Rope Swing!

I came into the kitchen this morning with the first goal being coffee and Libby says, "Mom, let's make a rope swing for our bedroom today. And let's do it while Daddy's not home so we can surprise him!"

Oh my gosh! She's Me!

It gets even better. Five minutes after our initial conversation, Shane came home and Libby says, "Daddy, can we build a rope swing for our bedroom?" He just stood there staring at her. And I think he's trying to find a way to answer without letting her down. And then he says (and I cannot believe my ears) "Um, lets go look at your room. Where do you want to put it?"

"What!?" I cannot believe what I'm hearing. He's never so eager to fulfill my ambitions. I usually get answers like:

"No."

"That's impossible."

"It wouldn't work anyway."

"That kind of torque on the eaves will ruin the exterior framework of our house."

Whatever.

But I've had a little revelation this morning.... He doesn't want to disappoint the adorable four year old when she asks. Ha! The possibilities! I need to take her out to lunch and explain to her how she has always wanted to add a second story to our house. One with a large master closet that includes a washer and dryer in the island.....

Later that day, the rope swing did get installed. But not in her bed room like she'd hoped. Don't you worry babe. We'll keep working on him together. And I think the goal was to make her happy. Mission accomplished (x2).

The Birth of a Cowboy....

I went back through my pictures and I'm pretty sure I know how my cowboy got to thinkin' he's a cowboy. To his credit, he did grow up around horses. His dad played polo and Shane even had a horse of his own named Small Wonder. He worked summers on a ranch from the age of twelve. I love to hear him tell his boyhood stories. In fact, hearing him talk about his dad, it's easy to see how those childhood days shaped the man he is now. So, I guess he's got some real cowboy in him after all.

In looking back to last month, there was a moment at the rodeo when he said to me, "You know how you can tell who's really a cowboy, and who's not? Real cowboys don't where leather hats in the summer. It's too hot. They'd work wearing a straw hat."

A week later, Tex picked himself up a gen-yoo-wine straw Stetson on our way through Sisters, and a real cowboy was born.

Slugo, the Eugene Ems Mascot

The girls' favorite moment was when one of the rodeo clowns, came out riding a pretend horse that lifted his hind end and sprayed the audience from his backside. Hysterical!

Aside from all that, can you believe I grew up in Central Oregon and this is the first rodeo I've ever been too? I guess I just see myself as more of a city slicker.

Not Cool

My plan for tonight was to be the cool mom. We went for frozen yogurt waffle cones at about 6:30 for dinner. And then, we headed to a park for some splash time, since the sun finally showed up today. Look at the happy faces at approximately 6:55....

Then, promptly at 7:00, the water turned off. Lots of disappointed kids scrambled around trying to find the button that would get it going again. There wasn't one. Peyton looked with them, and then she got mad. Bummer. We'll try again another day.

May Day Poo Poo!

These are both pictures of Peyton taken in the last month of what appears, on the surface, to be a simple inability to slide forward.

On a larger scale, I think, it's more an illustration of our child who gets herself into trouble and usually realizes it only after it's too late. A leap before looking sorta thing. By then, there may be any number of results. Crying. Panicking. Shrieking. Often a Time Out. And it's not just on playground equipment. Yesterday, we were wrestling and tickling, I made a motion to remove myself from her choke hold, only to have her grab a handful of my hair and yank. I mean YANK. The look on her face that followed said, "I know I'm in trouble here. I really shouldn't have done that. I don't know what went wrong. It all just happened so fast. May Day, May Day! Someone? What's my next move?!"

I'll catch her having a dialogue with herself sometimes and when I interject with something like, "Peyton, I love you." Her reply without missing a beat is, "No you don't."

Ugh. What is that? She's quick. Witty. Funny even. But sometimes she so says the wrong thing and always before there's even a thought. Ah, and therein lies the problem. There's no time for a thought.

And she's at that age where everything is funnier when followed by the words "poo poo". For example, "I love you poo poo head Libby (suprisingly, Libby does not feel the love). I'm wearing my poo poo panties! I saw that man's poo poo nose! I love poo poo water balloons. I see Grunny's poo poo bottom! I'm wearing my leggings so you can't see my poo poo pooooooper!"

You get the idea. Three is sooooooo the new two.

When we got home from camp today (sticking her bottom in my general direction): "Mom, where is my lunch and my poopie buns?" I think she was telling me she was hungry, but actually making sense is always secondary to including a poo reference. Sigh.

A Jersey Girl at Shasta

(and I don't mean Snookie).

Usually, I'd have just included these photos with the first Shasta post, but I got so many good pictures of our sweet friend Jersey (and her sweet family Chris and Gwen) on our Shasta trip that she gets her own post. Are you kidding me? What's not to love about a dog that will sleep floating on a tube?....

Tuckered.

Wanna Play?

A Girl and her Wubba.

Family

Shasta 2011

We're home from another great vacation at Shasta, and watching our girls in the water gets better and better. Libby loved the water from day one. Peyton needed a little more time, but she was swimming without anyone holding her on the last three days. If you asked them though, they'd probably tell you that the best part of Shasta is that they get to eat Oreos for breakfast and consume as much candy as their cousins can get them. Also, going to bed filthy is a total bonus.

Our little fish.

Wake Boarding

Warming up under a towel.

Playing at camp.

This year's weather was cooler than normal. Usually, we're soaking up 100-110 degree temperatures. This year, it hovered around a cool 85. It was nice, actually. Now, if summer would reappear in the Pacific Northwest, that would be great too.

Jayden. Isn't he cute? Here's what you can't tell just by looking at him: he has a way of getting his little cousins to do things I cannot get them to do. First, he listens to what I say. Then, he takes my words, reworks them, wraps them in a beautiful package, puts a bow on it and delivers the message back to them in such a way that makes doing what they're supposed to so much more desirable.

For example, at breakfast I told Peyton, "Eat your pancakes.", which she promptly did not do.

Then Jayden said, "Peyton, for every bite of pancake you eat, you can poke me in the brain." (or something to that effect) That, of course, was wildly appealing and she started shoveling pancakes in just as fast as she could. Hey Jayden, how would you like to live with us?

Chillin'

Dad's Boat

Shane playing a game of Corn Hole in camp. You heard me right. Corn Hole. It's like a glorified bean bag toss. With cocktails. I can't play because I get too mad when I lose. In that way, for me, it's like a lot of other games.

Look at these filthy feet. And I did not wash them before tucking her into her sleeping bag. And we both lived. Happy vacation to me!

On the dock, heading out on the boats.

Hangin' Loose

Peyton and Daddy get comfortable in the water. There is more to this picture than meets the eye, and I'm feeling compelled to share it. On the day before we left, Shane and I both went to the dermatologist to have our sun damaged bodies given the once over by someone who knows skin damage. Knowing though, what the doctor would say, Shane was proactive and bought himself a hat about a week before the appointment to protect his ears. Look at the shade over his ears. Good, right? His ears did not get a single burn this trip. Mission accomplished.

However, what I could not have predicted, is that I'm married to a man who now believes he's an actual cowboy. We call him (thank you Antone) Tex.

Before Shasta, while doing some shopping at Costco, Tex turns to me and says, "You know what? The thing about wearing a cowboys hat is that it sends a message. It says to people, 'I can kick your ass.'"

"Huh. Really?" I said, "See that guy over there? The huge man wearing a tank top and overalls, who's shopping with his wife? Let me go ask him if that's the vibe he's getting from you." And as I turned toward this man, I could feel my badass husband resist the urge to tackle me to the ground because A) real cowboys wrestle calves, not their wives, and B) the man in overalls might've kick Tex's ass for kicking my ass. He did however, quietly, desperately, pleadingly beg me to come back and not talk to this man about anything.

Now if you asked him about the statement his hat makes, I think he'd just tell you that his wife made him go to the dermatologist and he's trying to avoid a sunburn.

This was the day Peyton decided to swim, "All by myself!"

Getting graceful....

....and growing confident.

Peyton snoozes after a day on the water. This wagon has a story too. Shane named her Helga. I'll tell it to you later.

Jamison turned THIRTEEN while we were there. Thirteen! Emphasis on teen. Can you believe that? He eats like it too. What I wouldn't give for the fire burning oven that is his metabolism.....

This last series of pictures I'll title The Best of Tubin'. I think the girls rode every available tube and loved them all. My favorite is the last one, which is my dad's and seemed the least likely to launch them if we hit a wake. We're raising water babies....

I had to include this one because from our perspective this is how they looked for most of the ride. Libby was having a blast and Peyton was safely tucked down so as not to get splashed in the face.

This pic is a good summary of our week. I love vacation!