The cool things we’ve done since July

Played in the rain.

Played in the pool in the rain.

Painted ourselves.

Watched the road get chipped.

Built train tracks around the bed.

Threw stuff around.

Ate cheesy noodles.

Painted faces.

Among other things, not pictured.

Celebrating the 4th in the Midwest.

I’ve decided that I really appreciate celebrating Independence Day in the Midwest.  People in the small town heartland seem to be unabashedly patriotic.  The whole week we were visiting my parents, you could see American flags flown in people’s yards, special décor downtown, fireworks going off every night after sundown, and the day of the 4th it seemed everyone was wearing red white and blue.  Singing the Star-spangled banner in church and hearing everyone’s enthusiasm brought a tear to my eye.

Growing up in Colorado the fourth of July was my favorite holiday.  You might say it even topped Christmas and candy-laden Halloween.  I think I can see now that my Mom’s love for the holiday was infectious and she and my Dad always made the day really fantastic.  They would set up an elaborate homemade miniature putt-putt golf course in our yard and invite over a party of their own friends and their families.   (Luckily their friends were the parents of my friends).  Hosting big parties was kind of rare at our house, so I think it added to my anticipation.  After eating grilled meat and the accompanying baked beans and potato salad, we would drive up to Loveland and play card games and frisbee until the fireworks started over the lake.  The view was always excellent and the display spared no expense (or so it seemed to me) and I loved knowing that I was up really late as we all walked back to the car after the show carrying our blankets and following the slow procession around the lake and home.  Whether or not my parents did, I even have fond memories of the traffic (sorry if I complained though, Mom and Dad, I’m afraid you’re going to call me out and say that I whined about it) and the red glow in the car from all the taillights. 

Rosalyn and my mom watching the fireworks.

My mom really loves fireworks, so I always enjoy having her around to make appreciative comments.  I spent most of the night trying to get this picture (above) to work out.  I evidently do not know my camera very well, but I was happy that I got one that actually turned out well.  It was the first time that our kids had seen fireworks and they called them exploding rocks. 

A smiley face firework.

I like this picture from breakfast.  Rosalyn liked to use her charm to gain access to whatever it was that Grandpa was eating.  She was regularly successful and it made me sort of jealous since he eats berries in cream for breakfast. 

One day as we were driving back to my parent’s house with the kids the boys kept on saying “look there’s the sleeping silo!  Another sleeping silo!” Now, there are plenty of silos in Indiana, but there aren’t any around my parents house.  Finally, after much deductive thought and wondering about my kids and their imagination, I realized that there are a lot of weeping willows on the way to my parents house.  When I asked if they were looking at trees, they said “yeah, the sleeping silos.”  Funny. 

We took our kids to visit the fire station for the first time. 

Just as we arrived the fire engine drove out.  Here it comes, below:

Rosalyn found her doggie.

   Luckily there were plenty of other big trucks to snoop around on.  And luckily, we didn’t start any fires. 

 

 

 

Rosalyn is talking to the truck in its ear.

On the day of the fourth we had our good old friends the Davis’s come and photograph our entire family as a gift for my mom on her birthday (the 5th of July).  It was hot, and I was telling Kim that she should charge extra per degree over 95, but she’s a sweet gal and just laughed.  That’s professionalism, folks.  I am excited to see how they handled two 18 month olds, 2 three year olds, 3 kindergarteners, and 6 hot adults.  (Hot, like man my face is melting off hot, not like hot-bod hot.  Although, Nick is that… okay, mush, moving on.) 

They stayed for dinner and rockets.  My Dad has created a bottle rocket launcher, of the 2 liter bottle sort, and the twins and triplets rather enjoyed themselves with it.  My Dad is cool.

That’s my brother Bill, there, hooking up the compressor to the launcher.

Here’s a shot of Kim hard at work with her cute little man at her back taking a picture of my cute little man in his underwear.  You can just tell that we were having a blast. Pun totally intended. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

At some point during the week, we went to the Indianapolis zoo with my Brother and his wife Sarah and their family.  This isn’t the greatest picture, but you can see the twins and the triplets and jett and roz trying to touch a shark.   Always a good time.

Kids and sharks seems like a good way to end it.  Bye for now.

I have overcome.

Do you remember this Father’s Day fiasco?  The fiasco in which I attempted to make Nick an icecream cake the extremely easy way and it just, sort of, how shall we say? failed – despite the ease?

 

 

 

Well I’m not one to let failure stop me – some of the time.  And now instead of bragging about how Nick is a great Father (he is) I will brag about my cake. 

Isn’t it glorious? 

I am so skilled.

 

 

This is Brookston’s painting of Nick. 

He wrote the word Dad there too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A stick, a millipede, and a Hotwheels in a basket.  All a boy needs.

Rosalyn’s Mobile

One day at a park I found this amazing branch.  It was so unique and interesting that I carried it around with me for an hour or so, made my boys cry when I wouldn’t let them play with it, and lectured Nick firmly that it was not to be thrown out ever, because I was going to use it for something.  (Does this sound a bit like my topiary?  Yes. I don’t know what it is about dead branches that I just can’t resist.)

Then I had a baby girl, and the dead stick’s purpose was clear:  a mobile.

I must admit that I got the idea for it here:   but she’s no longer selling, and I can cut felt, so I did it myself.

I also made this no-sew bunting for her room.  I just cut the shapes and stapled them onto a golden cord.  This ensured that I would actually finish the project.  Though I love the results of sewing, I usually loathe the process of sewing.  I just make too many mistakes for it to be any fun. 

I want to do something fun to that globe, like paint it or decoupage it like this fantastic lady.

Monkey Roz

A couple of old men.

Three years old to be exact. 

The party started with some root beer.

And progressed on to some expertly not homemade cupcakes.  The party theme was vertical green lines.  You can see that I thought really hard about, and took a lot of time executing, my motif.  I learned it all from Amy Atlas. 

Brookston, the cheeser, and Everett the sweetheart.

Rosalyn and the Pops.

I get sort of weirded out on their birthday, and all I can think about is where I would be during their labor.  I wonder when that will go away and I won’t be so focused on myself on their birthday.  The day before their birthday I was telling Brookston, “right now I would have been in pre-labor with you for about 10 hours”.  As I checked the time I informed him, “yeah, right about now three years ago my water broke” (If you’re curious, it was about 9:00 p.m.).  He looked at me with concern “your water broke?  we should fix it.”  Awesome.

Anyway, Everett ate his cake about 5 hours after his birth time and Brookston, 3 hours before his birth time.

Want to compare to last year?  Take a look. 

So here is what being three looks like for Brookston and Everett:Nutella mustaches. 

A sister sleeping with a truck on her face.

While you sleep without a truck on your face during ‘alone time.’

Play dates in Thomas the Tank Engine underwear.

Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with friends in Thomas the Tank Engine Underwear. 

Weird crafts involving salty play dough and black spaghetti noodles. 

Painting wooden cars and keeping them in the refrigerator when you’re done with them for some reason.

Having baths with your friends because they were too muddy to get in the car to go home. 

Making up cool games like rolling out paper towel trails in the back yard when your mom is distracted with your sister …in your Thomas the Tank Engine underwear.

Driving your car down pink chalk roads in your Thomas the Tank Engine Underwear. 

Your mom craftily trying to teach you your letters.  You go with it because she gave you a buttery english muffin to munch on while you go.

Living the dream on your harley davidson tricycle. 

Happy Three, Boys.