A harvest-festival kind of weekend

So this weekend was busy, and apparently exhausting, if how I'm feeling this morning is any indication. We hit a couple of different festivals: the Arvada Harvest Festival on Saturday and the badly named but very fun Harvestival, in Wellington, Colo., yesterday. Both days were fun days, and the latter let us take another long drive in this state we both love so much. We took 287 (instead of the interestate) north, and it goes through a bunch of little towns like Lafayette, Longmont (where I used to work), Loveland, the not-so-little Ft. Collins and so on. Unfortunately, another wildfire broke out west of Loveland, and what was a single and small plume of smoke as we left at 10 a.m. yesterday turned into something much more major by the time we drove home in the late afternoon. So sad.

The highlight of Saturday, for me anyway, was watching Wilder do the Eurobungy (photo below). Wilder usually wants to try stuff like that but will, at the last moment, decide his personal safety is threatened and back off. This is also known as chickening out, I think. But he took one look at this contraption on Saturday and had to do it. And do it he did ... he was a bit little for it, and had a hard time maintaining the bounce of the bungy, but he got some good height and really impressed me with his bravery.

Sunday's festival was way more mellow, which is just what we were hoping. Jerry got to see one of his personal heroes, Joel Salatin of Polyface Farm, speak. That was great. And we also got to see cool stuff like old school buses turned into chicken coops, a trebuchet demonstration, tons of baby ducks, massive tractors, a livestock viewing area filled with cows, llamas, sheep, pigs, donkeys and a goat and more, and a hay maze that I think Wilder could have spent all day in. The boys had fun, but I think we all need a day of recovery today.

This coming weekend, Jerry and I are headed to the Great American Beer Festival on Friday night. And the boys are headed over to spend the evening with their cousins, Allie and Colin, and my brother and sister-in-law, Jay and Deb. I cannot express how happy it makes me to know they'll be there while we're out sampling a bunch of yummy beers. Having family around is not something I will ever take for granted.

Signing off ... enjoy the photos.

The boys and Jer check out a massive tractor.

The Boo-Boo Chicken Coup Bus.

Zoning out at the Arvada festival on Saturday.

Wilder after conquering the Eurobungy!

Bungy boy bungy!!

Hunter feeds some sheep. "Heeeeere sheep sheep sheep. C'mere girl." So cute.

Wilder hay-bale hops.

Jer and Wilder check out the baby ducks.

Baby ducks!

Hunter (who insisted on wearing his Home Depot apron he got at the previous day's festival)

Late summer stuff

Just a few shots from the last week or so. The pictures of the boys were taken this morning. It was such a cool morning that I had to put them in long-sleeve shirts. I love this time of year in Colorado when you can wear shorts and sandals with a nice warm shirt.

Not much going on. The boys continue to love their school and we're just enjoying being here. Betty and I get to take long hikes in the surrounding open space a few times a week and, as you can tell from the last photo in this post, if often wears her out. Her tongue length when panting is directly proportionate to the length of the hike and the temperature out. She's learning what it means to be a Colorado dog!

I anxiously await this weekend. We're packing up after Jer gets off work on Friday to head to Beulah, a little mountain town west (I think) of Pueblo. On Sunday or Saturday afternoon, we're borrowing our Beulah friends' Eurovan and taking the boys to Grand Sand Dunes National Park. I've never been, despite my many Colorado stints ... always nice to see things through the boys eyes, but particularly nice to see NEW things through their eyes. EuroVan camping AND the dunes ... I'm hoping for epic awesomeness!

xoxo. k.

How cool is this?

Two pictures from our playdate today with Reagan, 5, and Peyton, 2.



Reagan and Peyton's mom is my oldest friend and one of my best friends, Karen. On one of my first days of first grade, in walks this little tow-headed munchkin that no one had ever seen before. My teacher, whom I think was named Mrs. Leininger (Karen, am I right?) says: "Kristi, can you please show Karen where the milk is at lunch?"

And there you have it. We've been friends pretty much ever since, even through my many moves to Colorado and then Texas and then back to Colorado (that doesn't even count the latest moves between these two states ... sheesh!) In fact, Karen and I were roommates for most of college, and she lived a few doors down from me in Apartment P (I was in "L") when I met Jerry. When we bought our first homes, we were but a couple miles apart. We used to joke that we'd probably live together when we're 90 years old, taking turns risking our lives driving to the grocery store.

So today, it was pretty awesome to see our four kids playing together. And even better that they all got along so well. I forsee many more such days of four little tow-heads from a different generation bobbing around the playgrounds north of Denver.

We're baaaaaaack

*sneaks back in the room; tries to pretend like she never went anywhere ...*

Well hello everyone. Yes, seems I took a little hiatus from blogging. Things happen, right? I mean, I think in the realm of excuses, I have some pretty good ones. I had a hangnail, after all. And it was a really hot summer. So hard to type when those things happen.

So anyway ... we moved to Colorado. Wait, let me retype that: WE MOVED TO COLORADO!!!!!

(OK, I'm back. I had to change my pants.) Yep, after many, many years of little prayers sent up into what felt like the void a lot of the time, and many, many discussions with Jerry, and then another couple of years thrown in for good measure and just to make sure I properly appreciated what we were getting ourselves into, we're here.

Every single day I get to turn left onto 112th in this new town we live in, Westminster, and see pretty much the entire Front Range laid out before me.

Thank you, Void. You have been more than kind to me.

Anyway, I don't want to get too ambitious with this, my first blog post since the Cretaceous Era. (Translation: The boys need breakfast.) I just wanted to say that this morning, I had one of those mornings that contained within it a scene that will no doubt be among those scenes that play out before your eyes when you're being delivered into the Great Beyond. The boys had climbed into bed with me and wanted to make a tent with the bed sheet. We were "hiding" from Papa, and they just had such sweet and excited smiles on their faces there in that soft, sheet-darkened morning light. I watched them, squeezed my eyes shut tight to imprint the image on my brain. And then I got my camera phone out to take some pictures. Here they are:

(PS. And oh, btw, if you're reading this, let me know in the comments below. I'd like to know if anyone still comes here. If not, I'll make sure to strong-arm ya'll into coming back ... much love.)

I was home for the 4th and I had a wonderful time. It was so odd as I ran up to Kris and the boys to actually see them moving. I felt like I had been looking at pictures in 2D for so long that to see them in real life was almost surreal.

Not that it had really been all that long. Weird.

Hmmm. I have just looked up and realized that I am posting on The Brothers Scott. Whoops! Picassa photo publisher defaulted me to the family blog.

Well in any event, seeing Kris and the boys was wonderful. I had a fantastic time. Wilder and Hunter were awesome, I played more rounds of 'Fight' with Wilder and Hunter than I have played, probably if you aggregated them all previous, in one weekend. The fireworks were awesome. Kris was fantastic. Jeff and Ginger and Patrick and Maggie and all the kids were a delight.

All in all it was a wonderful weekend. It was terrible to have to leave, but I know its temporary and I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Its tough to realize that this is probably the first blog post my Grandaddy will never read. he would have loved this picture of Wilder. So sorry to have missed out on the chance to see him one more time. So sorry he didn't get to hold Wilder or Hunter one more time. I feel very happy to know tho, that he got to meet Mary Jane.

Love all,

Jer

Funny boy

Just now as Wilder was going to bed, I was lying in bed with him, ostensibly to sing him a song, but really, we usually just lie there and cuddle and chat and try to make each other laugh. Tonight, he somehow managed to connect his elbow to my eye socket. As I held my eye, moaning a little, he leaned over and kissed it very gently.

Very sweet.

Then he told me: "Sometimes, when you get hurt, you need a kiss. But I hope it's not your feet that are hurt."

Long pause filled with the sound of me giggling.

"Actually," he continued, "I hope it's not ANYONE'S feet that get hurt."

More pause, more giggling. Then, when I'd composed myself, I said: "Yeah, but if I did hurt my foot, you'd kiss it, right?"

"No mama. You'd just have to go to the hospital."

Then we both laughed, me much harder than him, until Wilder had to ask, "Mama? Can you talk?"

Man oh man oh man I love this kid and his wonderful growing totally awesome sense of humor.

Long time no post

I think for the first time since I started this blog, I let a whole month pass without posting. My apologies to readers, if there are any left. It has been quite the first quarter of the year. Jerry worked some crazy hours and often wasn't home until late at night and gone also on the weekends. With it pretty much behind us now, I think I can safely say it sucked mightily but we all weathered it pretty well, boys included. That said, when I told them that I was taking a trip and Wilder asked, "But who will take care of us?," and I responded that his papa would be taking off work to stay home with them, he all but pushed me out the door. "You can leave tomorrow, Mama." I mean, I'm surprised he didn't offer to pack my bags, pick up my Traveler's Checks and find me a ride to the airport.

Speaking of Wilder ... my is that little boy growing up quick. This past week he has started calling me "mom" (instead of "mama") more often than not. I just NOW caught him getting his own bowl of cereal (a first) and he's joined his first tee-ball team. Lest we get too carried way, let it be known that Wilder really should be on one of those teams named the Rockhounds or the Buttscrathers or the Starers of Things In the Great Beyond. He is not, shall we say, picking up on the big picture. I practice with him in the front yard, and he does pretty great. But put him in a large group of other likeminded little monkeys and he loses all that he's learned. Hit the ball? Run randomly toward some point in the ball field only Wilder is aware of. Oh, and did I say run? I don't know what I'm talking about. Wilder kind of lopes. He lopes kind of like a mentally challenged pony. I mean, I love my boy, but he only gets his hustle on if he thinks that either A) it's a race, or B) a fire-breathing dragon is running behind him.

He'll come around, I'm sure. This kind of stuff used to really bother me. The bemused and slightly exasperated looks on the coaches faces would be getting under my skin like no one's business, and I'd probably be that mom on the sidelines hollering my face off to "stand up!" or "move!" or "catch ITTTTTTTT!" And, while I cannot help myself -- I do occasionally offer encouragement in the background -- I do know that it really doesn't matter how well he does; it matters that he tries and has fun and that when we do find something he's both good at and loves, we recognize it and encourage it. A sure sign I've matured and become a more patient mom? He will practice in the yard with me almost daily, he tells me he wishes I were his coach, and -- probably most importantly -- when he tells me he wants a break, we take one. No questions asked.

Finally, thanks to these boys, at the ripe old age of 38, I'm learning some patience.

So, yes, Wilder is growing up. He is so fun. He laughs with wild abandon and declares his love of the "whole world!" and tries to torture his brother sometimes and sometimes sleeps in bed with us now and adores all things dragon-related (especially reinforced by last weekend's outing to "How to Train Your Dragon" ... highly recommend that flick) and rides a scooter now and will be cruising along on a new bike here soon.

Hunter, as you probably realized, turned 2 in March. I didn't realize it, but apparently he's lost most of his baby fat. Birthday party guests remarked on his slimness ("WHERE did that belly go?"). Hunter talks a TON -- way more than Wilder did at this age, but no doubt due to Wilder's constant steam of consciousness now. He is constantly surprised by the world around him (Mama, BUS! Mama, tractor! Mama, kitty!), and one of his most favorite, and my most loathed, phrases uttered goes like this: "Mama, I JUMP!" which is typically followed by the biggest shit-eating grin you've ever seen plastered on a face and a huge THUMP on the floor. Ninety-eight percent of the time, that's followed by more jumping and thumping. Occasionally, he miscalculates and it's followed by copious amounts of tears. But the boy is tough. Very, very tough. For now, anyway.

Well, I could probably go on for quite some time. It's been a while since I talked about the boys on here, and they've done lots of growing, but my dryer buzzer just let me know that there is haus frauing to do.

Will try to post some pictures later today.

Twinkle Twinkle duet (sort of)

Wilderisms

So I'm constantly trying to think up new ways to get Wilder to focus, listen, do what I tell him ... OK, threaten. Today I told him if he didn't listen to whatever it was I was trying to get him to do, I was going to rename him "Wilder Trouble Scott." He didn't like that and quickly complied.

Then, a few minutes later, on our drive home from school, he was trying to get my attention. "Uhh, Miss Cherry?" he said, quickly realizing that he was calling by his teacher's name. "Um, I mean Mama? Wait, I mean Trouble Mama?" He's quick, that one. He pretty quickly incorporates anything new into his lingo.

For example, another phrase he apparently learned at school today I've been hearing all afternoon: "Mama, you are full of baloneys!"

Kid cracks me up.

Monday Monday (with Hunter)

Wish I could write more lately, but with Jerry working all kinds of hours, me starting a new part-time position at my old workplace, and the millions of other ways that life pulls and pushes at you, I just don't have a lot of extra time. I did get a chance today, though, to take the camera outside and follow Hunter around with it. (The REAL camera, not my camera phone ... which makes a huge difference but which I don't do often enough these days ... seems things like smart-phones and Facebook are shunting my creativity ... hmmm).

Anyway, here are some pics of my baby boy this morning. Is he not getting cuter every day? (The one of him smelling the chalk pretty much proves the genes from my side of the family have taken over ...)

Bye bye crib

I don't know what came over me yesterday. Well, no, that's not true. I do, or at least I think I do. Jerry goes back to work the day after tomorrow. That return will officially start tax season, and because of his transition into a different position, this will likely be the worst tax season we've ever endured. Translation: Jerry will almost NEVER be home until some time in April. I've taken some measures to ensure we don't lose our minds around here. The boys will both be in school 10 hours per week, I'm trying to hire a neighborhood teenager to come play with the boys two or three nights a week and on one weekend day so I can cook dinner/work/hide in my room and cry/mutter/rock back and forth. That kind of stuff, and more.

My point is that I'm trying to plan, to get those things done that will need to be taken care of before Jer's extended absence. So yesterday, without much thought, I decided to tackle Hunter's room. To move the big bed in there, re-organize his clothes so that what doesn't fit is out and what fits is in. To organize what was once a changing table to a toy organizer (he barely fits on there anymore). Etcetera etcetera. Wilder, by the way, is increasingly my and Jer's little assistant and he was quite helpful in the whole endeavor. He was also VERY excited for his brother to be out of his crib.

Hunter was also pretty excited about the new bed and set up a chair to leap from onto the bed. Kept running across the room and launching himself onto it. Kept rolling around with his stuffed animals on it. Still, the first nap and the first bedtime ended, after much crying, hollering and fussing, with him going back into his crib, which we've kept in the room for now. He wanted to be in the big bed, but it was all so new as to cause much consternation.

But now, as I type, he lays in there peacefully zonked out. The third time was the charm. So, what I'm almost positive is my last baby is no longer a baby. The crib is out. The only thing that really remains are diapers, and I'm sure I won't have quite the misty-eyed reaction to seeing those go that I've had to the crib. More like dancing around the room, waving my arms above my head and singing "Hallelujah!"

And to Hunter, one of the sweetest baby boys who ever roamed this earth ... I feel like this marks the end of an era, in a sense. So let me have a few words: Hunter, you are AMAZING. You are this wonderful combination of sweet, loving, affectionate, rambunctious, crazy, joyous, cranky, calm, confident and creative that lights up our lives and fills our home with much laughter and love. I cannot have imagined a more perfect addition to our family. I love you so much, sweet boy, and can't wait to see your barrel through more of life's challenges and adventures.

Here are some photos from the last couple days.

Happy happy joy joy LIGHTS!!

Tonight, after dinner, we headed out to Liz Simmons' house in the Hollywood Heights/Santa Monica neighborhood of Dallas. Every year, Simmons goes ALL OUT with her 150,000+ lights display. It is truly incredible, not only because it is so dazzling but because she recycles a lot of stuff in putting it together. Everything from some old vintage plastic owl decoration to an old mega-Skyy vodka bottle (her entire front walkway is lined with old bottles filled with Xmas lights). It is notable for both its abundance of cheer and funkiness, which somehow for me outshines all those other generic lights displays I see around town. They're nice, too, but Liz's just rocks my world. I find it impossible not to be happy there. Anyway, I posted some photos over on Facebook ... you can find them here. Mwah!

Video time

The video above is of Wilder singing some song he's learned at school. It might be hard to make out, but he's singing about the artists they've studied so far: Monet, Mondrian, Cezanne and Michelangelo. I particularly love the flourish he gives to the "Michelangeloooooo!" part, which comes near the end.

One of two videos I got of yesterday's Christmas program at W's school.

And the second video. The blurry blog of color at about the 1 minute mark is Hunter dancing on Jerry's lap. And yes, that's my child pointing repeatedly at the audience at the end, as if to say: "No, you guys! You guys, my fans, are GREAT!" Wilder is so awesome.

Oh really? Care to confirm Uncle Ty?

Me to Wilder: Where does Uncle Ty live?
W: In Uncle Ty City.
Me: And Uncle Jay?
W: In Uncle Jay World ... and Uncle Ty lives in a fashion show.

Bwaaahahahahahahaha!

Snow Day! On Jer's Birthday!!!

OK, so the use of explanation points in the title of this post might be a little overkill. But suffice to say we were all pretty excited that it was snowing on Jer's birthday yesterday shortly after we woke up, with Wilder and I both taking credit for it (at least in our own mind's, if not out loud) and with Wilder declaring that it now "must be Christmas!" for it clearly can snow on no other day. ;-)
At any rate, it was a great day for all involved, I think. I've been remiss the last few years in making Jerry feel as special as the birthday guy should feel. I think it has something to do with the fact that it's damn near impossible for me to get anything done without surgically removing a boy from the top of my head. But this year, we pulled it off.

Below are some photos, of the snow and the festivities. Enjoy. And love to all.

Didn't turn out as good as I'd hoped, but I still love the hugs.

First taste of snow.

Hmmm, it's kinda cold out here.

Wilder kept commanding me to "taste the snow, Mama. TASTE IT!"

Bundled up and ready to ... stand stiffly and wonder what the hell is going on out here?

Wilder ... so pleased.

A post-cake game of hiding under/over the coffee table.

Zee chocolate-mustacioed one!

Poking the cake. Good game.

First, a taste test.

They were supposed to look like a "4" and a "3"

Wilder, VERY excited about lit candles. And who can blame him.

The tiptoe button

Just now we were driving home from our friend Ginger's. She'd watched Hunter for me this morning while I joined Wilder at his school for the Thanksgiving party, which was fun and I'm glad I got to enjoy it without having to chase my littlest one around ... thanks G!).

Anyway, we were driving home well after Hunter's usual nap time, so he passed out in his car seat not five minutes into our drive. At some point, Wilder noticed, right as I was saying something to him.

"SHHHHH!" he commanded me, waving his hand in the air to indicate that I should shut it right then and there. Pointed at Hunter and gave me a very stern look.

"It's OK," I said. "We can talk quietly."

"No, Mama. No talking. Just drive," he whispered. And then: "And make the car tiptoe. Where's the tiptoe button???"

I love the things he says. Clever boy.

Hunter: not quite a mama's boy, but not quite not

Hunter is at that point in his developing toddlerhood where he has set preferences and clear opinions. For instance, he likes Jerry to pull him out of his crib first thing in the morning. If I go in, he gets mad, hollers, "no no no no no! PAPA!" At which point I shrug my shoulders, head back to bed and tap Jerry on the shoulder as I begin a glorious fall back into the soft contours of my mattress and pillow. This sometimes even happens when Hunter is napping during the day, when Jerry is at work, and after the bit where he hollers at me that I should not deign to live his hefty little butt from his slumber, sometimes literally telling me to "GO AWAY," I let him know he's in for a long wait and walk back out the door. He comes around eventually.

OK, so I'm kind of flippant about this, and I try to remember that sometimes the boys prefer me for other things, and also look on the bright side -- I can get an extra few winks in the morning or just lay in bed taking a little more time to wake up, which is great for an a.m. crankpot like me. But truth is, it does cause my heart to ache just a twinge when he sends me packing, demanding his papa.

Cut to this morning. Hunter woke up. Played in bed awhile. Then started calling out "Papaaa!" Jerry got up and took him out to the couch. Every morning, Hunter insists on taking his blankie, his doggy and his froggy out of his bed with him and cuddling on the couch with all three. Apparently, after he'd been up a few minutes this morning, he started gathering all of his lovies up and launched off the couch and started heading toward the hall that leads to the bedrooms.

"Where you going?" Jerry asked.

"Where's Mama?" Hunter answered, as he continued on his march.

A few seconds later, he wandered into our bedroom, calling my name. "Maaaaaaamaaaaa?" Walked over to the bed, looked up, saw me in it and demanded: "Up???" Then he crawled into bed with me, arranged all his prized possessions around me, laid his head on my chest and grinned at me.

Of course he then proceeded to roll around like a sumo wrestler, at some point butt-slamming my nose with his ample behind (we don't call him Captain Longcrack for nothing). But still, it was a sweet moment that I'll cherish.

Wilder: Helping a brother out

It never ceases to amaze me how sweet Wilder can be. We received a toy catalog in the mail a few days ago, and he's been going through page by page circling things he'd like for Santa to bring him — so much so that it's now pretty dog-eared.

But now, having searched through it exhaustively for selections for himself, he's now spent a good portion of his day finding things that Santa can bring his little brother.

We also look at the Christmas Countdown online every day, and his response is: "Oh maaaan, that's gonna take forever!"

Affirmation is sweet

There have been a number of (particularly trying) days since I started staying home with the boys back in February of this year when I wondered if I'd made the right decision by quitting my job. Today those concerns were put to rest.

Wilder just woke up from his nap. It took him quite awhile to fall to sleep, so he'd been in his room for a little over three hours. He woke up in a great mood, and was all stretches and sleepy smiles. He pointed to a toy in his bed and told me he was sorry for bringing it into bed to play.

"It's OK," I assured him. "You napped and that was the important part."

"But I missed you," I added

"I missed you too," he replied. And then he paused, and followed that up with this:

"And when I was a baby, I'd miss you all day when you went to work. I missed you so much."

"So you're glad I'm home with you now?"

"Yes, Mama. I'm glad." Big hug.

Leaves! Fall! Fun!

Me = destroyer of life

So, being a mother of boys, and specifically of two boys aged 4 and 1, I really never thought I'd hear the phrase: "You're ruining my LIFE!!" uttered. And, if I did ever hear it, I figured it would be many, many years.

Leave it to Wilder, our resident expert in drama. On the way home from school today, perhaps due to the very warm weather we're having, he asked if we had any popscicles. No, I replied. "Well," he demanded, "you need to go get some. You need to take this car to the food store RIGHT NOW AND GET SOME. Do you hear me, Mama? I WANT POPSCICLES." (Note: This very clear desire was uttered after about five minutes of him talking and me wondering what in the hell the string of words coming out of his mouth could possibly mean ...)

To which I replied: "Well, your Lordship, while it is clearly my job to grant each of your many daily wishes, we're NOT going to the store, but we ARE going home to have lunch."

Wilder: "So we're not going to the store?"

Me: "Umm. No. Correct."

Wilder: "Mama! You're ruining my life! I need popscicles and you won't get them and NOW YOU'RE RUINING MY LIFE!!"

Which was followed by about two minutes of: "Mama! It's NOT funny! Stop LAUGHING!!"

The name game

Wilder, who has renamed himself Thunder Wilder Snowman, just asked if we can rename Hunter thusly: Baby Hunter the Cat Petter. Man, this kid cracks me up sometimes.