Monsoons

Dax was born in Utah in December. That’s not a good thing. I couldn’t take Dax outside for months after he was born for fear of him catching RSV. Doctor’s orders. The doctor’s also told us it would be best for him to stay inside until April. April!! That was going to be nearly impossible, but we did try the best we could. Dax had a little jaundice when he was born, but laying him next to a window where the sun would stream in was not an option. There was no sun. I didn’t see the poor boys little birdie legs until he was probably six months old because he was always swaddled up in a nice big blanket. And the snow? Oh, how it snowed. It snowed and snowed and snowed. It did not make much fun for me with a newborn. I think it snowed all the way until April that year.

By the time summer finally rolled around, we had a wonderful time playing outside in the grass and going for walks. Utah has wonderful summers. But they always end quickly and sometimes it starts snowing again by Halloween. And of course, that was the case for Dax on his first Halloween and although it didn’t snow, I think I remember it being 40 degrees at least. We had to swap his cute cowboy outfit for a plush dragon that had covered feet, hands and a fleece hood. Still cute, but not the same when your first trick or treating experiencing is cut down to a 10 minute power walk around the church parking lot to trick or treat out of ward member’s trunk and then hurry home as fast as you can. I’m sure he didn’t care, but I did! Those winter months consisted of staying cooped up inside as much as possible and it wasn't fun.

When we moved to AZ the following March there was record breaking heat, record breaking consecutive days over 110 degrees and record breaking days without rain. Plus, I was pregnant with Wyatt, but that’s beside the point.

Dax has lived in some pretty extreme weather. And although both are pretty miserable, the thing I feel bad about the most is that he has literally only experienced rain a handful of times in his life.

I love when it would rain growing up. It didn’t happen often, and perhaps it wasn’t even classified as rain, definitely not Seattle rain, but more showers. But when it did, my mom always put on a movie for us, popped us popcorn over the stove and made hot hot chocolate. I loved it.

Here, the rain isn’t much like that either though. Here, the rains are called monsoons and it is something to be seen. These monsoons usually happen from about early July into September. They come and go as fast as you can blink, dump more rain than imaginably possible and the rain is dried up faster than even more imaginably possible with the loudest thunder and the brightest lightening, and it is still 112 degrees outside. Trees blow over, play houses are knocked down, trash cans are found down the street, parks flood. It’s crazy!

And it’s that time of year.

We’ve had a few monsoons this week. Usually they happen late in the day or in the evening, but the other morning we woke up and it was raining. This never happens. And for once it wasn’t as windy or as much of a trenchale downpour as usual and we were actually able to go outside and play in it.

Dax wanted an umbrella but I couldn’t find one. Why would I own an umbrella in AZ? He insisted on wearing a jacket and hood. I told him he was crazy because it was already 90 degrees at 7:30 in the morning, but that's what he wanted. Wyatt on the other hand ran around in his diaper but I was too embarrassed to post any pictures of him considering we were in the front yard. Okay, maybe there is one. And guess what? They love the rain too!

I love that I finally have pictures of Dax playing in the rain. It only took 3 ½ years, but there you have it! Total bliss.

That is until he jumped in a puddle that was actually a sink hole (another great thing about monsoons and AZ) and got covered in mud and the fun stopped there.

But at least we got some pictures to remember it all.

Weekend Trip

What can you possibly do in CA for 36 hours?

Shop in Cabazon for a few hours on you way into town.

Stay the night with your adorable 89-year-old grandparents that your son admirably calls grandma and grandpa “grape” as opposed to grandma and grandpa “great”.

Eat Pedro’s scrumptious steak and egg breakfast burritos overlooking miles and miles of beautiful ocean.

Shop at Bella Terra where Derek Fisher just so happens to be signing autographs at Upper Deck and the Laker girls are performing.

Disappointed you happen to be in Orange County the very weekend the OC Fair is going on and missing the coveted Swapmeet.

Meet your best friend you’ve had since kindergarten for lunch at one of your favorite Mexican restaurants from high school that still sits nestled in the 5 Point Shopping center.

Drive through the neighborhoods where you grew up reminiscing of the good old days…and in awe of how much has changed.

Stop in at a family friends house to visit and get ready for your very first experience of a Greek wedding.

Drive along Pacific Coast Highway, reminiscing again of your childhood, and soaking in all the sand and sea that you can muster.

Be a guest at the wedding of your husband’s best friend who happens to be one of the most beautiful brides ever.

Tackle Main Street with the other 20,000 people to watch the US Open and shop at HSS.

Spend the evening at the reception at the Waterfront Hilton where your son falls into the fountain outside while waiting for the bride and groom to arrive. Classic.

Decide to ditch out on the steak and Mahi Mahi sit down dinner (that you have been dying for the past few days) in the beautiful reception hall because you have two boys who are about to burst at the seams. Did I mention how beautiful this reception was?

Hop in the car at ten to eight and drive home hand in hand with your hubby while your two little ones sleep in the back exhausted from the busy whirlwind of a weekend.

Man, we have it pretty good.

When I grow up...

I wanna be a cowboy.
And a rodeo star.
I wanna ride around on my horse and tip my hat to all the little ladies.
I’m working real hard on perfecting the sly, mysterious stare those cowboys give in the movies.
I already got down the cowboy strut and do it all the time in my diaper.
I don’t got a mustache yet, but one day I will.
Mom may think I am swearing when I look upset and start speaking crazy talk, but really I’m just trying to say “Yee Haw Cowboy!” and “Let’s Ride!”
I love my (rocking) horse to death---even though it plays "She'll be comin' 'round the mountain". Cowboys are great singers, and so am I.
In my whole 18-months I took to life of a cowboy like a horse takes to oats.
And even though mom may think I put my hat on to run around because it’s fun and I look cute…I really think I’d fit right in to life on the road riding in the sunset.

Boys she's gonna miss me.

Brothers

Brothers. Brothers? Really? Are we sure? Some days I don’t really know.

Look at them? They are so completely different. Wyatt’s hair is verging on white and is bone straight. Dax’s hair is just likes Austin’s. It has curl, it’s coarse and it’s slowly getting shades and shades darker as he gets older. Dax has hazel eyes. Wyatt has blue. They don’t even look like they have the same mama, let alone parents. Dax is so dark and Wyatt is so fair. Dax is skinny and musclely. Wyatt is plumper and heftier (which is not a good thing for Dax when Wyatt figures out he has this advantage over his brother). Dax is right handed, and from what we can tell, Wyatt will probably be left. Wyatt is a people person. He’s social and happy to tell his stories with any stranger. He’ll let you hold him and gives hugs and kisses to anyone. Dax on the other hand reserves hugs and kisses for those special people he knows really well. He’s kinda a loner. Not in a bad way, but in the way that he doesn’t need the company of others to have fun or to be entertained. He’s happy playing all by himself.

In some aspects, they couldn’t be on more different ends of the spectrum.

And yet, in other aspects they are two peas in a pod.

They have the same twinkle in their eye. This adorable, mischievous twinkle that makes my heart melt. They both have a tiny bit of in-toeing, that they’ll most likely grow out of, but it makes them the fastest, swiftest runners, and they look completely the same when they take off across the yard their little legs going a mile a minute. I wish mine could still do that. They make the same expressions. Their “surprised face” is identical with their big eyes and “o” shaped mouth. It’s one of my most favorite expressions they make. They have the same laugh, and when you get them laughing at the same time, you can’t help but laugh at them laughing. They like the same food. I think they secretly communicate at the dinner table and occasionally veto the dinner I’ve made on the same night just so I will make them hot dogs instead. They have the same stubborn, self sufficient, I-can-do-it-myself, attitude. I wonder where they got that?

I love how different they are and I love how similar they are. I love that they are individuals and I love that they are cookie-cutters of one another. I love that they are my boys. I love that I love them.

And I love that they love each other.

Just like brothers should.

San Clemente

Throughout the year there are quite a few things I look forward to. Birthdays, putting up Christmas decorations, the day after Thanksgiving shopping, and always always going beach camping in San Clemente.

We have been going beach camping with Austin’s side of the family for at least eight years. Each year there are at least 50 of us who camp. We try to reserve the group campsite that’s tucked back in the corner where we have our own area overlooking the ocean and we all fit comfortably. It’s beautiful and perfect. It has gotten tricker and tricker to reserve this group site and even tricker to reserve it over the week we want to go. There have been times in the past where we have been scattered into three and four campsites or have gone in the early weeks of June where it isn’t quite warm enough. Both ways don’t feel quite right. Somehow, someway this year the stars were aligned and we got the group campsite for eight days. Even better, over the 4th of July!
We have some great traditions while we are there. We always choose a theme for the week and we vote for it the last night of the trip so that we have a whole year to gather things…and trust me, we end up with A LOT of stuff. We also sign up to be on a committee to help plan the next year. There is a decorations committee and the camp is always decorated so festive with the theme and all the families go all out collecting shirts, blankets, accessories and whatever else they can find to compliment the theme. My favorite was when we had a Western theme and someone brought a horsie clock that neighed and galloped on every hour and half hour. Since I had Dax, I have tried to make something for the boys that goes along with the theme. When we had a “boot camp” theme I made Dax a flannel camo blanket. When it was a “baseball” theme, we choose the Phillies and Austin and I wore some of Austin’s old jerseys and I made Dax a matching one. Last year our theme was “superheros” and I made the boys matching capes. This year the theme was “pirates” and I made both the boys pirate bandannas.

Side note, it is virtually impossible to get a picture with both boys at the same time, so don’t mind that most of these pictures will be of them individually.

Each year the activities committee has an obstacle course around the camp. I don’t know why, but it’s one of the highlights of the week and the kids love it. Dax has ran the past few years and this year stood in line over and over again to try and beat his personal record. It is such a riot watching the kids run around. They also buried treasures in a sandbox for the smaller kids and the little ones played in it all week long. Thanks Aunt Miki and Aunt Jenny for all the fun!
Another highlight is the “store”. This is another one of our committees where the committee brings lots of fun goodies for the kids to "buy". The kids earned gold coins and bought coloring books and crayons, eye patches, tattoos, swords…so many fun things. Aunt Lisa and Shauna really out did themselves. Of course, the best part is the beach. Every day we pack the same lunch: PB&J’s, Diet Coke, chips, and peanut M&M’s and head down to the beach for hours of fun. It makes me so sad that I grew up at the beach and my boys only get to enjoy it for two weeks out of the year. With that being said, we truly do our best to make up for lost time and play hard. Each day there always seems to be a vicious game of Ultimate Frisbee where it is at least 10 on 10 and we get the whole beach watching all the crazy guys and kids run around. Austin and his brother and brother-in-law play another silly game where they stand a few yards apart and throw the Frisbee at one another and don’t catch it, but let it hit them and different parts of the body are various points. It’s so silly and funny at the same time and they look like idiots with red marks across their chest where the Frisbee hits them, but they play every day and laugh their heads off. They are known for the dumb games they make up but they are so entertained. The kids dig in the sand and play in the water and have the best time. It really can't get better than that. I know if I still lived by the beach, we'd be there everyday in the summer. For the 4th we went down to the beach early to claim our spot for our huge group and my best friend Ashley came up for the day and visited. Since the majority of Austin's family is originally from CA, there always seems to be a handful of visitors throughout the week. This year we deemed the 'year of the visitors'. The last day of camp we ended up counting all the people we had camping and the total number of visitors and it's outrageous. We had 44 campers in all, 15 tents, 3 trailers and 63 visitors! It was crazy, but it's always fun to have more people at the beach to play with. We BBQ'd and watched fireworks from our beach chairs overlooking the ocean. Dax was so impressed.

One of my traditions is to try and get a family picture on the edge of the campsite overlooking the ocean. We have every year and I love looking back. I am quickly learning though that it is almost impossible to get a decent picture with all four of us looking at the camera and smiling. The boys are so wiggly and never wanting to stay still and look at the camera. It was the same story with these pictures. We never got a decent one, but I am so glad Misti kept taking pictures at our attempt to look perfect even when the hair pulling and goofiness started. Poor Austin got the grunt of the hair pulling. These pictures make me smile ten times more than the perfect, posed one we will probably never have because it's a little window into our everyday life.

We can't wait for next year. We're already planning. The theme? Disney

Wyatt

I think Wyatt would be a great farmer. The number one reason? He is wide awake at the break of dawn.

I love my son, but if he could sleep just a little longer, that’d be awesome.

Twice a week I roll out of bed to turn my computer on at my desk at quarter to six to start work…and he’s already awake. The other mornings I am out of the house at five to five to head to the gym (and thankfully he is not up quite yet) but somewhere between the time that I get home at ten to six, he wakes up. I don’t usually mind (except maybe on Saturdays) because I am already awake. So, we live, even if the sun hasn’t even peeked its little head up yet.

I think Wyatt would be a great early morning radio talk show host. The number one reason? He is a yapper.
I am fine to wake up early, but holding a conversation first thing? Not so much. If I head to the gym I put my hat on, ear phones in, and do my thing. Please don’t try and talk to me. If I start work right away, I can barely answer the “good morning” IM’s with enthusiasm. It takes me a little bit to get going. For Wyatt, who knows what rigmarole he’s talking about so early. Whatever it is, he has a lot to say. Maybe he’s telling all his little animal friends that he sleeps with about the dreams he had. Or maybe he’s trying to chirp back at the birds that sing in the tree outside his bedroom window. Maybe he knows that Dax sleeps in the bedroom next door and he’s trying to wake up his brother. Maybe he just likes to confuse the train’s choo choo sound with garbage truck. Who the heck knows?

But for sure, I think Wyatt would be a great speech pathologist. The number one reason? He has a HUGE vocabulary. Ok, maybe not huge, but I think it’s pretty impressive. It’s probably because Dax didn’t quite talking or really communicating with us until he was closer to two. Wyatt on the other hand has a lot to say. He turns 18 months in just a couple of weeks and I wanted to remember all the words he is using. Here goes…

momma
da-e (daddy)
ba ba (bottle)
wa wa (water)
boo (book)
chew (shoe)
bay- be (baby)
ba (ball)
no
bubble (he says this one really good)
side (outside)
hi
ane (plane)
choo choo
do (dog)
bye bye
ack (snack)
koo-key (ccokie)
bath
ease (please or cheese)
ou (out)
bi (bite)

Oddly, lots of his words start with B’s. Maybe when he’s a speech pathologist he can tell me why.

Girlfriends

Everyone says kids grow up way too fast. You hear it all the time when you are pregnant or with a newborn and a sweet (or kinda strange), little lady walks up and wants to touch your belly or oooh and ahhh over your little one. You can see how they are reminiscing of their grown children and how they miss their babies. I’ll admit some days I can’t imagine the day going any slower, wishing time would speed up, but ninety nine percent of the time, I totally believe that. My kids are growing up way too fast. Dax especially is on the fast track. And I wish he would stop.

There are things daily that remind me he is getting big. For instance, when he uses the word “intentionally” or “sophisticated”. Or his mannerisms look so grown up. Lately he would rather fold his arms and walk next to me rather than hold my hand because somehow he has figured it out that he looks older (and cooler) walking by himself than hand in hand with his mom. I love to hold his hand. And I’ve had to start making up stories about when he wipes off my kisses. I just tell him he is just rubbing them in more just to make my secretly breaking heart feel better. I know when he starts pre-school in the next few months I’ll hyperventilate seeing him walk up to his teachers house, wearing his back pack that is the same size as him. And even though nothing is actually in his back pack, I know he’ll want to wear it because he will feel big just because he gets to go to school. He has no problem leaving me.

All these things remind me how before I know it he is going to be all grown up and it’s all going to happen right before my eyes. But this morning….that was the kicker. I literally cried.

Last week my sweet friend dropped her 11 and 8 year old girls off to play with Dax and Wyatt while I ran up the street for a quick meeting. The boys were so happy to have friends come play and the four of them got along great. When I got home I asked how everything went and the report was great all the way around. I’ve posted before how Dax can’t remember anyone’s name. He is just horrible at it. So I knew, even after playing with these girls and swimming together afterwards, he would never, ever remember what their names were.

This morning when I was getting Dax dressed he showed me the train table in his room. Instead of train cars, tracks, bridges, wooden trees and anything else that had landed on the train table the past few days strewn all across the top in a big mess, it was set up like a perfect little train town. There was the train station in the middle with tracks going out each side, two bridges, a tunnel, a track around the mountain dotted with wooden pine trees and even a few houses around the lake. It was a way better set up than I have ever done for him. I was sure he was going to tell me how my niece had set it up for him when she was over playing, or maybe the babysitter Saturday night. No. None of those. He said, “Mom, look what my girlfriends built for me.”

He caught me so off guard. He has never said that word before. He kinda took my breath away. I said, “You mean your friends who are girls.” He wasn’t having that. He said, “No, my girlfriends.” Deep breath. Deep breath. I kept telling myself he was only calling them that because he couldn’t remember their names. It surely didn’t have anything to do with him really thinking he has girlfriends, he doesn’t even know what that is. I had to drop it. I couldn’t think about it one more second.

Except I can’t stop thinking about it. One day, a lot sooner than I think it’ll be, my son is going to have girlfriends. He definitely won’t want to be my shopping buddy anymore, or have me take him out to dinner or have a special date night and rent Alvin and the Chipmunks and eat popcorn with me. He’ll be wanting to do that with a girl. A girlfriend. I know I have years to go, but this is a little overwhelming. I’m no expert on being a mother to a boy, but this has got to be one of the hardest parts of raising a son, right? Having them leave you one day? It’s breaking my heart.

I guess all's I can do for the time being is accept those flowers he picks for me with pure delight and let him build me all the castles he wants with his Mega Blocks and Legos. I’ll pick him up and hold him when he asks me to even though that’s his way of saying he has to go potty and doesn’t want to stop what he is doing to go. And when he asks, I’ll stay in his room and lay on his bed with him until he falls asleep. And don’t tell, but as long as I can get away with it, I may just do like my favorite book says and once he falls asleep, pick him up and rock him and whisper, as long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be.

Because one day, those flowers won’t be coming to me. They’ll be going to a girlfriend. Just kill me now.

One Fish, Two Fish

Dax started swim lessons last week, one of my favorite things to watch him do. The first three days were a little rough, but by the middle of last week he was happily swimming, and starting to sport a nice little tan. He has a great little class and a wonderful teacher (even though she had to kick me out the first two days because the pool isn’t gated in and Dax was running around hysterical). But, once he settled in he remembered how much he loves being in the water and what a great swimmer he is. This is a little of what he’s been doing:

\float\-noun : something that floats in or on the surface of a fluid

\jump\-verb : to spring into the air : leap ; especially : to spring free from the ground or other base by the muscular action of feet and legs

\swim\ -verb : to propel oneself in water by natural means (as movements of the limbs, fins, or tail) b: to play in the water (as at a beach or swimming pool)

\kick-board\ -noun : a buoyant, usually small board that is used to support the arms of a swimmer, used chiefly in practicing kicking movements.

\dive\-verb : to plunge into water intentionally and especially headfirst \fish in a towel exhausted and cold after a late swim\ -noun : Dax 3 1/2 years old

Hot Dog

I think I am a bad mom. But I know without a shadow of a doubt I am definitely the mother of my son.

A few weeks ago Dax’s teacher asked him to fill out a tiny questionnaire about himself for his class. The questions started off with the typical questioner type questions: Where were you born? When is your birthday? How many brothers and/or sisters do you have? He knew all those, (except when he said “cake” for when his birthday was--silly). Then he started in with the really crazy answers. When I asked him what color his hair was he said he would be right back and ran to my mirror. He came back and answered very matter of factly, “silver.” OK, silver it is….60 years from now. When I asked him what his favorite song was he said “Do As I’m Doing” but didn't know any of the words beyond the first line, which is the same as the title.

There were a few more silly ones like that. Then came the answer of all answers....and reason number one that makes me a bad mom. I asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up. I have never asked him this. Ever. I kinda feel like that makes me a bad mom, that I have no idea what my son wants to be when he grows up. I couldn’t wait to see what he said. And guess what he said. He wanted to be a “helper”. Wow! That’s great I thought. "You want to help people! Kinda like how daddy does at work or a policeman or fire fighter, even a teacher" I was thinking. Nope. Not even close. When I asked him “a helper of what?” he says very unwavering, “a helper of making hot dogs.”

Awesome.

If not knowing what my child wants to be when he grows up doesn’t make me a bad mom, then definitely his obsession with hot dogs does.

I love hot dogs. I really do. I have for as long as I can remember. I’ll take them a number of ways. A nice hot dog on a bun with ketchup and onions, a chilidog smothered with chili and cheese, a corn dog, a hot dog cut into bite size pieces dipped in ketchup, macaroni and cheese and hot dogs, Costco hot dogs. I used to even roll a hot dog up in a quesadilla and eat it like a burrito. Boiled, BBQ-ed, microwaved, it doesn’t matter. If you lined every fast food restaurant in the world on a single street I would choose Wienerschnitzel every time. Even when I am pregnant and not supposed to eat hot dogs, I can’t help it every once in awhile. It’s a sick sick addiction.

Apparently my love for all things grinded meat has been passed on to my son because Dax loves hot dogs as much, if not more, than I do. Every morning I ask what he wants for breakfast and he says “ hot dogs”. Trust me, I have never given my kids hot dogs for breakfast, but I’d be lying if I said they haven’t had them two out of three meals a day.

So, if Dax wants to be a “helper of making hot dogs” when he grows up, then by all means I will support him 100%.

And if one day the two of us turn up missing, we just might have packed up and moved to New York to pursue our dream of owning a hot dog cart. After all, it is a 3.5 billion dollar industry.

Oh yes, I’ve researched that, and between Dax and I, we contribute very dearly to that number and the billions of hot dogs consumed by Americans.

National Hot Dog Month, we look forward to seeing you in July. Love Bryn and Dax