A Fall Day at the Park

Journaling

You'd never guess, but I'm a terrible journal writer. I occasionally write about really important events in my life long after they occur.

So I was pleased today, when in Nicole's class, her teacher introduced them to the concept of keeping a journal. I think it will be a skill that they develop throughout the entire year. Rachel's example for the children was that she had visited the zoo, and would hence draw a picture of the animals she saw and write a short sentence to accompany the artwork.

I figured Nicole would follow suit (as many children did) and write about one of her previous trips to the zoo, when in fact the point of the exercise was to write something unique and personal. Since Nicole wasn't sitting at my table, I had to retrieve her journal page from her folder to look at her cute work.

I was surprised when I read this instead:

Todayy I am goi to Lagn.

At the bottom of the page, in a teacher's handwriting, it read, "Today I am going to Lagoon." In the middle was a self-portrait next to a ride that Nicole is too small to ride on (that's what she told me when I asked her about it -- neither of us know the name, but I think she meant the giant ball where people pay extra to be catapulted into the sky).

Nicole has been excited all week about going to Lagoon tonight. She's told everyone she knows and I was happy to see her write about it in her journal (especially in her kid spelling).

Since tonight is Lagoon's first evening under the guise of Frightmares, perhaps I can get Nicole to write a recap of her Halloween date with her daddy at her favorite Utah attraction.

Juste Pour Rire

Before graduating from BYU in journalism, I took the dreaded and required Communications Law course. (I proudly boast the highest grade for that semester at 93% -- everyone else was so jealous and my parents tried to convince me to pursue a career in law.) My professor was a lawyer in every sense of the stereotype. My class met once a week and the teacher droned on for all three hours (sometimes he kept us after class, too!). We all took furious notes, hesitantly answered questions when put on the spot, and couldn't wait to leave when the bell rang (figuratively speaking).

However, there was one highlight to this class: every session was prefaced with a ten-minute joke fest. Students were invited to share their best, but inevitably, our witty J.D. always provided us with the most humorous entertainment.

And this is where I got the idea to begin my classes with jokes, funny pictures or videos circulating the email highway. Like me in my former years, my students loved this part of the day (except unlike me, I hope they enjoyed the rest of the class hour, too!). About a year ago, my brother sent me a video called Rip Pants (funny, slightly inappropriate to post), that my students loved. Nicole even saw it a few times and couldn't stop laughing. At any rate, Eric has just sent me another video from this French (Canadian?) group who loves to pull pranks.

Take a look, have a laugh, share with a friend.

My First Post-Harry Potter Book: Austenland

Pros: Short, easy read; Don't have to be an Austen fanatic to follow
Cons: Shallow, unbelievable, unlikable characters
Recommended: No

Review:
I can't believe I actually finished this book. I'm one of those people that just has to know how it ends, no matter how lame the plot (which, by the way, was different than anticipated thanks to a misleading back cover synopsis).

The main character was a single, 30-something with a full-time career and a history of terrible relationships. Since I married at 20 and had kids soon thereafter, I found it hard to relate to many of her thoughts and actions.

The main character was named Jane, which I found cliché, and the names of the other characters felt forced (e.g., Miss Charming) or hard to pronounce (e.g., Miss Erstwhile). I also had a difficult time picturing the characters since there was relatively little description provided on them (hair color, body size/shape).

By the time I reached the end, I was hoping for a bit of saving grace, but found the finale over-the-top, absurdly ludicrous, and eventually disappointing.

If you're looking for a quick read, this is definitely it -- but for me, it wasn't even worth the little time spent.

Gender Roles

Nicole asked me for help with this worksheet from her new book from Quincy. Nicole correctly guessed that this image portrayed a doctor.

Curious, I asked her, "Nicole, do you know any doctors?"

"Yes. Dr. Beus." She answered in an oh-so-obvious tone.

"Is that all?" I pushed.

"No. Dr. Daddy, too."

(I have never heard her call him that, nor has anyone else called him that before.)

Then she added, "But this (pointing to the page) isn't a doctor. This is a doctor-nurse."

Then she also wrote nurse to clarify. Now no one will get confused.

Traditions

Clint and I love traditions, but we don't have any of our own. Around the holidays or special occasions, we talk about them usually try a few new ones out each year, but nothing has stuck.

I've heard of families where the mom cooks the birthday person their favorite meal for their birthday dinner. I thought this would be fun and I also thought Nicole would get really excited about it since I rarely fix something she likes to eat.

However, as the dinner hour grew nearer, I couldn't bring myself to go to the store, dirty a whole bunch of dishes and then spend the evening cleaning the kitchen. Fortunately for me, I had the sense to know beforehand that such a tradition would have been short-lived.

Instead, we took the kids out to dinner (something we haven't done since Grant was itty-bitty) and let them order whatever they wanted. Nicole ordered a plate of mac 'n cheese, which I knew she wouldn't eat because it would inevitably "look different" from whatever she was expecting. Normally we don't care if she wants to starve instead of eat, but we felt terrible to have her hungry on her birthday and watching all of us eat in front of her. We told her we would take her to McDonald's afterwards for chicken nuggets, but when our waiter and his clan showed up with a birthday song and fudge sundae, the chicken proved unnecessary. Honestly, how often can a kid eat ice cream for dinner? (OK, in our family, perhaps a little more often that should be allowed, but still ...)

Nicole said the birthday song made her feel "big inside." It's not a five-year-old big -- it's an "I feel special" big. It's something she learned at school. They've told the children that when they treat others disrespectfully, it makes them feel small inside, and hence the contrary is also true.

After dinner, and since we were already at the Gateway, we played at the children's museum.

This proved a fun evening for the birthday girl and the sibling, making this a tradition that we just might keep!

She's a Big Kid Now

I suppose you remember everything about your first child. Five years ago, my OB came home early from his vacation to deliver Nicole at 3:30 a.m. on a Saturday morning. I was so relieved to see her, because prior to her birth, I had nightmares about delivering an ugly baby (isn't that awful?!). My first words when I saw her were, "She's so beautiful!"

Here are some of my favorite pictures of Nicole throughout her years. They're not my favorites for photogenic qualities, but because they show her personality.

This is the day we brought her home from the hospital. It was a lovely Sunday afternoon.
This is Nicole's first smile and my mom happened to catch it on camera while learning to work a digital camera. Nicole was 10 weeks old at this time. This is also when she started sleeping through the night. It was bittersweet for me: I loved being able to finally sleep through the night myself, but I greatly missed holding that sweet baby in the middle of the night. It was our time -- just the two of us. I used to warm her bottles with this insane machine that took three minutes and she could never wait that long. I eventually gave up on the bottle warmer and started warming the bottles in the microwave upstairs (besides, this helped me get in my exercise!). Every night we sat in the most comfy chair while she gulped her 4 oz. by the glow of the night light. She was such a clockwork baby: 20 minutes from mom up to mom down.
Nicole's favorite pastime at my parents'. I never remember her getting into anything else. (She had other behavioral issues -- keep reading.)
We didn't have the same Tupperware cupboard as my mom (of course) and one day I found Nicole like this. Good thing the oven was off!
Nicole has always loved reading -- even before she could read. I can't remember why I had Nicole's car seat in the house (I think I had just washed and reassembled it), but I do remember that this was one of the only times that Nicole actually liked her car seat.
See what I mean? Nicole never completely managed to escape (fortunately), so this was as close as she got. My family frequently reminds me of how I had to sit on top of Nicole to strap her in. She was a tough cookie!
I will have you know that this was not Clint's idea, nor was it an isolated occurrence. Nicole and Clint still reload shotgun shells together. She could do it for hours ...
You can't tell too well in this particular photo, but Nicole's hair finally fit in two piggies. Must be a shocking revelation to some of you since I am constantly told about how thick Nicole's hair is. No, she wasn't born that way. One of Clint's sisters has a kindergarten photo with as much hair as Grant -- I was certain Nicole was doomed to inherit the same fate.

This kite was brand new and it got caught in the trees three times before we gave up on it. We were able to retrieve it, but never got the courage to fly it again. Such a sad tale.
This picture of Nicole in the spring of 2004 reminds me so much of Grant. Both of them have the same laugh and love to play tricks.
I don't know how this could possibly have been fun, but Nicole loved Clint to read his medical books and notes from class to her.
Nicole acting the part that she has amazingly mastered: finding peace and serenity even if Grant is screaming his lungs out. Somehow she is able to completely tune it out. Won't she make a great mom?!

Happy birthday, All Grown Up Girl!
Thanks for five years of laughs, smiles, and love!

Issues

Do you know how many times my mom has told me the good ol' days when something broke, it wasn't tossed to the curb, but rather repaired.

In defense of my family, I must say that it's not entirely our fault. Items these days are lacking a touch of, je-ne-sais-quoi -- quality! For example, what kind of a paper shredder cannot withstand and recover from a wooden puzzle being shoved inside? Or what about a plastic storage box that is unable to support the weight of merely two children bouncing atop without dire destruction occurring? How about a lousy cell phone that succumbs to death when immersed in orange juice?

If only manufacturers could mend their fowl ways ...

Douglas's Truck

This shabby hunk of black metal was purchased from a Utah county lawyer named Douglas. Late one evening, Clint and I drove the kids to Douglas's house to take the sleek Suburban for a test drive. Since I'm not into cars, the kids and I waited inside Douglas's mansion with Douglas and his wife while Clint took the wheels out for a spin.

Their house was entirely immaculate. Douglas's children were all grown and he had no grandchildren yet. There were no toys, no books, no dirt, and no kids anywhere. At one point, they tried to find the Disney channel on TV, but only came up with some filthy adult cartoon from Cartoon Network (did I mention it was late?). For desperate need of entertainment, Douglas's wife started tossing some of her soft plastic coasters onto the floor for Nicole and Grant to retrieve and count one by one. It was so incredibly boring, that when Clint finally arrived fifteen minutes later, I was ready to wait out the negotiating time in the car -- our already owned, nicer-looking car, that is. Nicole and Grant, however, had different plans -- they quite liked Douglas's house; and when we left, Nicole kept asking when we would visit them again.

Now we haven't seen Douglas, his wife, or their house since, but Clint and Nicole have formed a solid bond with Douglas's Truck (I still maintain a strong aversion to it). They take it camping, they go to the movies in it; heck, they even take it to the car wash together! In Nicole's opinion, Douglas's Truck (this is actually what we call it) is superior to the Tahoe because (1) she gets to ride in the front when she's alone with Dad (no airbags); (2) when she occasionally has to ride in the back, the windows roll all the way down; and (3) it has three rows -- so if she's mad, she can ride really far away from everyone else.

So the other night, all of us were in the Tahoe (not Douglas's Truck) and passed a house that had its garage doors open. The driveway was completely full of miscellaneous items and, since the doors were open, we noticed the garage was also -- to the point that no cars could be parked inside.

Clint commented, "What a lot of junk!"

"No kidding," I chimed in.

"What's wrong, Mom?" Nicole asked.

"Nicole, we are anti-junk in our family. We don't like junk all over the place," I told her.

Smart-mouthed Nicole retorted, "Nuh-uh, Dad likes junk -- he likes Douglas's Truck."

We all laughed -- except Dad.

Truth hurts.

Misconceptions

I was startled the other day as a fellow playground mommy said to me with a bewildered expression, "Really?! I never would have guessed that about you!"

And so it is -- commonly mistaken ideas about Lorena:

1. "I'm late, I'm late -- for a very important date!" I thought my most obvious character flaw is my incessant tardiness. My famous last words as the kids and I leave for anywhere is, "Hurry up, Nicole! We're late!"

I don't like to be late -- it's just that I'm always trying to cram as much as possible into every time period. So if I have an engagement at 6:30, I will work until 6:25, then run out the door as fast as I can. It's ludicrous, I know, and a shame to my dear mother who is early for every occasion.

There is one exception to this terrible habit of mine: I am generally on time for church. But only because I know how much it upsets Clint to be late, so I try really, really hard to be on time for events we attend together. Plus, when the clock approaches departure time, Clint starts pacing the hallway, wondering if he dare ask if I need any help getting ready. Makes me jittery.

2. While everyone knows my favorite color is white and my fantasy house is all white, not everything currently in my house is white. In fact, all of the wood in our abode is oak with a light stain, our seven-year-old couch is tan, and the picture frames are black.

Nearly everything else is white, such as linens, plates, walls (of course), baskets, cleaning gloves (available at Wal-mart). Perhaps one day we'll finally construct the ultimate white house complete with white cabinets, floor coverings, seating, vases, lamps, etc. One day when I don't have anything else better to do with our money (like that will ever happen). A girl can dream, can't she?

3. I don't budget. Ever. I know how to budget; I have even budgeted in months past. But it's been years since I have balanced a checkbook or typed an Excel sheet to itemize my monthly expenditures. Why? Because Clint and I are in a very comfortable groove that works for us. We each prudently purchase what we desire and somehow the money magically appears in our account each month to cover our expenses. (It's almost creepy -- like those princess accounts with no limits set up by their rich daddies. I think ours, however, is more along the lines of federal loans and high interest rates. Our day of reckoning isn't too far off, though, I suppose.)

4. I love parties. I like to host and attend. While I may appear reserved or not as socially active as some, I make time for at least one holiday party per year at my place. Doesn't sound like much, but I really like to go overboard. I plan the menu a month in advance, deep clean for a week, and cook for an entire day.

5. I'm not crafty. I don't like to make crafts, look at crafts in my house (either half-way finished or completed), or store them year-round when they're not on display. More extreme is I don't like to decorate for holidays. In fact, two of our nearly seven married years, I have convinced Clint that it was OK that we didn't set up a Christmas tree. Just call me Scrooge.

6. When it comes to projects, I have a short attention span. For example, my sister is able to quickly (within a day or two) crochet a beautiful afghan. As for me, if my project isn't finished within an hour or so, I dispose of it. I hate unfinished work; thus work that takes too long to finish is avoided or discarded. This is why I crochet wash cloths instead of blankets.

7. I love reading fiction, but since I got married, I have only read the Harry Potter series. I can't seem to justify sitting down with a book now that I have a place and people to take care of. Plus, I don't want to start reading something lame and then be forced to finish it -- just to know how it ends. (Trying to turn a new leaf, I actually checked a book out of the library today that was just for me. It's called Austenland and comes recommended by a friend. I'll let you know.)

8. I don't know how many people fall into this category, but I hate change. I can accept change if (a) it's my idea or (b) I'm given a very long time to ponder it and make a decision. I had a very wise accounting teacher whose lectures often drifted into counseling sessions for college students. I frequently quote two of his most poignant catch phrases: (a) Money now is better than money later; and the one that is applicable to this point is (b) If I have to decide right now, my answer is no.

9. Although I complain about dogs and how icky their oily skin makes carpet and how gross it feels to step out of the shower onto dog hair, I really do like dogs. Like people, though, all dogs are not created equal and I have a clear weakness for chocolate labs. I love to massage their ears and let them lick me. I think it's cute when they roll over on their backs and let their feet dangle limply in the air while they wait for a tummy tickle. And every time I see one play fetch at a park, I nearly succumb to the idea of buying one (good thing they're not allowed here).

10. My ability to enter confined (or on the contrary, vastly open) spaces decreases with each passing day. As a very young kid, I vividly remember my brothers throwing a dark brown blanket over my head to prevent me from witnessing a terrifying scene from Nightmare on Elm Street. While I'm grateful to have been spared the exposure to bad cinema, I think this is where my tale of clinically undiagnosed agoraphobia began. I used to think I was merely a claustrophobe, but a few years ago, Clint took us through a never-ending stretch in Death Valley and I thought I would not make it out. I actually remember thinking to myself at one point, "There are no cars within 100 miles of us. A hospital must be at least 1000 miles away. If our car broke down right now, we will die here, like the Donners." Illogical, stupid and embarrassing to admit, but I couldn't enjoy our time there and will not be returning (even though we saw some really cool geologic wonders). PS: This picture of Death Valley is not its most impressive site -- it's just the one that I stared at for literally hundreds of miles before we finally drifted into a community able to support intelligent life.

I have tons more quirks, but I'd better quit now before I don't have any friends left.

I Want an Easy Button

Staples.com says they're working on a way to get this button to actually do projects for you, so check back periodically for updates.

Today was one of those days ... You know the type -- up to my eyeballs in laundry, Grant throwing his cup of milk on the floor, Nicole clumsily hurting herself right before going to school because she's tired (at least she ate lunch!), getting a parking spot so small that we had to shuffle out of our car through the trunk (no joke!), running out of ink to print an important document ... and just think, we're only half-way there!

Sometimes I think to myself that I must be taking the hard route; that other people have discovered a shortcut to the easy path and have failed to share their map with me. Yet still, as I carried a very tired baby boy inside the house today (after having dropped off sister), I thought about how sweet my kids are and how all of this work is a bargain of a deal -- just so I can enjoy the pleasure of their company (on most days).

Yes, at the end of the day, I may be one worn-out mama, but at least my life is full of people I love! (I'm still not giving up on the easy button concept, though -- it may come in handy during those teen years.)

Something's Awry

A couple months back, I took to de-junking in the kids' room. Since I work more efficiently when Blondie's blasting on the radio, I inserted my fave CD into Nicole's radio. Sure we danced, but, boy, did we ever work fast, too!

So today, even though I'm not amid a cleaning frenzy, I had an urge to jam out to Blondie in the car. What I found in my purse, however, was Disney Classics. Meanwhile, I checked back in Nicole's radio and found ... my beloved and long-lost Blondie Livid CD.

At least this girl's being brought up properly, with a distinguished taste for fine music and all.

The BIG Announcement

After much ado, we finally have a name!

Scott Hugh Humpherys

No ifs, ands, buts, modifications, or opinions, please. We like it the way it is and hope you will, too. If you don't, we hope that it will grow on you with time (hopefully before Scotty -- I think that's a cute nickname, even if I can't decide on a y or ie ending -- arrives).

Jokes

A long, long time ago, I was a Reader's Digest subscriber (I know, dark secret!). Looking back, I think the only reason I quit the subscription was because we moved and I never knew if we'd be living somewhere long enough to start up another year. Since that time, I have only purchased single editions for special occasions (like sitting in an airport for long periods of time -- which, by the way, is no longer an issue since I have two tag-alongs who insure that I will be entirely unable to focus on anything besides them for more than one millisecond, with length of time decreasing daily).

Last night, when I intended to made a quick trip into Dan's, I ended up waiting in the checkstand queue for so long that my gaze drifted to the magazine rack and I read the headline on this month's issue: Laugh Riot: Our Funniest Issue EVER! I immediately knew that this should constitute a special occasion, as I would probably enjoy it twice as much at 11:00 p.m. that night than I have ever enjoyed it during an airport sitting. (Not to mention, regular jokes become exponentially funnier the later the hour.)

Lengthy introduction to my favorite jokes of the zine, but with a twist. Some of the jokes made me think of particular family members; so if no one will be offended, they will each be labeled with a name -- starting at the top! (Please don't feel left out -- these really were just the funniest!)

Dad
A new computer virus is going around. Office workers everywhere will now be forced to play solitaire with real cards.

Mom
The passengers were settling into their seats for the flight from Orange County to Dallas when an attendant came on the PA system. Instead of the usual admonition to "Please turn off all electronic devices," she put a creative new spin on it: "Repeat after me. 'Goodbye. I love you. I'll talk to you when I get to Dallas.'"

Denny (Don't you know him at all?!)

Tom (Poor Tom, always on the road. I don't know what's worse -- Tom doing his own laundry on the road or Sarah having to run three weeks' worth of smelly clothes through in one evening.)

Shari (I think she should have a bumper sticker made with this on it.)
People say that money isn't the key to happiness, but I always figured if you have enough money, you can have a key made. (Originally coined by Joan Rivers.)

Matt (Just reminds me of something he might actually do ...)
Days after I moved into a new condo, my neighbor came over to welcome me. At the end of her visit, she said, "By the way, my husband said he'd give you $20 for your wind chimes."
"He can get them cheaper in a store," I pointed out.
"I know, but he wants yours," she said. "They've been keeping him up at night."

Learning to Eat Solo

A few months back, I watched in amazement as my friend set her 18-month-old up to the dining table and placed a plate of waffles with syrup and a fork in front of him. Even more astonishing was that the baby didn't even make a mess! I thought to myself, "Grant's only 16 months. I'm sure he'll be doing the same thing in a couple of months."

Here we are four months later, and I have finally given Grant a chance to prove himself worthy of self-feeding. So far, he's managing to get food in his mouth (which, I guess, is our main goal), but he's lacking skills in the neat 'n tidy department.

We've only tried yogurt so far, and I don't have any plastic plates to give him (I'll be looking for white ones this week).

Cross my fingers, but no broken dishes or cut fingers yet -- just one dirty and very full baby.

The Campout

Everyone's been dying for a recap, considering that our "adventure," as Bruno likes to call it, turned out more wild than any of us had envisioned.

Setting the Stage

Being my first time visiting Flaming Gorge, I was oblivious to the fact that what is normally a 3 1/2 hour commute (however, I later deduced that this is only for those who drive 80 mph the whole way there) would turn into a 5 hour commute pulling a loaded camping trailer up and down the endless Wyoming mountain ranges.

This being said, we didn't arrive at our campground until after 11:00 pm. It took nearly two additional hours to build a fire, refeed the kids, set up two tents (for Eric & Jen's family and Bruno) and get everyone back in bed. Whew!

River Rafting for Life

Early the next morning, the gang (minus the two babies and me) set off on the three hour run down the Green River. At the time, though, we thought it would only take two hours, so Grant, Emily and I waited ramp-side for an hour throwing rocks and irritating the nearby fly fishermen. (Mostly useless trivia: Flaming Gorge is the third most desirable fly fishing location in the U.S., boasting 14,000 fish per river mile.) When the red raft finally came into view, everyone looked happy -- even Bruno who had a hook deeply embedded into the back of his neck from Eric's last cast. Oops.

The group met me with a unanimous, "Let's go again!" All of the adults agreed the river was mild enough to take even the youngest among us, three-month-old Emily. So we loaded eleven humans and the three hundred fifty pound raft into the Tahoe and drove to the river head.

Out of everyone, Grant was most resistant to go because he didn't want to wear a life vest. But since he couldn't very well stay behind on his own, I sat him on my lap and tried to show him how much fun it was. The fun only lasted for ten minutes, when the thunder and lightening began. We knew we had a chance of hitting "scattered thunderstorms," but the day had been hot and sunny so far. Some of the children were scared at the sound of the thunder, but we kept paddling until the slight drizzle turned into a torrential rain and soaked all of us to the bone. The babies were the ones in the poorest shape because they were fully clothed, while everyone else wore swim suits. At any rate, we finally found a spot to dock the raft and hide out (under some scanty trees) until the rain subsided. It was here that Emily was stripped to her diaper covering her bum (important distinction) and reclothed with a dry onesie, black garbage bag, and disposable diaper to cover her head (look closely). We were obviously very desperate people. We watched in amazement as groups passed by us, with seemingly no ill effects from the rain (they all wore ponchos). I swear they were laughing at us as they floated peacefully down the river in the flood rain. We eventually had to get back on the raft because it was going to get too late and dark before finishing the trip if we didn't. Plus, all of us were freezing cold and we only had a few snacks with us and nearly all three hours of our trip ahead.

Before we made it to the end (which, of course, we did because I'm alive here to write about it), we had to pull over one more time (and stayed inside an exposed red rock cave) to wait out the rain. So, four and a half hours after start time down the river, we finally made it to the car. We rejoiced like the passengers of the Mayflower, "Land!" Safe to say, no one wanted to go rafting the next day.

Our Best Day

We spent our last full day in Flaming Gorge by waking up late, eating a large breakfast (as opposed to Lucky Charms), taking a tour of the dam and swimming in the lake. We spent hours and hours on the "beach" and all of the kids said that was their favorite part of the campout. That had to run a close second to eating smores for every meal, though. I mean, come on, how often can a kid get away with eating chocolate smothered marshmallows for breakfast? (For Nicole, camping has become synonomous with no rules governing food choices.) Since Bruno has a slight phobia of water, he only got as close as sticking his feet in the watery sand. The kids buried his feet and found it quite funny.

Cutest Lines

While Nicole and Travis sat at the picnic table facing the fire, I heard Nicole say nonchalantly, "Travis, thanks for listening to me." He nodded, like boys do.

Apparently Nicole and Travis had a little spat our last night there (I didn't hear it). The morning of our departure, Nicole traveled to the opening of Travis' tent and proclaimed, "Travis, let's forgive each other and be friends."

"OK," Travis agreed, "I forgive you."

Nicole finished, "I forgive you, too." And they played like nothing was ever wrong.

Clean Up

Worse than sitting in a raft soaking wet, worse than sleeping on a small mattress, worse than walking around in the dirt with sandals is cleaning up after camping. I think our family's portion alone accounted for eight or nine loads of laundry (including all of our blankets). Clint hosed down the trailer and the truck, which were both splattered with red mud (hence the name Flaming Gorge). And then there was the unpacking ... aarghh! The unpacking!

All in all, I think that camping takes at least as much work and money as heading out for a hotel-themed trip. But the hotel version wouldn't be nearly as savage, as Bruno says.

Or as fun.

Going to the Mattresses

I've never seen The Godfather, but I have seen You've Got Mail -- and now is the time to for us to pick the best name for our baby. Clint and I are planners; we like to know the gender in advance so we can name the baby in advance; so I can monogram the blankets in advance (you get the idea). We've never been the kind of people who like to see what the baby will look like before bestowing a name. We always know the name before we go to the hospital -- and we like to share it with everyone, too. Seeing as Nicole is almost five, I think it is more important than ever before that we name this baby while in utero so she can get used to the idea of another sibling invading her space (and practice yelling, "No, _____!" and "Quiet _____!").

However, Clint and I have never had so much debate or strong feelings toward separate names before. Now it's safe to say that both of us like our options, so there's no animosity. That being said, help us name this baby!

First School Project

Have you ever noticed how teachers have a way with finding ways for parents to spend their time? Yesterday, Nicole was bouncing off the wall when she was selected to take home the Frog and Toad Suitcase. Each day, a child is randomly selected to take Frog and Toad on an adventure, write their story, and then bring everything back to share with the class the next day.

Seeing as we haven't even unpacked from camping yet, a Frog and Toad adventure (even though it's an adorable idea) wasn't on my agenda for the evening. Four out of the five previous students had taken Frog and Toad to the park. So we wanted to take them somewhere new. Nicole's been begging to go to the ice sheet by our house, but when we couldn't get them on the phone to find out their hours, I suggested that Frog and Toad might enjoy a trip to the pet store to visit other animals. As you may very well know, Nicole has been wanting a real pet for quite some time. I thought she might secretly enjoy visiting the animals, too.

However, Nicole answered me thus, "Well, I'm just not going to that store unless you buy me a pet." Getting later by the minute and running out of options, I agreed to "look and see." Nicole tells the rest of the story in her own words ...And we actually bought a REAL frog! Nicole was so excited and said to me, "Yea! Now I have a LIVE pet, mom! That's so much funner!" (Next time we're going to the park!)