Farm blogging, Day2

Today's farm morning was brought to you by the Buzerak's Garden. The Buzeraks live just down the street. They have something like 17 sons and very very large golden retrievers. Thank god all of them are sweet.

Walking with Gram and Dad



Aunt Em and Uncle Travis on the Buzerak's hill.





These are some birch trees I saw on our walk over. We don't have birch trees in Austin, I don't think. Probably because they need water orsomething ridiculous like that.


I was trying to teach Hopper what a dandelion was and how he had to blow on it. He kept looking at me like I was nuts so I just finally told him that it was HOT and he needed to cool it off. THIS, he understood.


There are fresh raspberries for the picking there.


which Hopper thought was awesome.


He might have crammed a few (dozen) into his mouf.

And perhaps a bug or two.

Rowan helped with the cabbage.

This is Sky. She's a very happy dog.

She was helping to keep an eye on the toddler.

She was also checking to see if he had any breakfast left on his face.

We were also there to pick up some pork. Which was a bit awkward when we were trying to make conversation with these guys.


picking blueberries


The berries really are pretty awesome.


as are the fresh scallions.




Everything's just so GREEN. It's amazing.

The tub

it's probably true that a SMARTER person would have maybe chosen to use the kitchen sink for a baby tub upon finding out that a shower is your only option at the farm, but then a SMARTER person wouldn't have gotten to see this.















somebody likes the shoooowwwerrrr.

The Not Hopper

Admittedly, I was getting a little excited that Hopper was turning out to look more and more like me with his big brown eyes.... til I saw these.

these are not Hopper, by the way*.



They're Sam at Hopper's age.

*yeah, I know. that's a tall-boy. Apparently, some things never change.

Farm Blogging, Day One

Oh hi! is this thing on? I know, I haven't been around. I was going a little nutty trying to get things done before we left town, speaking of which: WE LEFT TOWN! yayy! I don't know what it is this year, but I am just OVER the daily frying of Austin Summers. Good thing we opted to go somewhere where it was, like SIXTY degrees this morning. That's a 6 and an O. and DEW, as in, WATER on the green green grass. Don't be jealous. We're at the Farm:



It's nice and cool here and not dessicated. And there's wildlife (see Ferdinand the Frog)




There is a brook here that is not just a divot of earth filled with dry rocks.


Hop's mind was blown by this, so he kept looking at it and yelling "WATER".



And then he and Gram wanted to go down into the water...


Yeah, that ended as well as expected.. You'll note his now drenched outfit hanging on the clothesline here.



Here Rowan is hanging with Meryl the Cat.


and in front of the barn.

and flowers!


and man, it isn't even noon yet. Just think of all the fun we'll have.

Meet the Boogers

dear, sweet Jesus. FINALLY a version of The Wheels on the Bus that doesn't make me want to rip my own eyebrows off. This is major.

File Under: What the?

There's a group of ladies at the daycare that are either working there or drop off the same time I'm there, so we see each other every weekday morning about the same time. Normally, it's "Hey, How's Rowan's Mama?" and I point to the large bags under my eyes and go "up since 4:30 am" and they chuckle and commiserate. And sometimes we talk about other things, like the incredibly stupid and/or innappropriate sayings they put on baby onesies and kid t-shirts. I'm not talking like sarcastic ones "no hablo" (that one actually cracks me up) or ones that are just inane "daddy's my hero!", I'm talking about ones that are DISTURBING on kid's clothing. Like "Take me to Bed or lose me forever!" (next to a teddy bear, I shit you not) or like "Daddy's Little Wing-Man" (really?? Daddy needs a wingman in diapers? How 'bout daddy keep baby home from the bar.) Or, "Mommy's Sloppy Kisser" (Hopper actually has a pajama shirt that says this...it aint right). We've had this informal ongoing contest to see who can come up with the worst one--reporting on new ones we've seen every week. Like the kids shirt I saw that said--"I'd rather be naked." (on a onesie, maybe. On a size 5t shirt, honey, NO). Today, I think I can honestly say that I ran across one that cannot be topped.


"I tore mommy a new one"...above a line of stitches.

I still cannot even speak.

Plinkies!

Plinkies, you may remember, are blog topic prompts you can get sent to you via email from Plinky.com....assuming you are tired of talking about spitup and/or dog farts. (psh, like that happens).

What do you wish you spent more time doing?
Snoring softly in hammock hung between two very large shade trees with a nice cool breeze.

Describe your best friend from childhood.
My best friend from the time we were about 4 years old to fourth grade was Amy Peck (Hi Amy! We're Facebook friends). She lived down the hill from me and we were inseperable. She had a mass of curly hair (still does and it is still fabulous) and a supercool record player. We were always dancing to Ronco Records Funky Favorites or making things out of the red clay in our yard. Or improvising new gardening methods involving ripping the blooms off of her mother's carefully tended flower beds and burying them 3 feet deep in other parts of the neighborhood. Just fyi, Amy, I visited one of those spots twenty years later and THEY FINALLY BLOOMED.

What's the best news you could receive right now?
ooooh, this is a toughie. I know, but I don't want to jinx it.

If you suddenly ran into your most recent ex, what would your response be?
oh, I don't have any "recent" exes. Sam and I dated forever before we got married and for a few years before that, I never dated anyone for more than 2-3 months. So, for a "recent" EX, we'd have to go back, like 15 years?? gah! First of all, I think we probably wouldn't even recognize each other if we passed each other on the street. And if we did, we'd be like "DAMN, WE'RE OLD." But then, I'd want to sit down and have a drink and shoot the breeze because, a long time ago, we were friends and we didn't end up that way-- which is too bad. Totally justifiable and necessary at the time, but too bad. So, I'd sit down and have a beer and tell stories about what life is like now with my boys and Sam and the dog farts and everything else, because MAN, you wouldn't *believe* how much has happened since then.

how long did it rain?

It rained last night. Like, REAL rain, not like the little *poof* of sprinkles that happened a couple of weeks ago that was so weak, most of it disappeared about 2 feet above the dessicated ground (yeah, that's right, I used "dessicated" for the 2nd time in a blog post in as many weeks, you know why? BECAUSE IT'S ALL DRY AND S@*T). Anyway, so in case you were curious, it rained for over 3 hours last night. I know this because

1:00 AM I was awakened by Mr. Bean barking hysterically in the backyard, having been "locked out" of his dog door by the screen door shutting in the wind, thereby cutting off his access to the house. So, when I went to go let him in he was sopping wet.

2:15AM A newly dried Mr. B planted his stank butt next to my side of the bed where he and Fergus engaged in a fart-off so vile it woke me out of a dead sleep. It was still raining.

2:40AM when my alarm went off for getting up to go pump that LIQUID GOLD that is breastmilk, it was steady pouring outside. The sound of the rain almost lulled me into falling asleep sitting straight up on the couch...if only there weren't suction cups attached to my chest.

3:15AM as Rowan finished his freshly produced bottle and opted NOT to go back to sleep, I noted he thought the lightening and thunder was just delightful. He sat and gurgled at it for a good forty-five minutes.

By the time the puppy started howling at 5:20 this morning, it had stopped though.

Five of Ro at 5 months

five months old today..

Things that are not what they seem..

Because you are probably tired of pictures of how cute my kids are (I know how tiresome their unrelenting adorableness can be), here photos of random crap I have run into lately

1. This Bird. I know, he looks curious and friendly, right? Wrong. This bird is an idiot. I can only guess that he's from out of town or he ate some wonky tree fruit but this winged moron keeps running into my office window headfirst. FWAP! then he flaps around for ten minutes before flying off and doing it again 3 hours later. He's done it about twelve times since, like, last Thursday. And when I get up to go check on him he gives me a look like "WHAT?"

Dumb bird.

2. This. I know. It looks like I managed to take a hipstamatic photo of Greenland.

It's actually the amount of butter I had to scrape off a piece of garlic bread I got from HEB. Seriously, Mr. Harry E. Butts, this is egregious use of butter. Butter Foul. Ix-nay on the Utter-Bay. Shudder. I'm still a little nauseous.

3. uh oh, sorry, I forgot about this one. This appears to be my son giving the puppy a loving kiss. Yeah. Right before he sortof launched him into the air. Note to self: don't tell a two year old to "Put the puppy down RIGHT NOW" He will take you at your word. This may or may not result in Flying Puppies. oh don't worry, I caught him. The Besh lives. The Besh is less fond of two year olds at present, but that was bound to happen sooner or later.


4. oh wait, this is EXACTLY what it looks like. A foam mace toy that I bought at Target for $1.


Nothing says Happy Fun Times like a Medieval Killing Weapon made soft and sponge-y, amiright?

what kind of fun stuff have you been running into lately?

Dads

Dad, I remember when your mustache was black...It must be all of that fast livin' you've been doing. Why don't you slow down--drink a beer, play quick draw with Matt Dillon on Gunsmoke and try and find some poor little grandkid who doesn't know the "Pull My Finger" game.. Oh wait, you already do all that. Well, then, just try and have a great Fathers Day--Love you!

And to Mike, Thank you for being as great a granddad as you are a stepdad. You've got a heart of gold. Happy Father's Day!

weekend report

you know, I haven't forgotten about Artful Mondays. In fact, I had one I was going to do for you guys today, but I spent a fairly large portion of my day yesterday ripping out carpet, prying up tile from 1973 and prepping floor for...I don't know what yet, but it's going to be good.( I'm working on putting together something cool for Hopper's Big Boy Room. I have a THEME! And it isn't "FUN WITH TOILETS"!!) Anyway, so I spent Sunday pressing my Soft as Lily Petal hands into hard service so today I got nuttin' for ya. Except Band-Aids and a whooooole lotta regret about that Not Bothering To Find Gloves Before Ripping My Hands To Shreds thing. So, I know it's not a Crayola Work of Art, but how about some real pictures from our weekend, huh?

First off, I know that in some of the pictures lately, it looks as if Rowan's hair might be settling down. Let me, uh, set you straight on that one:

He still looks like the Love Child of Carroll O'Connor and Johnny Rotten.

In Older Child News: Hopper's torso has grown about twelve inches since April, I think.


We opted to go on a Walk Saturday evening as the sun was starting to go down and the temperature felt a little less than 115 degrees. I let Hopper push the stroller. It seemed like a good idea at the time.


you'll note how happy Rowan was afterwards


Here is a picture of the dogs playing. Ok, well, Hudson and Bean playing, while Fergus rolls in either poop or something dead.


Last week I shaved Hudson down for his yearly IT'S 115 DEGREES OUTSIDE haircut. He has been rolling on our dessicated backyard nonstop ever since.


yall don't laugh at how dumb his tail looks. He's already pissed off enough at me.

so, what about you? What did you do?

I'm outnumbered.

If this was Friday night, I wouldn't care that it's 10pm and I'm sitting here listening to Hop play his Leapfrog Guitar in the other room (in Spanish, btw) despite the fact that I've told him 527 times not to get out of his bed again. In fact, if it were Friday, I'd just let him stay up til Midnight if he wanted because then MAYBE, I'd be able to sleep past 5:30am the next morning. And if it were Friday, I'd go ahead and just have another glass of wine and not get irritated at the fact that he has taken apart yet another spiral notebook and there are 500 pieces of small paper on the floor and he co-opted the trashcan from the bathroom because why, Why, WHY, WHY IS THE TRASHCAN IN YOUR BED?? And I wouldn't care that he is only two but has already mastered the teenager's art of IGNORING HIS MOTHER. But it isn't Friday, I'm tired, we have to get up in the morning. And so, I just told him for the 528th time to go to sleep and that if he doesn't get in his bed by the count of THREE, THERE WILL BE CONSEQUENCES... and he just laughed at me because, dude, he doesn't know how to count.

Look, I know you don't want to hear about my kid's bodily functions. Hell, I gave birth to them and I prefer not to think about it myself. But just so you know: there are CHANGES IN THE WIND at Ye Olde Doghouse.

For one, Rowan has started on solids. And by "started on solids" I mean, we engage in this futile sort of activity every evening where I try to spoon an oatmeal cereal mixture into his little bobbing maw while he laughs and smears it either straight up his nose or so completely covering the lower part of his face to where some of it eventually makes it onto his tongue. This was supposed to help satisfy his hunger. That, uh..has not happened. In fact, the opposite seems to have taken place, like it turned on some sort of switch where the kid would prefer you feed him ALL THE DAMN TIME, thanksomuch. In fact, if you could sorta kill that whole sleep thing in deference to POURING SOME MORE MILK DOWN ME GULLET THAT WOULD BE GREAT. And let's not forget: what goes in must come out. Usually in some sort of spectacular arc, missing the diaper completely, in the middle of the night. gah, yall, he is killing me over here.

Oh and Hopper has started potty training in earnest. By that I mean: he tells us when he's going to whiz and usually (not always) manages to make that happen in the correct spot (i.e. not the living room floor). We're not quite ready with regards to the, ah, OTHER MATTER. In fact, about 25-40 times a day, you will hear him yell "I POOP!" Approximately 98% the time he is bullshitting you, but he has learned that those two words will get a reaction out of the adults in the immediate vicinity. It's called DUCK AND COVER. That's because the other 2% of the time? God help us.

This song made me want a nice big margarita on the rocks (no salt) on a Monday afternoon...even more so than I usually want one.

Imaginary Conversations between Rowan and Bechamel*, Part One:

B: Dude, Is that smell coming from your HEAD? or your diaper?

B: I mean, REALLY..

R: Whatever, dude, who ever smelt it, dealt it.


B: Blaaaerrrggh.

(cut short so I can extricate puppy's head from infant death grip).

*oh yeah, his name is Bechamel. Like the sauce.