Too much to do.

I like being active. I like having things to do. I do NOT so much care for things I HAVE to do, or for being busy. Lately we have been very busy. Very very busy. It seemed to come on all at once, too, which is making it that much more difficult to adjust to. For instance, we used to average going out about two times during the week. Now we go out every day. That means getting dressed (in something other than sweats) every single day. That's a lot of clothes. Which becomes a lot of laundry. Which makes us even busier! But alas, we shall adjust-we are in fact getting used to it, but there will always be a smidge of remorse for the pajama days of new family-hood.

The positives of being busy all the time-the kids are really enjoying all the new activities they get to participate in with school and all the new friends they are making. I am enjoying the village feel of our school and the fact that we now know everyone well enough that I can run down the hall without hauling all three kids, so long as there's a parent in the room where I left them. The kids are comfortable enough that it doesn't bother them for me to pop out for a bit, and Kiera just soaks up all the attention the parents give her.

Garrett is taking swim lessons now, in a saltwater pool here in town. He loves it but is still struggling with fear of sinking. It's sadly funny as he is the tallest kid I've seen there (he surprised his teacher by proving he could indeed touch the bottom), but at the beginning of class he clings to the teacher like a toddler (or a cat trying to avoid a bath). It only takes him a few minutes to warm up and be more confident, so I'm sure that by the end of his session he'll be swimming passably well. Morgan is not as excited as the rest of us as she doesn't get to be in the pool, too. But then Saturday rolls around, and she gets to don her dancing dress and shoes for dancing class. And while she often drifts away from the group and does her own thing seemingly ignoring the teacher, at home she demonstrates what she's learning with grace and enthusiasm (meaning she can skip and wiggle with the best of them).

Kiera is rounding the bend to 5 months old, and reached a milestone last night-she sat up! She did it quite well, too, so now all we need to do is find adequate motivation for her to keep doing it. She doesn't keep doing something unless she sees a need for that particular behavior. Take sleeping through the night, for example-she did it for awhile, tried it out, but as she can sleep whenever the heck she feels like it she has decided it really isn't necessary to do so much of it all at once. Last night she was awake for an hour for seemingly no reason. She wasn't asking to eat, wasn't complaining (unless we tried to get her to sleep), just wasn't asleep. Oh, and why is there a reason to keep sucking on a binky when you can use a thumb? And why keep sucking on your own when you can reach Mommy's? Which is apparently much more satisfying.

Oh, and we were finally able to talk her into taking a bottle! She hasn't had one since she was 6 wks. She really didn't like it then, and there was no need to force the issue, so we didn't. Saturday we kept offering (milk in freezer needed to be drank), trying different temps, positions,and nipples, and were finally able to persuade her--though she wasn't pleased. She had a very annoyed look the whole time, a real "WHY are you making me do this? I'll humor you this once, but really folks, this is ridiculous." It tickled the kids though, as they were able to take turns feeding her.

Oh ya! Halloween has happened since our last post! That was lots of fun, spent again with our friends in town who do up their whole yard and scare kids all night (Troy helps). Morgan made a truly beautiful Cinderella, and Garrett a dashing Indiana Jones. Kiera was a lion for about 5 minutes, but she was a very cute lion!

For you, Reina

It has been brought to my attention that the blog is seriously lacking in photos of my adorable offspring. Call it third child syndrome (though in the digital age it isn't due to a lack of pictures, but rather a lack of DOING anything with them...I'll make it up to her). In an attempt to rectify this oversight, I bring you these:

All dressed up for her 3 month pictures. I was trying to get a good smile out of her since we only got one during the actual shoot.

Canoodling on the couch

She does this all the time, anytime she's in a good mood and someone makes eye contact (she made some lady in an elevator's day today)--my sister calls it "the face." She smiles so hard she'll knock herself over once she can sit up. Since this was a month ago and she's had more practice, she does it even bigger. Her noses scrunches all up. It's awesome.

I took a bunch of pics of Morgan in the backyard when the hydrangeas were blooming and Garrett kept cutting them and bringing them to us. This obviously is not a photo of hydrangeas, but I liked it anyway.
Storytime! Ignore the ugly wall-Morgan discovered (via a teensy chip in the paint) that the wall had once been pink. She loves pink. And she can accomplish a lot of paint-peeling when her parents think she's napping. And no, she didn't eat it--it was all in a pile under her bed, actually.

First week of school and 3 months old!

Wow have we had a couple of weeks. Seriously. I mean whoa. It all started with the ceremonial preparations for School. Yup, school. Garrett goes to school now. And coincidentally, so does Morgan. And Kiera. And me. We spent the weekend prior acquiring school supplies, planning activities, and organizing the almighty Backpack. Garrett's backpack is very important to him.

On Sept the 14th (after two phone calls from Troy verifying that we were up and going), the kids and I had our first day of school. One of the rules for enrollment in the HOME Program is that the parents of elementary students remain on campus while the student are in class. We walk them to each class and are encouraged to check on them and help out during lessons. I was a little leery of this commitment, not knowing if the girls would take to spending 4 hours in the preschool room. Morgan was already having issues with not being old enough to attend classes herself, and I could just see myself having to drag her down the hall kicking and screaming. To my surprise, she was invited to join every class she showed an interest in. Even if she just wanted to sit and color. This program is so family oriented, it's awesome. At lunchtime the family room (where the preschool playroom is) fills with families eating lunch together. How many people in our society do that? Even on the weekends-how many families eat dinner together, let alone lunch? We all sit at big tables, Garrett gets to eat with his friends, I get to chat with their moms and dads, everybody oohs and goos over the baby, and Morgan just loves it all. I've lost count of the number of people who have offered me support with my curriculum planning, and I know that when Garrett starts getting invited to parties I'll be totally comfortable sending him because I'll really know these people-rather than dropping him off at a house with adults I've never met before. And they know him-they know his dietary needs, his likes and dislikes, etc. There's such a great sense of community while still being a school--today he had pictures taken for the yearbook, and next month we go on our first field trip.

Oh, and remember how excited I was about the potential that I would someday teach at the program? Well, that someday rolled around two days ago. Garrett's reading and math teacher has decided to go back to school, so she and the program coordinator cornered me last Monday about taking over the math class (I'd have preferred reading, but it was already taken). I hemmed and hawed, they mentioned I'd get paid, I said "SURE!" So now I teach kindergarten math. I started Monday. I arrived at ten to drop G off for reading, all ready to spend the next hour preparing myself and Kiera for class (yup, she stays with me) only to be met at the door by the PC with the news that his new reading teacher had a family emergency and would I mind stepping in? WHY NOT! Between me and another mom, we threw together a pretty decent lesson about "at" words (a-at-cat). I covered that class today as well, since she's still out. At least I had more than 5 minutes to prep for that one. Though Kiera did poop just as we were walking in to start class. I was able to get them started and then leave in them in the care of their PARENTS while I changed her--see the value of the whole family thing? Freakin' awesome.

Speaking of Kiera, she is now a rotund 3 month old. She's mid growth spurt at the moment, and eating like a fiend. She and I will be flying to CA tomorrow night to spend the weekend with my family and to meet my new nephew Jason, who was born on Kiera's 3 month birthday.

Over the last few weeks Kiera has learned how to play. She has figured out what her hands are for and is thrilled to be able to knock her hanging toys around. Today she tried to grab the logo of my shirt. She flows over with grins and dimples, and has charmed the socks off anyone who talks to her as she does not discriminate and will smile and coo at anyone who stops to talk to her. It's so interesting to watch her development as we have a family friend that is just a few weeks older than Kiera. We spent the afternoon with her (and her family) a few weeks ago, and I marveled at how mature she was. Much more so than Kiera-so interactive with her environment and capable with her hands. Now Kiera has reached the age B was then, and is suddenly showing all the same skills--a testament to how fast babies learn and grow! I was sure she wouldn't get that far that quickly! How amazing little humans are.

And now I must go as it is time to make dinner, which is Kiera's cue to cry. Never fail, no matter what time I do it, or how occupied she is at the time (in this case she was sound asleep) she knows. Her timing is impeccable.

Growing Up

Garrett is starting school. I keep saying it, hoping it will sound less like my first baby is becoming an independent person. It doesn't sound like that yet. He's starting school. He is so beyond excited-we all are. Well, not Morgan. She doesn't see why she can't go, to. We went and visited the facility today-all four classrooms and one hallway of it. It's run down, low budget, and feels wonderful. There is no negative energy-people bring their children there because they WANT to, and not because they have to.
Let me explain.
I am, among other things, a public school teacher. It has always been my plan to return to teaching when my children are all in school. As a public school teacher, I feel that it is VERY important to support public education-it is a system whose success is directly tied to its participants--no students, no money, no programs. I have always intended to send my children to public school.
I am, first and foremost, a mother. I cannot in good conscience drop off my child and drive away knowing that he will 1. be forced to work almost solely off of dittoed worksheets, 2. be working below his skill level and as a result not recieve the same level of attention as his classmates, 3. be crammed into a room with 30 other kids and one teacher, 4. be taught using methods and models that are inneffective and dumb and 5. not be allowed recess (which has been shown time and again to be necessary for focus and success in the classroom). Plus, I'd really miss him. And I'd have to wake everybody up early to drop him off. Yuck.
So this left Troy and I in a difficult position-we both had our reasons for wanting Garrett in public school. I had my reasons for wanting to homeschool. Troy saw no allure in homeschooling. Through much soul-searching and discussion, we both agreed that for Garrett to be successful and have the best chance of enjoying his education, homeschool was the best option. Then I found the HOME Program.
HOME is an alternative public school, technically. I see it more as a complimentary homeschool coop--all the parents participate (I can go to his classes with him if I want), different ages are grouped together (K-3, for example), and we get to pick any courses we want. He will attend HOME two days a week and take Math, Art, Science, and PE classes-and have a recess!! And music lessons! And Theater! This tiny little program, in its tiny little building, packs more curriculum choices than any other school in our district--with it's one hallway and chipped paint, it accomplishes more for its students than big schools full of fancy accessories. There's even a preschool play area for Morgan to use while he's in class, as the parents are ENCOURAGED to remain on campus while their student is in class. This way teachers don't have to deal with discipline issues or behavioral problems-the teacher is never taken away from teaching because the parents will be called to deal with it. Everyone helps. And as an added bonus for me, I can teach! I can contribute my volunteer time in the upper level Language classes-there's a creative writing class being offered while Garrett is in Science on Wed. that I can work in, and even have Kiera with me. Eventually I could even join the staff, but only have to work a couple days a week. I am soooo excited about this. I can scratch my teaching itch in an environment that is totally flexible, allows me to keep my children close, and allows me to continue my doula work. Seriously, aside from the fact that this is all going to keep us very busy, it's, like, the best scenario ever.
So what that means is that while we are homeschooling Garrett he will still get to "go to school." He'll go on field trips, participate in science fairs, have school performances, make friends, work with certified teachers (besides me), but still be primarily taught at home where we can cater his education to his particular needs and learning style. AWE-SOME. Plus his friend Mira is entering the same program. Who wouldn't be psyched about THAT? AND his classes won't start until the 14th, which gives me a little more time to get my act together before I have to become a mom whose kid goes to SCHOOL.

Planting KirMir

There are parts of being a parent I love. There are parts I absolutely hate. There are things that break my heart, things that I grow from, things that make me proud and happy and things that I wish I never had to deal with. There are things I wouldn't want to live without.
And then there are the things that are all of the above.
Sassy had six kittens. I wrote about them when they were born. Last week they turned one month old, and are all the chubby rolly-polly cuteness one would expect. The first one born, the first to open his eyes, the boldest and the tiniest, was KirMir.
Garrett developed an affinity for KirMir from day one. "I like him best because he's the tiniest and cutest. I think he needs me." He named him KirMir two weeks ago. It's a combination of Kiera (his sister) and Mira (a best friend), two people he loves. He never really wanted to play with the other kittens, and left the naming of them up to Morgan (so far we have Kip, Swimming Kitten, and Shane). KirMir had us worried in the beginning. As the runt he had to compete harder for food, and for a couple of days he wasn't doing very well-then he rallied, fought harder, held his own, and started growing. Through the last month we have dealt with a variety of kitty issues, from problems nursing (Sassy got sore and just didn't want to) to diarrhea to not wanting to use the litter box, but none of it affected KirMir.
This last weekend I was worried about Sassy and the kittens-she and at least one of the babies were having poop problems and I wasn't sure we should leave them alone for two days while we went to visit family. But by Friday they seemed to be doing better, and the little orange guy (still nameless) that had been worrying me seemed fine, so we went. Upon our return Sunday night we were greeted by a pile of fluffy-ness asleep on the living room rug, cute and cuddly and purring, and totally not supposed to be there. We had put up a baby gate to keep them in the bathroom and hallway which they had apparently had no problem climbing. Other than that, all was well and the kids were happy to play with their fuzzy friends Monday morning.
Monday afternoon I noticed the KirMir was crying-a lot. He was traveling around the house with the others (they move in a clump) but seemed to be having a tough time keeping up. I thought maybe he was hungry and tried to coax him into eating some moist food, which he refused. I watched him for a bit, but he seemed fine-though not as active as his brothers. A few hours later, I noticed he wasn't walking around at all, and when I picked him up I realized he was very skinny. He had completely lost his fat little belly, and I could see his hip bones. At this point I tracked down Sassy and held her in my lap so he could nurse without competition, which he did for quite awhile. After that he perked up, and I told Troy we needed to make sure to do that several more times before bed.
Not one hour later, I was watching Morgan play on the floor and to my absolute horror, I saw KirMir laying behind her, curled in an unnatural position and not moving. I immediately scooped him up and away, sure he was dead-until he started yowling at me. I breathed a sigh of relief, and sat down again with him in my lap. After awhile it was obvious that he was failing. His breathing was shallow, his respiratory rate depressed, and he didn't move except to cry when we shifted him. He barely filled my palm.
How do you deal with death? How does any parent know the right way to tell their child that their beloved creature is going to die? How can a mother stay calm, reassuring, soothing, when she herself is holding back tears for the heartbreak she is about to inflict on her son?
We have always been open with the kids about death. I feel very strongly that being honest is best; I have seen many children harmed by their guardians trying to hide death, or lie about it, in the name of protecting them. They grow up not knowing how to grieve and heal. Children are capable of handling difficult situations much better than adults sometimes--certainly better than they are given credit for--but that doesn't make it painless. For anyone. How were we to simultaneously break and mend our little boy's heart?
We called Garrett to us. We showed him KirMir, told him he was sick. Garrett watched him for a minute, and then asked very pragmatically if he was going to die. We said probably. We asked if he would like to hold him, and keep him warm. Garrett took him into his lap, wrapped in his shirt. He stroked him, kissed him, whispered things to him. When it was time for bed we took KirMir back and held him ourselves. I went to bed with Kiera, Troy continued to hold him. Unable to sleep, I got up to help Troy round up the babies and Sassy for the night. Had I not had the reality of a 2 month old limiting my sleep already, I would have stayed up holding him. Troy asked what to do if KirMir was gone in the morning. Back in bed, I still couldn't sleep.
Part of me wanted to be heroic and rescue him. The realistic side of me knew this baby would die during the night. There was nothing anyone could do-it had happened so quickly, and he was so tiny, even a vet wouldn't have tried to save him. He would have died on a cold metal table, alone. At least this way he was with his family, a brother curled on either side, trying to keep him warm.
At 4:30 AM, after feeding Kiera and putting her back down, I went to check on KirMir. He was alone on the bathroom floor, having been removed from the warm bed of his brothers by Sassy. His body was frigid and already stiff. She had taken him away from the others to protect them in case he had been ill. I tenderly scooped him up and placed him in the box we'd found for him. I set him in a safe place, and then went back to bed. What else could I do? Thinking of what the morning would bring, I cried.
Garrett always wakes up first. He was on the couch playing a game. I sat down with him, took his hand. "Did KirMir die?" "Yes." "Oh. I went in to see if he'd died, but he wasn't there." "I put him somewhere safe." "Can I see him?"
I got the box and we sat with it in our laps. I explained that KirMir would feel cold, and a little stiff. He wouldn't move, he wouldn't meow. Garrett opened the box, gazed at his friend; "He doesn't look dead." He petted him, felt that he was different. "Can I hold him?" He sat with KirMir in his lap. "My body is trying to make me cry." "Then cry." "I don't want to."
Periodically throughout the day he would ask me questions about KirMir, and I answered him as tenderly and honestly as I could. We made plans for burying him in the yard after Troy got home. He would frantically wipe his eyes as we talked, refusing to let his tears come.
Last night we said good-bye to KirMir, "planting" him at the foot of the Hawthorne tree. Garrett picked the spot. A place he would have liked to play with KirMir. He was excited to dig the hole, excited to carry the little box. Positions of honor, I think. Just before we began to fill the hole, I looked down at Garrett and saw his excitement had gone. His head was bent--a tear dripped from his nose. He was nearly overwhelmed, but fought hard to keep control. A minute later, he was ready to cover his friend.
Back in the house we began to clean up dinner. I peeked into the living room and saw Garrett sitting alone on the couch. I went to sit beside him and my brave little boy, so bent on grown up composure, broke down in sobs. Horrible, gut-wrenching sobs. He wrapped himself around me and together we poured out our hearts for KirMir and for him. Troy came to join us, then Morgan, and as a family we held one another as Garrett finally let himself cry.
As a parent, this was one of those full-spectrum experiences. I'll never wish it hadn't happened, because we all learned from it. I'll always hate it because we were all hurt by it. I'm glad we didn't try to hide it from the kids, because it is helping them understand how to handle loss before they lose something more important. I hate that my babies were in pain and I couldn't make it go away. It's good for them to see that Mommy and Daddy aren't all powerful. It's bad for them to see that Mommy and Daddy aren't all-powerful. In the long run it will have a positive effect on them as they grow up. Right now it's taken away a little piece of their innocence. It is life, and it is hard. But it is life, and mostly life is good.
Strange that something so tiny, with us for such a short time, could affect our lives so much. Thank you KirMir, for being our friend. Garrett wishes he could have seen you grow big. But while you were small, you made a big impact on the life of a little boy (and his mom).

Over the water and through the trees...

...to Grandmother's lake we go (or went, rather). Last weekend we packed up the car, again, and headed to Port Angeles (yes, the "big city" in Twilight) to spend to very busy days at Troys parents' lake cabin. Actually, the cabin is outside PA (Lake Sutherland) but only by about 20 minutes. We were leary about making the trek, as the drive to California last month kinda ruined Kiera's great tolerance for her carseat, but we were determined to make it. So we headed out early Sat morning for the Seattle ferry terminal. Normally we skip the ferry in favor of driving around Puget Sound--it's about the same amount of time and costs less as the ferry has gotten ridiculously expensive in recent years. This time we figured the less car time for Kiera the better and it's always a thrill for the kids (and me) anyway. It was well worth the added expense. We had a gorgeous view of Seattle and the sound, and we were able to enjoy breakfast on the go on board, which saved us some time getting out of the house. Kiera was able to nurse and relax in relative comfort, and the kids go to take turns going out on deck with Dad. It worked out so well in fact that Kiera slept the remaining 1.5 hrs to the cabin and arrived perky and refreshed (after a stop at Mom's Diner, that is).

The kids headed straight upstairs to the game closet when we arrived, and remained there for some time. The cabin is a wonderland for kids (and me). It's an adorable little A-frame, and just enough space added on through the years to not be cramped when the whole family tramps out for the summer get-together. The upstairs is kid-heaven with a loft, game closet (with the accumulated booty of years of Grandma buying new junk-Troy even found an activity book from his childood up there), and bedroom with it's own little deck. The cabin is right on the water, with a deck and its own dock complete with a small boat that is always the highlight of our weekends there for the kiddos-though with Grandma on board they could travel faster walking. She's a TAD cautious.

Morgan decided to tie up Uncle Jack, the "Pirate guy."

Troy and I spent a lot of time at the cabin during our college summers. It holds many fond memories of our fledlging relationship and we love watching our children enjoying it. It's especially cool for Troy as he was a boy there-though he's much less enclined to hop into the sometimes frigid water nowadays. For me it brings memories of my days spent at MY grandma's cabin-a place I won't get to share with the kids except through stories.

The lake is beautiful, small but very deep. I didn't think I would be able to talk Garrett into it, but with a lifejacket and some coaxing (and nearly drowning me trying to hold himself up), he did it! And declared (As he hung on for dear life), "this is really fun!" Morgan threw herself at me without a moment's hesitation (which I'd expected, she has no sense of fear), only to be smacked in the face with the wake of an overzealous passing watercraft. This scared the holy begeebies out of her and prompted her to attempt using me as a ladder to climb back OUT of the lake, but I was able to get her relaxed and convinced to stay. We three paddled around on an air mattress for quite awhile, until Mommy deemed young lips too purple to remain (and older legs to tired to continue-I don't have the stamina for swimming I once did. I miss Hawaii).

Kiera was a hit, of course, and very well-behaved. As she loves nothing more than being held (facing out), and there were an endless supply of arms to hold her, she was the picture of contentment without Mommy being completely worn out. I was even able to help make breakfast for everyone Sunday morning.

Kiera dozing with Aunt Peg out on the deck:

The drive home was not as easy as the drive out, in fact we only made it to Sequim (~1/2 hr) before we had to stop as Kiera hadn't stopped crying. We made the best of it by grabbing dinner, but due to prolonged bathroom issues with the kids we missed the ferry we'd been aiming for and were pretty late getting home. The upside of a late ferry though is that we had a phenominal view of Seattle all lit up. I love city skylines at night (though Seattle could never compete with Honolulu it's still pretty awesome). And while it was a fun weekend, we are very much looking forward to the coming one and staying close to home.

Dedicated daughter/grandaughter or glutton for punishment? A fine line.

Last week I lost my mind. Lost it. Gone. Rolled right out of my ear. Had to go find it. Apparently it was in California. Flying there was, unfortunately, cost-prohibitive (and would have eliminated all the looking-for-my-missing brain stops at rest areas and gas station bathrooms) and so we drove. All five of us. To California. 800 miles. With a newborn. To California.

It wasn't so bad.

Really.

I can see my own butt now. That's the benefit of spending so much time twisted around backwards, futilely attempting to hold a binky in the mouth of a screaming six week old who REALLY DOESN'T WANT a binky. I'm pretty sure I'll be stuck in that position for awhile.

No really, it wasn't so bad. Kiera had a hard time with the elevation changes going over the Siskiyous and Grants Pass, but when you consider she was born at sea level who can blame her? I'd love to say she fussed a little going up and then down, but sadly she couldn't sleep through the slightest rise. Sometimes she'd be able to settle down, sometimes we'd have to stop so she could nurse until her ears popped. Towards the end of each driving day she'd just be done being in her seat, and again-can't blame her. I was done, too. But all in all the journey wasn't to torturous, the other two did great ("Video games? In the CAR? ROCK ON!"-I'm paraphrasing Garrett here), and aside from the monster headache I developed on the way home it was fairly painless. Just long.

I should probably explain why we decided to do this crazy thing (aside from my absentee brain). For months I've been planning on a trip down to visit my family this summer, probably in August or early September when Kiera was a little more sturdy but still small enough to seem new to those who hadn't yet met her. Plans shifted when we found out that my Grandma, whom I haven't seen for two years, was going to be coming to spend two weeks with my mom. My aunt and uncle would also be there, but staying elsewhere (G-ma lives with them). My grandma's health is questionable, and not knowing if she'll make it to next summer when we want to go out there (to Arkansas), I just couldn't not take myself and the kids to see her-esp when we'd just added a new great-granddaughter to the mix.

This was the most complicated trek to Cali EVER. We couldn't decide exactly when or how we would go, how long we would stay, when we would leave, where we would stay, it was extraordinarily frustrating. In the end obviously we got it figured out (though it meant three days in the car for four days there), and are glad for it. It was a great trip, filled with loving people and much laughter. On the way down we were able to stay the night with Troy's Aunt and Uncle in OR which is always a treat, and a nice way to celebrate Troy's birthday (which had been the day before, but completely run over by trip prep). The kids love spending time at there house. It's very peaceful place to be, and we wished we could have stayed a bit longer.

Once in CA we stayed in a hotel in Stockton, a first for us but a nice change. It was good to have a place to stash our stuff as well as a place for little kiddies to crash minus the distraction of fun cousins and super-silly uncles. We did miss the quiet evening chats with my parents after putting the kids to bed, and didn't get nearly as much game playing done as we would have liked, but hey-we only had four days.

My grandma did great. We were all concerned that the whole thing would overwhelm her, but the opposite occurred--she had so much fun and was so distracted by the cheerful chaos of my family (when we're all together with spouses and kids, there are nearly 20 of us) that she didn't want to leave. We had the added bonus of introducing Kiera to my aunt and uncle, as well as my cousin and his family-including a son I hadn't met. The highlight of the trip was the ending day family outing to Bass Pros-and watching Troy marvel at how that can be considered a fun family outing. Hey-they have games, water features, a fudge shop, taxidermy galore, and it's free! Can't beat that! He refused to buy me the pink rifle and the gun safe with the painting of John Wayne on it, though. Broke my lil' heart. I'm still holding out for the pink fishing pole.

Above we see the three "babies," as we affectionately refer to the now 3 yr olds (Connor in yellow, my sister's; Chloe behind him, my brother Tony's; and Morgan) that were all born within 6 months.

Grandma meeting Kiera-she loves holding babies but throws them back the second they start to fuss. She says she's done her time.
Four generations of Sidell Women. Believe it or not, throw a grey wig on me and I look JUST like my grandma. I'm not kidding. I've done it. It's a little depressing. She's 84. Don't get me wrong, she's adorable-but I don't look like her at 30-I look like her now. At 84.

In the end, we had a great time. And the first night away Kiera started sleeping 8 hr stretches (which she continued to do until the last couple nights when she's been miserable with a cold), which it turns out was key to my finding my mind. It was under the couch all the time.