We spent most of August hurriedly marking family outings off our summer to-do list.
First stop was Les Bois Park to watch some horse racing. Henry had wanted to visit the park last summer but we never found the time. It cost 0 bucks for us to enter the park and we left with 20 of the 40 dollars we took for snacks and bets. I'd call the two hours we spent watching the horses a superfecta win!
A week to the day following our visit to the track, we rode our bikes to the baseball field and took in a Hawks game. The Hawks won and the boys scored some miniature ball caps as souvenirs. It was one homerun of an evening!
A few days later, we mounted our bikes again and rode all the way to town to join the Tour de Fat bike parade. The boys dressed up as cowboys. Well, kinda. They looked more like hicks with their cutoff jean shorts and boy-tanks (remember how there were no "nice shirts" for the first day of school?) but I didn't want them to overheat in regular cowboy clothes - it gets hot in August. They were also sporting penciled in mustaches and cap guns courtesy of the Best Mom Ever!
We also spent a Saturday night at the Western Idaho Fair but I've probably left you with enough photos for one post.
First stop was Les Bois Park to watch some horse racing. Henry had wanted to visit the park last summer but we never found the time. It cost 0 bucks for us to enter the park and we left with 20 of the 40 dollars we took for snacks and bets. I'd call the two hours we spent watching the horses a superfecta win!
A week to the day following our visit to the track, we rode our bikes to the baseball field and took in a Hawks game. The Hawks won and the boys scored some miniature ball caps as souvenirs. It was one homerun of an evening!
A few days later, we mounted our bikes again and rode all the way to town to join the Tour de Fat bike parade. The boys dressed up as cowboys. Well, kinda. They looked more like hicks with their cutoff jean shorts and boy-tanks (remember how there were no "nice shirts" for the first day of school?) but I didn't want them to overheat in regular cowboy clothes - it gets hot in August. They were also sporting penciled in mustaches and cap guns courtesy of the Best Mom Ever!
We also spent a Saturday night at the Western Idaho Fair but I've probably left you with enough photos for one post.
We went camping with the boys' school over the weekend. The trip was organized by a parent and close to 40 families supposedly showed up. And it was a blast. Stephen couldn't get over the fact that we were camping as a school.
For reals. It was like the idea of a school sponsored camping trip for families was the most fantastic things that had ever (EVER) happened to him. I quickly grew tired of him saying, "Oh my God! We're camping with the school! How many other schools do you think are camping right now? None!" Of course he was wrong. I am sure lots of other schools were camping on Saturday. Maybe even one in Idaho.
I didn't get the opportunity to camp once last year and it was so nice to be out in the woods, so to speak. Stephen and I are hoping to squeeze in a few family camping trips this summer and we might have to go back to this spot because the boys had the most fun they've ever had on a camping trip. I am not sure whether it was playing with friends for almost 24 hours straight or the Dust Bowl.
See the haze between the trees - that's the Dust Bowl. Or the Hell Hill, or the Dirt Gulch That All the Children Slid Down for Hours on End When They Weren't Having Pine Cone Wars. And they came back looking like this:
The pictures don't really convey just how filthy they really were. They were disgusting filthy. Maybe the dirtiest they've ever (EVER) been! We heard from parents who'd been there before that one year a rain storm turned the Dust Bowl into a Mud Bowl. Those parents ended up just throwing their children's clothes away. What fun that would have been!
Besides the Dust Bowl there was some communal meat cooking and a potluck. I heart potlucks. I always fill up on salads and this this potluck was no exception! Stephen opted for some soft spreadable cheese. I think he was trying to spite me or prove some ridiculous point. The last time he bought soft cheese I was disappointed in his choice. I had wanted something else and so I was mean to him about his soft cheese. But it's okay. He likes it when I am mean to him. Plus, he gets confused when I am kind.
After dinner Stephen looked for opportunities to show off his short shorts. We also had a campfire. I brought leftover Peeps and offered them to all the children but my own - I don't want them eating that crap!
And that was that. The boys went back to the Dust Bowl. Stephen and I drank wine well into the night with new friends. We had blueberries and pancakes in the morning, loaded up the car and headed home. A weekend well spent as the first and last people ever (EVER) to camp as a school.
For reals. It was like the idea of a school sponsored camping trip for families was the most fantastic things that had ever (EVER) happened to him. I quickly grew tired of him saying, "Oh my God! We're camping with the school! How many other schools do you think are camping right now? None!" Of course he was wrong. I am sure lots of other schools were camping on Saturday. Maybe even one in Idaho.
I didn't get the opportunity to camp once last year and it was so nice to be out in the woods, so to speak. Stephen and I are hoping to squeeze in a few family camping trips this summer and we might have to go back to this spot because the boys had the most fun they've ever had on a camping trip. I am not sure whether it was playing with friends for almost 24 hours straight or the Dust Bowl.
See the haze between the trees - that's the Dust Bowl. Or the Hell Hill, or the Dirt Gulch That All the Children Slid Down for Hours on End When They Weren't Having Pine Cone Wars. And they came back looking like this:
The pictures don't really convey just how filthy they really were. They were disgusting filthy. Maybe the dirtiest they've ever (EVER) been! We heard from parents who'd been there before that one year a rain storm turned the Dust Bowl into a Mud Bowl. Those parents ended up just throwing their children's clothes away. What fun that would have been!
Besides the Dust Bowl there was some communal meat cooking and a potluck. I heart potlucks. I always fill up on salads and this this potluck was no exception! Stephen opted for some soft spreadable cheese. I think he was trying to spite me or prove some ridiculous point. The last time he bought soft cheese I was disappointed in his choice. I had wanted something else and so I was mean to him about his soft cheese. But it's okay. He likes it when I am mean to him. Plus, he gets confused when I am kind.
After dinner Stephen looked for opportunities to show off his short shorts. We also had a campfire. I brought leftover Peeps and offered them to all the children but my own - I don't want them eating that crap!
And that was that. The boys went back to the Dust Bowl. Stephen and I drank wine well into the night with new friends. We had blueberries and pancakes in the morning, loaded up the car and headed home. A weekend well spent as the first and last people ever (EVER) to camp as a school.
For Christmas - yes, I am so far behind in my storytelling that we are still talking about Christmas - Stephen received a 50 dollar gift card to D and B Supply. Not that this is relevant to the story but Stephen loves D and B. He tries to buy everything that he possibly can from D and B. He goes to D and B at least once a week. The clerks there know the names of our children, if that tells you anything. So a 50 dollar gift card to D and B for Stephen is money well spent.
Stephen spent about 2 days considering what he might purchase with his 50 dollar gift card. A new rake handle. An ax. Some irrigating boots. Seeds for the garden. Work gloves. Bacon jerky. No - not bacon jerky but the sky was the limit with 50 dollars to spend. He could have bought so many things. So many things to beautify our yard or maintain our house or feed our bellies come summer. But he didn't.
Nope. Instead he bought the boys a BB gun. You read that right. A gun. He bought my babies a gun! Not that I should actually pretend to care. I am so over all of that. And by all of that I mean any false hope that I would raise children who were uninterested in guns or violence or war or battle or blood or combat or whatever else little boys are drawn to. And also, by children I really mean boys or sons because obviously I don't have daughters.
I believe that my next statement comes from an educated place in both an academic and real world sense - boys and girls are innately different and many (but not all) boys are drawn to physical interaction and destruction. At least in my opinion as a women's studies major and the mother of two sons. Of course, I've been wrong before.
Getting back to BB gun. It's a Daisy Red Rider. The Christmas Story kind, which was fitting for a Christmas gift. The boys love it. Or they did love it. The novelty has already worn off. But that's okay with me because their Free Range father let's them shoot the gun without parental assistance. They've had a gun safety lesson. They have protective eye wear. They have some empty beer cans and some distance guidelines. What more do they need?
I'll tell you what they don't need - an overprotective mother up in their business. It's true. As hard as it is trust Stephen's ability to teach them gun safety and as hard as it is to let my children enjoy a small amount of freedom, I know that it's the right decision.
I am sure that many of you - because many of you are reading my blog, right? - will disagree. How could I possible let two seven-year olds handle a gun without immediate adult supervision? How could I let two seven-year olds handle a gun in the first place? What sort of irresponsible, negligent mother am I?
First, let me remind you that it's just a BB gun. Second, I trust Stephen to instill proper gun safety. Third, I recognize the value in trusting the decisions my children make. Fourth, I am from Idaho. Fifth, not only am I from Idaho but I am just hella cool - ask anyone who knows me. Sixth, the the Zombie Apocalypse is coming. That shit is for real - how many cans of Manwich do you have in your cellar?
Stephen spent about 2 days considering what he might purchase with his 50 dollar gift card. A new rake handle. An ax. Some irrigating boots. Seeds for the garden. Work gloves. Bacon jerky. No - not bacon jerky but the sky was the limit with 50 dollars to spend. He could have bought so many things. So many things to beautify our yard or maintain our house or feed our bellies come summer. But he didn't.
Nope. Instead he bought the boys a BB gun. You read that right. A gun. He bought my babies a gun! Not that I should actually pretend to care. I am so over all of that. And by all of that I mean any false hope that I would raise children who were uninterested in guns or violence or war or battle or blood or combat or whatever else little boys are drawn to. And also, by children I really mean boys or sons because obviously I don't have daughters.
I believe that my next statement comes from an educated place in both an academic and real world sense - boys and girls are innately different and many (but not all) boys are drawn to physical interaction and destruction. At least in my opinion as a women's studies major and the mother of two sons. Of course, I've been wrong before.
Getting back to BB gun. It's a Daisy Red Rider. The Christmas Story kind, which was fitting for a Christmas gift. The boys love it. Or they did love it. The novelty has already worn off. But that's okay with me because their Free Range father let's them shoot the gun without parental assistance. They've had a gun safety lesson. They have protective eye wear. They have some empty beer cans and some distance guidelines. What more do they need?
I'll tell you what they don't need - an overprotective mother up in their business. It's true. As hard as it is trust Stephen's ability to teach them gun safety and as hard as it is to let my children enjoy a small amount of freedom, I know that it's the right decision.
I am sure that many of you - because many of you are reading my blog, right? - will disagree. How could I possible let two seven-year olds handle a gun without immediate adult supervision? How could I let two seven-year olds handle a gun in the first place? What sort of irresponsible, negligent mother am I?
First, let me remind you that it's just a BB gun. Second, I trust Stephen to instill proper gun safety. Third, I recognize the value in trusting the decisions my children make. Fourth, I am from Idaho. Fifth, not only am I from Idaho but I am just hella cool - ask anyone who knows me. Sixth, the the Zombie Apocalypse is coming. That shit is for real - how many cans of Manwich do you have in your cellar?
Over the Christmas break Henry and Wyatt attended theater camp for a second time - thanks Grandpa and Grandma! Theater camp is in Ketchum and starts the day after Christmas. So as I mentioned at my Christmas recap post, we took off for Ketchum on the 25th.
Last year Stephen and I joined the boys in Ketchum just in time for the recital and then we stayed through the new year. But this year, we all went up and spent a relaxing week in the condo. Anyway, back to theater camp!
I don't actually have much to say about theater camp other than I like sending my kids. It's good for them to get up on stage and interact with new kids. In the photos Henry looks less than thrilled to be there but he was sick all week and we still made him go to camp everyday. Of course he looks a little apathetic - we're so cruel.
The other thing I have to say about theater camp is that it brings me to tears. Happy tears, of course. I cried during the entire performance, regardless of whether my own children were on stage. Something about children singing and dancing and enjoying the simplicity of their youth hits me every time I attend any sort of childrens' activity. I'm weird like that.
Stephen is not weird like that but his head is big and mine is not.
Someone needs to teach those boys to dance! As a former dancer I seem to have failed them as a mother. You have to look closely for Wyatt in the first video. For whatever reason he was positioned in the back of the group, next to the Time Machine sign. But you can definitely see him in the second video, and after watching Henry dance in the first video and Wyatt in the second, you might agree with me that an immediate dance lesson intervention is absolutely necessary!
Aren't they just so cute! Wyatt had a speaking part and I just about missed taking a photo of his big debut. He had two lines:
Has anyone seen Miss Franklin? She was just here.
Oh! You might benefit from knowing the plot of the production. A bunch of children stop by a weird old professor's home and travel back in time to the 60s where they receive a lesson in music history. Good stuff.
I have one more thing to say about theater camp. It's organized and ran by good people. People we like and trust. People who know our mothers. People who've acted with Jack. I feel good about sending my babies there for the day. I guess I just add that because I like reminding myself of good things and good people. I like goodness. And now I'll stop because I am nearing the overly sentimental and positive outlook crap that drives me crazy in other blogs I sometimes (okay, all the time!) frequent.
And just because I can't help myself, here is one more video of my kids that you probably don't want to bother watching! But if you do, enjoy.
Last year Stephen and I joined the boys in Ketchum just in time for the recital and then we stayed through the new year. But this year, we all went up and spent a relaxing week in the condo. Anyway, back to theater camp!
I don't actually have much to say about theater camp other than I like sending my kids. It's good for them to get up on stage and interact with new kids. In the photos Henry looks less than thrilled to be there but he was sick all week and we still made him go to camp everyday. Of course he looks a little apathetic - we're so cruel.
The other thing I have to say about theater camp is that it brings me to tears. Happy tears, of course. I cried during the entire performance, regardless of whether my own children were on stage. Something about children singing and dancing and enjoying the simplicity of their youth hits me every time I attend any sort of childrens' activity. I'm weird like that.
Stephen is not weird like that but his head is big and mine is not.
Someone needs to teach those boys to dance! As a former dancer I seem to have failed them as a mother. You have to look closely for Wyatt in the first video. For whatever reason he was positioned in the back of the group, next to the Time Machine sign. But you can definitely see him in the second video, and after watching Henry dance in the first video and Wyatt in the second, you might agree with me that an immediate dance lesson intervention is absolutely necessary!
Aren't they just so cute! Wyatt had a speaking part and I just about missed taking a photo of his big debut. He had two lines:
Has anyone seen Miss Franklin? She was just here.
and
Aretha's on next? What will we do!Oh! You might benefit from knowing the plot of the production. A bunch of children stop by a weird old professor's home and travel back in time to the 60s where they receive a lesson in music history. Good stuff.
I have one more thing to say about theater camp. It's organized and ran by good people. People we like and trust. People who know our mothers. People who've acted with Jack. I feel good about sending my babies there for the day. I guess I just add that because I like reminding myself of good things and good people. I like goodness. And now I'll stop because I am nearing the overly sentimental and positive outlook crap that drives me crazy in other blogs I sometimes (okay, all the time!) frequent.
And just because I can't help myself, here is one more video of my kids that you probably don't want to bother watching! But if you do, enjoy.
