Boo!

So, here we go again. Halloween. Blech. You know this is not my favorite holiday, right?

See, I'm trying.

About a month ago, I started asking Tagg what he wants to be for Halloween. "I want to be Tagg." "I'm just a boy." "NO COSTUME!!!" This goes on for weeks and then one day, the answer is "I want to be a funny bat." Woo-hoo! An actual costume! But wait. What the hell is a funny bat? I look it up online and there's nothing. Apparently he is the first kid in history to request a funny bat costume. 

I can't convince Tagg that any of the Batman costumes are "funny bats" so I have no idea what to do. Maybe he'll go back to just wanting to be Tagg. He did seem mildly interested in a skeleton costume that showed up on the search so I'm thinking that might, just might be a back-up plan. 

And then one day, he walks in and says, "Mom, I want to be a scuba diver." What?! Great, but what?! Where did THAT come from? So I Google it. FYI there is no such thing. You can either buy real scuba gear for a bazillion dollars or you can try to fashion one from household-type items in a real artsy-craftsy, do-it-yourself moment. That's the route we took.

Looks so cute right? And easy.
Not so much.

I sent my dad on a Home Depot, craft-store treasure hunt for the gear while I scoured the city's sporting good stores and retail outlets for a cheap-ish diving mask and flippers. (Impossible to find, apparently, once fall sets in). Then we had my mom distract the kids with frosting and decorating Halloween cookies while me and dad spent two hours making air cartridges and the holster out of netting, spray paint, velcro and duct tape (silver spray paint does NOT stick to 2-liter bottles, by the way) and finally, it was kind of okay. Not great but functional. 

So I put our masterpiece on the counter. The next morning Sloane had 30 seconds of unsupervised time and bam! completely trashed the fruits of our labor. She had a piece of velcro in her mouth and duct tape on her head when I found her. Not good.

"Scuba gear de-constructed." - By Sloane

So, back to the great costume search. I ended up ordering the stupid skeleton costume. 20 bucks plus 20 bucks in rush shipping. Really? Really.

Kinda cool, right? IF you can get your kid to wear
the mask and the gloves AND the foot things. Which I cannot.

New costume idea? Skeleton Scuba Steve. A mish-mash of the skeleton costume (he'll only wear the body suit, no mask or gloves) and the scuba outfit (no canisters or air tank, and no scuba mask but tie-dye swim-lesson goggles are okay, flippers but only if they're taped to his feet so they don't trip him). And oddly enough, it kind of works. 

That's an outfit, right?

So after bribing Tagg to get in his new costume with the help of epic-amounts-of-candy-potential bribery, and wrangling Sloane into her sparkly Tinkerbell outfit, off we went to trick-or-treating round 1 at my office. 

Fairy in motion. Some things never change!

Sloane was not happy. Tagg was not happy. But one candy bar later, they were both down with the magic of Halloween. Sugar.

A Halloween Miracle. In spite of a chocolate bar and a red sucker,
Sloane's darling outfit survived for round 2 of trick or treating.

"You got any contraband candy under there?"

Trick or treating this year consisted of 20 minutes of pictures, 6 houses of trick-or-treating (after Tagg stripped off the scuba half of his outfit and insisted on riding his scooter from house to house), hauling home half their body weight in candy, beer treats for the adults at our lovely neighbor's house, and then answering the door for about two-dozen trick-or-treaters while we played jumping games with glow-sticks in a completely dark living room.

Hilarious.

Size 4T and still high-water pants. At least the shoes are cool.

Cousins It.

I may have to revise my "hate" verdict on Halloween. It's growing on me.

Cute, right? I think we're cute. Even if it
does take suckers to get the kids to sit still for pictures,
and Scott and I just dressed up as parents.

Splash. Fly. Slide. Smile.

Tagg, the super flyer.

Sloane in the dog water. In her shoes.
The world's best swimming pool.

New slide strategy. It's strangely reminiscent of
Tagg's preferred form on the swing.

We take our sliding serious.

Picking unripe strawberries in hot pink moccasin
boots and a diaper. This could catch on.

Swimming lessons. One, two...ah, just go!

Four-wheelin' with the doll stroller.

Vroom-vroom.

Dance Moves

Bye-bye, Wiggles. Hello, Backyardigans. Yep, the old boys from down under have been replaced by some kooky cartoon animals with a zippy theme song.  They hear the first couple of bars and drop what they're doing to start grooving! I have to say...the kids' dance moves crack us up. We won't count on them winning So You Think You Can Dance in the future but they are stinking adorable.

Now, Harper on the other hand? Any 1 1/2 year old who knows how to drop it like it's hot...she may be a contender!

Powell - 2011

The view from the back of the houseboat.
Last Chance Bay at its finest.

Finally found my missing camera! Yay! Next came the challenge of sifting through 300+ mostly fabulous photos to find the ones that truly capture the million highlights of that week. I can't describe how much I love this trip with our family, at our lake. There's something so pure and natural and simple, yet so awe-inspiring, about Lake Powell. It's a place where you get back to basics. Where you remember how to enjoy a sunset that's not the background of a television commercial. Where the sound of the waves lapping on the shore is more compelling than your best iTunes playlist. Where throwing rocks in the water makes Angry Birds seems stupid and boring - even to a 3 year old. Where burgers and dogs and warmed-up leftovers put a spendy dinner in a gourmet restaurant to shame.

Little Twins. It's not their first Lake Powell
trip but at 14 and 12 months, they sure had a lot more fun!

Cool dudes.

Can't miss story time - even on vacation!
Please note the book title...My Mommy Hung the Moon.
Yes, I brought that on purpose. Just to remind
them that all the paranoia is really me being super-cool.

We made it out most mornings for our water-ski runs. Perfect glass. Perfect weather. I'm not sure how the adults made it through the 2am card games and still managed to get up for 7am ski runs, but we did it! And that's after full days of chasing little people. Impressive? Yes, yes it was.

Mud Princess.

Cute cousins - Brooke, Ashley and Tagg.

Tagg and Sloane had a blast. Sloane loved the mud, playing in the dirt and riding on the tube. Tagg loved the water slide, the water balloons, riding on the tube, playing with the hose, and throwing rocks into the water.

Sloane...you have a little something,
right there, on your face.

Bompa's new favorite napping place.

Introducing the next-gen Harmers to tubing...family tradition!
Sloane had my moves down!

Look familiar?

Mama-Hama surrounded by her grand-girls.
By far, one of my favorite pix of the trip.

Trying out some of our over-done safety gear.
She liked this better than the hip-sling!

The hikers...just before they found the mud pit.

Mama-hama's epic ski run. One of many!

Bompa's patented duck-foot, double-ski starting position.

Scott, taking over Bompa's pancake breakfast.

Dubbed Thing One and Thing Two, Bridger (4) and Tagg (3)
had a ball playing cars and wrestling blow-up whale rafts with Scott.

Thing Three...found this in the cabinets and it
became the trip mascot. We hid it somewhere
too, so we'll see if it survives till next year!

The AshBrooke Nail & Hair Salon in action.
Many a toe and finger nail were painted this
weekend, and we got a fabulous fashion show to boot!

Thing One and Thing Two.

Movie night for the big kids.

Ashley helping Tagg with his sunscreen.

Thanks for another amazing trip, and an amazing family!

 

Today (August 22nd - don't think I actually posted this the day I wrote it!) is my beautiful mother's birthday. I am not exactly sure how old she is - 60-something - and I don't really care. She is not defined by the number of years in my eyes, but by the love and patience and humor and joy she shares with everyone around her every year.

Having a Michael Jackson moment at
the Grand Canyon, before there was such a thing as
Michael Jackson moments. This may explain my fear of edges,
and my love of red sandstone cliffs.

I was looking through old pictures tonight, after running into mom and dad sharing a lovely, romantic dinner at Tuscany, and I can't always remember the moments or the outfits or the events but I do remember so clearly the love. Mom taught me to cook, to sew, to love reading and 50s music, to appreciate a good crossword puzzle. She has been an inspiration for patience and unconditional love and dedication.

I'm not sure who was teaching who how to cook
in this one. And, why-oh-why, was I always wearing a
mid-riff belly shirt?

I love her quilts, every stitch is an "I love you." I love her blue eyes which transmit clarity and honesty. I love her hands, which have always hugged us and shared and created with us and led all of us to be good people, and now they do the same for our children.

I love my mom's jacket, the three Xmas stockings and
the fact that the shit-eating grin on my face
in this picture is identical to the one Sloane gives me.
I think they call that "paybacks." 

Mom with her girls in 2010.

Family cruise in Cabo..."those ARE my kids"!

I love that she taught us to draw and paint, and do puzzles, and crochet and needlepoint, and make pottery, and plant flowers and plants, and bake bread and iron everything from shirtsleeves to pillow cases. I love her potato salad and Thanksgiving dinner and french breakfast muffins and that she gives my dad shit when she beats his ass at cards and that she gets tipsy off two glasses of wine or one margarita shooter with the sombrero on and a whistle-blowing amigo shaking her head when we're in Cabo. I love that she will rock out a Wii wakeboarding run or hula-hooping and just as easily makes Jello, feeds you Sprite and puts a cool rag on your head when you have a fever.

Mom with her next-generation girls (notably Ute fans) in 2010.

I love that she hand-made us angel food cakes with custom frosting for every single birthday and hid Easter egg baskets for us until we were in our 30s. I love that she drew paper dolls for us and helped us make dresses and outfits for them to wear with the little tabs and everything.  I love that she is a more passionate football and basketball fan than most guys I know. I love that she has 300 stuffed snowmen and Santa Clauses and her house looks like a Christmas shoppe (intentional E on the end) during the holidays. I love that she buys all of us "special" ornaments every year depending on what we're into at the time (Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader, anyone?). I love that she spoils each and every grandchild equally - not just with gifts but with love and attention. I love that she tells me I am a good mom and a good wife and a good person and that I see pride in her eyes when she looks at me.

Happy birthday, mom. I love you more than you know.

Birthday Suit

A little blow-up water slide action. This is the only photo
where he's wearing a swim suit, not his birthday suit.
What can we say? The kid likes to be naked.

Tagg turned 3 years old today. Can you believe it?! It seems like just yesterday that an angel placed him in my arms and gave us the greatest, most unbelievable gift you could ever imagine. And now that little bundled-up bald burrito-baby walks, talks, counts, spells, orders us around, goes potty by himself, reads books, has a fake laugh, an occasional mohawk, and knows that little tiny cars and balls are choking hazards for his baby sister.

Tagg and his friend Greyson whose birthday is basically
4th of July weekend. They both think fireworks shows are
created specially for their birthdays.

Tagg is definitely three...he's a pretty good negotiator. Me: let's read a book before bed. Him: how about three books?

With a couple of exceptions, the ONLY non-Cars related gift he got.
Apparently, I need to buy stock in Disney Pixar while he's under 10.

He's getting picky about food. PB&J, waffles, french fries, orange juice, and any candy or chocolate are high on the hit list. Whatever happened to the watermelon craze?!

Cars = Catatonic.

Tagg is fascinated with iPhones and the games he plays on them, especially Angry Birds (finally learned how to shoot the birds the right direction...used to just aim them at the ground to hear them squawk), Balloonimals, and the spelling and matching games.

Tagg likes to repeat back our parenting techniques. Him: Daddy. You stop mowing the lawn. Put away the lawn mower. Right now. One...Two... Really. And he actually gives us "the hand" on occasion.

The new bike was not nearly as cool as the new Cars scooter that Grama and
Bompa gave him. I think he'll dig it around Christmas.
You know, when it's all snowy and stuff. Should be perfect.

He likes to swing his stuffed animals on the swing-set and take them down the slide including the daddy's patented "underdog" maneuver.

He's in swimming lessons and Little Gym but really, his favorites are still "running fast like Lightning McQueen ka-chow" around the yard and the neighborhood, and jumping on anything. He's learning baseball and basketball but his favorite is running. He starts pre-school soon and still loves to read. He's tracing numbers and letters when he reads, and is trying to get a handle on the counting thing, he does puzzles meant for 6 year olds, and knows the words to more songs than Scott and I combined.

One of his other favorite gifts was a recordable Good Night Moon book from Nana and Papa. I don't know why but that one brought tears to my eyes the first time I heard it played. He reads/listens to that and I Love You All the Time a lot. I wish I had my grandparents voices reading me my favorite books, somewhere other than in my head. Very cool.

Getting ready for cake with muscle arms. Bear in mind, the cake already
hit the floor a couple of hours before party time when he saw it
and pulled it off the counter for a "snack" and then he
grabbed a good handful of frosting before the actual singing.
It really is all about the cake.

Tagg insisted that we have daddy's fireworks after the party at about 11.
Ouch. So we sat in the back of the truck and watched the show. Thank goodness
our neighbors spent about a ga-jillion dollars on fireworks. Daddy's were still the favorite!

Unfortunately, Tagg was in a pretty cranky mood for his birthday. Unusual, but with no nap and a little over-stimulation, not unexpected. I hear from my other parental-type friends that in a few years we'll be trying to drag him out of bed so we're trying to appreciate it while we work around it. He did have a ball at his party with all of his friends and we (maybe not him so much) were so grateful for all of the generous gifts and the love that surrounds our little love-bug.

In short, three years after that amazing day when we welcomed this perfect baby into our family, he's maybe even more perfect. The dimple in his cheek, those killer slate blue multi-faceted eyes, his blond hair with all of its cowlicks, his sweet loving nature, and his fascinating interesting entertaining self. Perfect.

 HAPPY 3RD BIRTHDAY, WONDERFUL BOY! WE LOVE YOU MORE THAN ANYTHING!

* You will note that I mentioned very little about his fascination with Cars. You should get that from the birthday photos. Is there ANYTHING that Disney Pixar doesn't make with a Cars theme?