up, half down bed.

I tried to sleep on it. I really did. But this self-proclaimed Princess and the Pea just was not capable of sleeping on a crooked bed. So, I packed up ALL of my pillows and set up camp in Katherine's bed.

The next morning I approached the I-can-sleep-anywhere man and asked him why he didn't fix the bed before falling asleep. (It takes strong arms, stomach muscles and a strong back to lift the mattress and box springs to fix it and I'm officially out of commission in the heavy-lifting department).

His response...

"I was tired."

Can you believe that? For one, he's capable of answering a question in three measly words, that most women would turn into a dissertation, and two, it really was that simple in his world.

Well, I stifled the disgust and jealousy and calmly replied, "James Boyer, this is no frat house, and I'd rather not have it be treated as such."

This is when I sometimes say things that I'm not quite sure of how they will be received. Because sometimes my frankness comes across as a bit, "witchy" and other times, he thinks it's hilarious. Like the time soon after we were married, he was berating me about finances and spending $2.11 each day on lunch at Subway. I had had enough and I angrily called him a Communist Tyrant. It easily could have gone either way: spur him on into a good argument, or as it ended up, he burst out in laughter and wore his new title with much pride.

So as the frat house comment easily flowed from my mouth, the anticipation of waiting for his reaction was short-lived because he again: burst out into laughter. He has very fond memories of the filthy, college-male dominated giant keg he called home for years. Me, not so much. He was by far the cleanest one that lived there, but it did have an odor and all the men admitted that each year it was just easier to paint the walls rather than clean them.

It wasn't much longer into the day that I walked back toward the bedroom and found this on our door, with a daddy and two giggling kids hiding under the covers of the repaired bed:
Very cute. I had a good laugh along with the kiddos who were oblivious to its meaning, but the wiser owl of the two started asking questions and when she realized it said no Mommys were allowed, she decided to fix it, on her own, with no assistance. The next day, the sign looked like this:
There might not be any free-flowing booze around here, but we are most certainly drunk on love.

Valentine's Day goodies

There are some days I do get bit by the baking bug. It's not often, but when it does happen, my sweet tooth is usually throbbing and I've scoured the pantry to see what kind of boxed goodies are left for me to devour.

Valentine's Day was no exception this year. The goodness in the pantry yielded a bag of sugar cookie mix and I just happened to have a heart-shaped cookie cutter for the occasion. Hot Dog! We're on!

It was time to put some blinders over my OCD, pull out the fancy-shmancy children lifters, stand between the two for more efficient referee-ing and bake some cookies.
Nathan, will most likely always be stuck with the pink, frilly aprons, because boys usually don't get those for gifts. Get used to it kid.
And where this one gets her photogenic-ness, I don't know. But when the camera comes out, she's ready man. Pose, head-tilt, pretty smile, etc.
Now, I do know where this one gets his photogenic-ness.
The next night was a daddy-night and he put together some home-made icing for the kiddos to slather on the freshly baked cookies.

These cookies were officially the best-tasting cookies I'd had in a long time. Full of sugar and made with lots of love.

Nathan update

It's been so long since blogging, and I officially spent 2 hours tonight uploading pictures, doing some minor editing and writing out a list of 13 topics I could easily write about. If only I had a whole day to devote to it...

One of them was too hard to pass up for tonight, even with the clock as far as along as it is, and my sleeping still a major priority. The big news is: Nathan has officially moved to a Big Boy Bed!

Since we are in the process of preparing a nursery, there is a place for the crib to go and he was ready to transition. "Two and a half? That a little early, Kel?" you might say. But I say, oh contraire! It was only Tuesday night of this week the little mini Houdini escaped from his crib 10 TIMES!

Daddy knew it was serious when about 3pm the next day, he received an email stating:
"We need to talk about this tonight!"
With the following picture attached to a Walmart link for purchase:

So, displaying the Solomon-esque wisdom he usually shows during the times I'm ready to "cage my problems away", Jim calmly replied he'd work with him that night, for me not to worry, he'd take care of Nathan until he got to sleep.

Whoo! (wiping the perspiration from my brow) I know we as parents aren't supposed to compare children, because I do recall some hard times with "her" also...

a month before Nathan was born

But the "boy" seems to be a little more stubborn, hard-headed, strong-willed, etc. than I recall from "her". Although, I'm sure having 2 of them running in circles around my rotund figure has absolutely NOTHING to do with my level of patience.

I digress... Daddy took the lead for bed time on Wednesday, laid down the law, and I got to be the back-rubber/sweet-talker/comforter for the come-to-Jesus meeting between the men that night.

So far, knock on wood, it's been smooth sailing staying in the big boy bed. Even in the morning, he stays there until I dismiss him. I know, it's only been two nights and I'm jumping the gun, but I'm pretty proud of that little stinker. It's crazy how children respond to different parenting styles. Thankfully, God had all this figured out before the universe was formed. I'm so glad someone knows how to handle all this.

Tonight's bedtime was worthy of picture taking. The little booger was doing this (see below) in his crib months ago and periodically still does. It was the major reason I attempted potty-training soon after he turned 2. The diaper comes off and nature calls. Sometimes I was lucky enough to catch it before it caused the assembly of a midnight cleanup brigade, like I did tonight. But unfortunately there were days when nature called fairly quickly and I had either a clean-up or a MAJOR clean-up to deal with. And might I just add: poop smeared on the sheets, blankets, bumper pad, toys, body, pajamas and in between the crib's spindles takes a good 2 full days to recover from. It only took four MAJOR cleaning episodes for me to figure out the "jet" setting on the outside hose is the most efficient pre-cleaning method available. That would also be the reason I was rummaging around the side shed looking for painters tape one night about 11pm so I could tape his diaper on so he couldn't get it off. Hence my temporary loss of sanity here lately.

Luckily, tonight was one of those nights I caught it in time.
Notice the wardrobe pieces on the floor? And yes, that is a clipart monster truck covering him.

I have officially taken a potty-training sabbatical and will revisit it when he actually shows an interest. I've lowered my standards enough to be okay with Kindergarten peer-pressure finally being the attention-grabber he's been needing.

In the meantime, I hope, but mostly pray, he'll continue to be the big boy his new bed demands, potty-training can wait and loving the little twirp to pieces needs to be my main goal.

How could I not? Just yesterday as he was standing on my bed, he gently rubbed the sides of my cheeks with both his hands and said, "Mama, you so pwetty."