A walk in the park

I thought I'd show you our favorite park in the whole world. It is Bear Creek Park in Keller and it is a wonderful way to spend a sunny afternoon.


This is a picture of one of the two smaller play structures. Rachel is climbing on a rock wall. Michael is patiently waiting his turn. And a paranoid little girl is sitting at the top of the slide wondering why the deranged lady is taking pictures of her.


This a shot of the largest play structure, with 3 slides, rock walls, climb-over do-hickeys and several thing-a-mabobs. This is the most loved play set of all!


Unfortunately, to my toddler, sand boxes kick all play structure's butts. Rachel lives for this sand box. And if you have witnessed children in sand boxes, you know things can get pretty dicey. There is always some form of shovel stealing and sand castle smashing going on (Rachel doesn't usually steal shovels, thankfully, but she is a notorious castle smasher and it gets her into trouble). Oh, but it is fun to watch the ever-protective Daddy with her. He usually doesn't make it out of the sand box without threatening some kid to within an inch of his life for trying to steal Rachel's sand toys. Go Daddy!


I couldn't pass up this shot up of my sweet, happy babies. Julia, on the right, couldn't be more relaxed. You'd think she was in a Lazy Boy recliner. And Annelise is doing her favorite funny face, which always includes little pumping fists. It's quite a show for an 8 month old. Julia obviously finds the whole thing ridiculous.

And since we're talking babies, did I tell you that in just a few days time, Julia has cut her two bottom teeth, Annelise started pulling to a stand in her crib (last night!) and she also says "Mama" now. Oh, melt my baby lovin' heart! She'll walk in the walker straight to the kitchen (where I am always preparing one meal or another) and pull on my pants saying, "Mama". Honestly, it's all I can stand.



I have to throw in this picture in as well. These critters, who showed up at the park, are 8 month old (just like the twins) Lop bunnies on leashes! They were so sweet and beautiful. Every little girl at the playground was on them like white on rice (except for Rachel, who couldn't be bothered with them since her beloved sand pit was calling). Oh were they ever soft!

So there you have it...babies, sunshine and bunnies. What more could a mommy want?





Would you like some butter with those rolls?

This is Julia and her beautiful rolls. I'm just glad their hers and not mine. The End.

Chickens and bunnies and baby goats, oh my!

Today Rachel and I went to a local farm to buy some fresh eggs. It was such a terrific little trip. The highlight for me was when we got to hold 2 day old baby goats!!! I held Bobby, a little boy, and Rachel held Daisy, a little girl. One of them tried to suckle on Rachel's finger (I guess they don't have any teeth yet because I jumped and pulled her hand back, but it hadn’t hurt her, she was all smiles). They were so tiny and adorable! Honestly, it's a good thing I don't have land or I would probably now own a baby goat. They keep all the girls, for milking, but they give the boys away to good homes. Bobby would have fit in real nicely here, I mean, what’s one more suckling creature in my life. That is, of course, until he grew up into a stubborn, adult man goat. We don’t need any more of those! Really, though, in 38 years of life I have never held a brand new baby goat, and it was pretty cool.

And we met Buttons the bunny, who was super friendly, but in a hutch, so we couldn’t hold her. And Scout the "mama" dog of the farm (she was part Great Pyrenees and part something else also big and white). We also met the chickens that made our eggs. They too came running over to greet us (seriously friendly farm animals!) and talked to Rachel for a while.
Honestly, I can never get enough of chickens talking. It's one of the funniest sounds God ever created, other than guinea pigs and finches.

And lastly, the horses, about 8 of them, though we didn't meet them since they were out in their pasture, but they were the first animals we saw driving in. Rachel announced as we parked in front of their fence that they were stuck and we needed to open the gate. She marched the fence line looking for it since she was determined that she was going to ride them. That's my girl!! But Mom steered her to the tiny farm store and wooed her with a little bag of peanuts, which she joyfully ate as we met all the animals. Even Scout got some peanuts (and a little of Scout's saliva made it's way into Rachel's little bag - it was a stretching day for Mom to let her keep eating them!).

At the end, as we were leaving, an older, burly gentleman arrived and was unloading something on the porch of the tiny store. He had white hair and a white beard and mustache, and a big, round belly. Rachel, standing beside me munching her peanuts while I paid for the eggs, stood staring at him like a deer in headlights. Then she said to me very softly, “Mama, look, it’s Santa”. How sweet! As we were trying to walk out of the store, we came face to face with him on the threshold and Rachel just stopped. She wouldn’t walk out but just stood there staring. The man, waiting for us to come out so that he could walk in said, “Well come on little girl, it’s okay, I AM Santa Claus after all”. We all laughed, obviously this isn’t the first child to make the observation. All the way to the car she kept looking back at him, “Mommy, what’s Santa doing? Is he getting in that truck? Where’s Santa going?”. And all the way home the conversation was, “What did Santa say to Rachel?”. No talk about the goats or chickens or bunny or dog, just, “What did Santa say to Rachel?”. And I had to keep repeating, “Well come on little girl, it’s okay, I AM Santa Claus”. So I learned two things today. 1) In the eyes of a toddler, Santa trumps farm animals, and 2) as a mother, seeing the world through the eyes of your toddler is about as great as it gets. And baby goats don’t hurt either.

Rolling D's & T's

Rachel is doing this funny thing lately, she rolls her d's and t's. It is really odd and I can't figure out where she got if from. I have never heard anyone roll their d's or t's. R's, yes, but that's it. Michael says she's going to be a linguist. I am not sure why he thinks this, maybe rolling your d's and t's give you some competitive edge in becoming a linguist? And while I'm on the subject, is this a field where you need a competitive edge? I'll have to ask my friend, Holly, she's a linguist, or at least was in a past life. She was a Russian linguist for the US Army. And she's the smartest woman that has ever lived on the face of the Earth. Though she would disagree (she is also the most humble woman who has ever lived on the face of the Earth). So I'll just say that she's the smartest woman that I have ever known that has lived on the face of the Earth. She may even be the smartest person, but I'm not sure as her husband is the smartest man that I have ever known. And that's not to say that he's smarter than she is, I just don't know. But I'm curious now, maybe I'll challenge them to have some kind of mental arm wrestling match so that we can find out.

Okay, so back to my little linguist, since this is really about her. First, only the d's or t's in the middle of the word roll. For example, she says "Daddddy" or "kittttty", though this visual does it no justice. The sound is really quite lovely, not choppy at all like when I try to mimic her. It is like listening to a Spaniard speak in the proper Castilian dialect, it flows beautifully. And she talks like this all day long. But the funny thing is, if I TRY to get her to do it, as in, "Hey, listen to this...Rachel, say kitty", she'll then say, "kitty", plain Jane version. "Rachel, say Daddy". "Daddy". No lovely flowing rolls. It's Murphy's Law. I am convinced that old Murphy was a father. He must have been because Murphy's Law never applies so well as during parenthood. In fact, Murphy's Law is to parenthood as french fries are to hamburgers. They just go together.

So there you have it. Rolling d's and t's, but only when nobody cares if they roll. Courtesy of our frustrating, talented, beautiful, witty pint-sized linguist. And with that, I'll say, "Goodddddnight".

Toddler Trouble (and no, not mine, for a change)...

So we went to the park yesterday, which is nothing out of the ordinary for us, especially when it is 76 degrees and the sky is bright, screaming blue in the MIDDLE OF JANUARY. You just have to take your babies to the park, it is required by law.

Anyhow, there we were having a grand ole time, babies seated joyfully in their stroller, toddler in the sandbox, when along comes a nice looking family who wanted to comment on the twins. This, too, is nothing new. We learned very quickly, if you don't want to talk to people, don't go out with twins. Much like toting around a brand new puppy, they are people magnets, and you will get stopped.

Okay, so this family starts talking to us and cooing at the babies, and life is as it should be, until...(insert sound of record player needle scratching across an LP), their toddler, with at least a half a cup of snot hanging like glue under her nose, begins touching the toys hanging in our stroller. Surely the parents saw my jaw drop? Surely they noticed the immediate horror in my face? And surely they KNEW that their lovely child who was carrying some infectious disease was rubbing her little virus covered hands ALL OVER my innocent babies stroller?! NO???? What is this about? I have seen it time and time again and I simply can't figure it out. You know that these people must get it. Right? I mean, I'd be willing to bet that just a few months ago when this adorable toddler was an infant, these were the very same people carrying around a mini bottle of disinfectant attached to their key chain which they squirted on everything their precious little bundle of joy came into contact with. And yet, here they are watching this atrocity unfold while they engage me in meaningless conversation.

Oh, but then, in a sudden glimmer of hope, the father says (repeat in your whiniest voice), "Poopsie, princess, love muffin (or whatever her name was) please don't touch the babies toys". He then made a pathetic attempt to remove her hands. Ofcourse, the precious plague-carrying toddler, in utter defiance, yanks her hands away from her father and continues groping the toys, the stroller straps (yes the very straps that the babies chew on happily whenever they ride in the stroller), the seat cushion, the bars, EVERY STINKIN' INCH of the stroller with her germy little paws. I thought that this time they would surely hear my jaw as it hit the floor! But no, the father backed off in a vivid display of his utter spinelessness. I was even more disgusted now than before. Where do these people come from? SHE'S NOT EVEN TWO, for pete's sake! I can't tell you how badly I wanted to tell this man to turn his pants around to the front and take control of this situation, for the love of God. But I didn't. I actually said (if you can believe this), "Oh, it's okay". I think I even shocked myself when the words came out of my mouth. It's okay? It's okay?!! It's not okay! None of this is okay! But, I think at that point I knew that the stroller would have to be dismantled and scrubbed from top to bottom, so it didn't really matter anyway. The damage was done and I was going to have to add this pain in the rear job to my already ridiculously full life.

And to add to the chaos, Combi didn't think to make the stroller with removable straps so that I could just pull them off and throw them in the washing machine. I had to disinfect it all in my kitchen, with bowls of water and cleaner (no fun). So here I am, writing this while my now sparkling clean stroller sits drying in front of me. All the little disease germs are dead and my babies are safe again, until the next park dwelling typhoid toddler comes along...