Hair. Cut.

Last night we cut the curls. They had become so unmanageable that most days I just felt defeated when I looked at his mop. They were cute and red and completely lovable, but man oh' man without the help of a ponytail//pigtails//braids//or bows they became unruly by 6PM. And let's face it, John would be beside himself if Brecken wore pigtails. Seriously though, how do I go about managing a boy fro? Naturally I let his freak flag fly, but by the end of everyday it looked as though he was more hair than boy. I blame my own genetics for the string of unfortunate events he will endure over the years with naturally curly hair.

So I declared that I'd had enough. I would not be defeated by curly hair so I commissioned John on the task taming the mane. He set up shop on the bathroom floor and clipped away. Occasionally I chimed in with opinions of his handiwork which he quickly quipped were not warranted nor needed (typical man. no?) Then as if he saw himself as Michelangelo finishing the last brush strokes on the Sistine Chapel he lifted his masterpiece to the mirror to admire his work.  The immediate reaction of tears were followed by choked up words of missing hair and a now round head. I mustered up as much strength as possible to not cry as well--seeing that my own tears would only exasperate his already fickle emotions. 

For a brief moment I questioned my own judgement if cutting his hair really was really that necessary. Could I not find someway to manage the curls? How about more gel? A hat or two may help? What if I just trimmed the ends? My mind raced over what should have happened and if I was over exaggerating his need for a hair cut. Then at that exact moment his bright blue eyes full of residual tears appeared from underneath the towel and I realized how long I had gone without seeing those beautiful blue beauties. I knew then the choice to cut was not only warranted but by golly--needed! It should be a crime to hide those gems if I do say so myself.

Besides, after a few hugs and an episode of Thomas the Train all was well in his world again. Now, if it was only that easy to change my mood around on my bad days...

P.S. his cute raglan pullover can be found at one of our favorite shops

Road. trip.

Nothing says road trip like nineteen hours in a car// looping through three states// stopping for three meals// passing through two national parks// filling up for gas four times// skirting through one Indian Reservation//  feeding the baby in record speed five times// and indulging in an endless supply of Goldfish and Blues Clues all in a span of three days with a toddler+baby.

This weekend was one for the books if I do say so myself. The kids powered through the drive like champs, while John and I managed to go an entire drive (all 19 hours and counting) without so much as a bickering remark. I give credit to the awe-inspiring landscape on our drive. Have you ever been to Jackson Hole? In the winter? Or, Grand Teton National Park? Or, a little town in Wyoming call Dubois? 

Pictures wouldn't do justice, my friends.

Our little minds were blown away by the natural beauty and the complete transformation from one place to the next. Jackson, with it's souring peaks and picturesque snow-blanketed pine trees, to the 10,000 ft elevation of the Grand Tetons with it's natural ruggedness was a site that all should experience.  And just like that we were down in the rolling red rock of Wyoming's plains that seemed to resemble the landscape of Central Utah. 

Picture after picture was taken to try to capture the beauty set before us, but as with most things that words can't quite explain, pictures couldn't fully portray the immense beauty and grandeur. If by happen stance you're ever in Western to Montana and headed to Wyoming, take a little detour

{Ashton//Driggs//Jackson Hole//Grand Teton National Park//Dubois} I promise you won't be disappointed.

And as many of our friend's suggested make sure to hit up Merry Piglets in Jackson for amazing Mexican Food. On our way home we also stopped to eat at our all time/in the world of time/most favorite restaurant ever-- the Rib n' Chop House in Livingston, MT.  Now, I am craving a steak. at eight in the a.m. Gah!

Thanks for stopping by!

Bath time.

Each night after John and the kids have gone to bed I get a half-an-hour or so to myself. Most times I can be found catching up on emails, writing blog posts, or folding laundry. no folded pile  is safe from destruction when Brecken is awake.  Tonight was no different then any other night, I sprawled out on the couch purging my SD cards of pictures. Exciting, I know. You should see what type of shenanigans I muster up on a Friday night ;)

Anyway, I found these pictures from a few weeks ago when the kids were behaving long enough for me a snap a few pictures. You wouldn't know it, but bath time in our house is a little crazy--fighting over toys in the tub, splashing fights, squirting water at the mirror, pushing, whining, yahda-yahda. Not to mention the meltdown that usually ensues when it is time to get out of the tub. It's usually one of those experiences that requires a good dose of caffeine to make it through it safely. 

These pictures showed me something different. The little moments of happiness, the squishy cheeks, the and bubbly blue eyes of my babes. Isn't awesome how some of the most special moments are the most ordinary ones? 

Thanks for stopping by. We're off to Wyoming tomorrow, see you on the flip side (that means Monday...)

hey 28.

To be honest, this birthday has been kind of "meh." Leading up to it I joked with John that my late twenties have been painful reminders of lost youthfulness. Just last week I found a slew of gray hairs. So many in fact that I quickly knew I had lost the battle in trying to pull them out. People, this dark hair and skin doesn't do light. And each morning a new wrinkle appears on a once flawless area of my face. My Grandma jokes that the gray hairs and wrinkles are just signs of wisdom. But at 28 I still fall into that awkward void where I am not young enough to be completely naive and not old enough to be handing out advice like candy.

But in all seriousness, "Where did my twenties go?" At 20 I was in Russia//21 I began dating John//22 I graduated, married and started school again//23 my nose was crammed in books the entire year//24 I graduated with new house and baby in tow//25 settled into the life of a stay at home mom//26 had an ectopic pregnancy//27 had a baby girl, and then "WHAM!" like a kick to the gut 28 jumped out of nowhere. 

Looking back at year 27 there were more ups and downs than years past. And honestly our relationship took the biggest hit. As the age old cliche goes,"opposites attract" well, we ain't no opposites in this house. We go together like salt n' pepper, ying and yang, bacon n' breakfast--and these similarities have created their own set of problems. Between the stubbornness and need to always be right we've learned that forgiveness requires forgetting and loving one another requires teamwork. And if I've learned anything this year it's that all any of us are trying to do is just make the best out of an imperfect world. 

Chalk this up to another year in the books my friends. Let's party, 28.

eight months

Baby Girl,

I know I may sound like broken record when I say this but I can't get enough of you. This month, actually, this week has been huge. Nothing world changing or noteworthy to others, but big for us and even more momentous for you! You nailed this so-called crawling thing like no one's business and then you decided to hold an extra party for yourself and have a teeny-tiny tooth make an appearance. And if that wasn't enough you took a bath, all by yourself--no sling, no rubber floaties, just you! Your brother couldn't handle you having all the fun so he jumped in too, that's when the real fun began. As a grand finale because every baby milestone must have a grand finale you let your Dad and I go on a date. alone. It may have only been for an hour, but those 60 minutes/3600 seconds (do i sound excited?) involved a grown-up conversation, hand holding, eating dinner without sharing, and a whole side of the booth to my lonesome. (Thanks Joel and Kam!). Then two days ago, as serendipitous icing on the cake, your hair finally seemed long enough for me to clip in a bow because we all know how long I've been counting down the days for dainty bows and pigtails.

Month Nine, how will you ever compete with the show that Month Eight put on? If you happen to whip up a good ole' fashion walking routine and drinking for a sippy cup you may have a chance.

I love you small fry. 

Mom