should be in bed

Hi Bloggers! I have good news and bad news. The good news is, I'm finally resurfacing into blog world to reassure those (2) of you who feared the lack of updates indicated something was terribly, terribly wrong in the life of our family. We are present and accounted for! The bad news is, it's late and my brain is even mushier than usual, but I'm going to throw some words together and pray they come out in some sort of comprehensible fashion. Help us all.

Over Labor Day weekend, our little family made its way north to meet up with some of our bigger family in the great city of St. Louis. (And by "bigger family" I mean in quantity, not in physical stature.) Along the way our beloved Buick bit the dust. We sat on the side of a highway for three hours, were towed to a nearby McDonalds and proceeded to wait three more hours for my mom to come to our rescue.

Eventually, by the grace of God we arrived safely at our destination. The same cannot be said about the Buick.

One thing we did in St. Louis was visit Grant's Farm. It came highly recommended by several friends and it did not disappoint.

Here is pictorial evidence we actually visited said farm. Grant's Farm is owned by a wealthy family that makes adult beverages. I'd tell you the name of the family but I really don't want a Google search for adult beverage makers to land someone at our little blog. I'm thinking we're not what they're looking for. Although by the time this post is over, we might all need an adult beverage.

How about some pictures?


Photo-op!


At one time Grant's Farm belonged to Ulysses S. Grant. During the tour, our tram passed by his cabin. The farm is also home to all kinds of beautiful animals.




Speaking of beautiful, doesn't my sister birth some of the most stunning children ever?? Baby Boy...


and Big Sister.


Here's our crew at one of the animal shows. Chica's hogging all of Big Cousin's snacks. You'd think we've never fed her!


My brother-in-law's a great dad.


Chica loved the ride so much, she started to cry when I unbuckled her seatbelt.


Thankfully, there were so many other things to see.


Plus, the Cousins make the trip that much more fun!


Well, I'm off to bed bloggers. Before I go, I'll leave you with a beautiful photograph capturing family, fun and Big Girl Cousin shoving her entire hand in her mouth. Impressive, no?

Sweet dreams!

back to school

Today my Baby started Big Girl School. Somebody make it stop. Please make it stop. My Baby is getting so big. How can this be???

Aaaaand end scene.

I tried not to make a scene. Believe it or not, I didn't even cry. The sky did it for me. Forty minutes before Chica was supposed to be in her classroom, I was flying through the aisles of Kroger grabbing things to complete her lunch. You know that Bible story where Jesus is teaching the crowd of people and only one mom had any sense to send her kid with some lunch? I would not have been that mom.

Just as the automatic doors to the Kroger parted, the sky opened up and dumped its entire contents on my head. As I ran through the parking lot, lugging my grocery sacks, nothing was spared. Who knew a cereal box could dissolve that fast?

Thank heavens for helpful Daddies. By the time I returned home, he had changed her diaper, ironed her pants and scrubbed breakfast remains from her face. She was ready for her First Day of School Close Up.

When somebody figures out how she grew up so fast, please let me know. It's mind blowing. It defies science. I was bracing myself for her to ask for some mascara to wear or for the car keys to drive herself.

I'm not quite sure what she's doing in this picture. Testing the stretchiness of her pants? You'd hate to bust a seam on the first day of school.


Overcompensating for her new backpack? She loves that backpack, by the way. She spent all afternoon zipping and unzipping it. Clearly, she belongs in the gifted program.


I call this the I-Don't-Got-No-Umbrella Look.




Want to know why her father escorted her to class? Last week at Open House a spunky little boy ran up to her and hugged her with all his might, almost toppling her over. She loved it.

Her father did not.


At the end of the day her teacher said she was wonderful but that someone woke her up during nap time. I didn't ask if it was Spunky Boy.

It would have made for one Spunky Daddy.

some colorful commentary of my own

Proof that I'm not the best football viewing buddy:

"Why didn't they just make that stadium in the shape of a circle like all the other ones?"

"Ewww, his wristband is sick! Did you see that?"

"Look at that huge clipboard! What do you think they write on that thing?"

"Does he own those heads or does he borrow them from the mascots?"

"Who are we cheering for again?"

"Are we into this game or can I change the channel?"

"Has that camera that hangs down ever been hit before?"

"They really should let the refs wear pads too."

"You know, Chica could be a football player because she's used to falling down all the time."

Poor Daniel. I'm expecting a call from ESPN any day now about coming on full time with the network. Happy watching bloggers!

a vehicle eulogy

Beloved Buick,
In the year of 1997, you rolled off the assembly line, shiny and new. At that time you were one owner and six years away from entering our lives. But you were wanted nonetheless.

Hardly the product of overindulgent parents striving to suffice sweet sixteen expectations, you were a used dream materialized when a young man purchased you outright and in cash. You were bought through the sweat of a teenaged umpire, sacrificing what limited free time he had at the ball field. Your air conditioning brought sweet relief after standing in the sweltering heat calling pitches. He was thankful to trade in the soundtrack of heckling spectators for the Matt Wertz that drifted through your system.

In college you made his rounds. Tailgating at all sorts of professional and collegiate games, your trunk was the perfect size for the mini grill. You picked up his girl from class when it rained and risked many a parking tickets while you waited for him to finish his dinner at the dining hall.

Several times you took him to summer camp. Since then you chauffered countless teenagers who had no other way of getting to church but by you.

In the summer of 2006, you pulled away from a wedding reception, sporting shoe polish and silly string. One week later and chock full of boxes of the newlyweds' belongings you forged three states to your new home. For the next three years you racked up the miles getting to Dallas and back for seminary classes. You never knew you could go that fast.

In the spring of 2008 you pulled out of the hospital parking lot with a seven pound bundle of joy as your newest passenger. You never knew you could go that slow.

Or carry that much stuff.

In your six years with us you survived fishing trips, diaper changes, sunflower seeds and shady parts of multiple towns. So when your transmission surrendered last weekend on that Missouri highway, we couldn't fault you. We weren't easy owners. But we sure are grateful.

R.I.P. Le Sabre. And if there is such a thing as Buick heaven, could you please have those belongings we left in you shipped to us? You know where we live.

cheese ball face

Can you guess which parent taught her this?

cheese ball face from Rachel Hinton on Vimeo.

P.S.- I'm really hoping there isn't Swine Flu on that Wendy's condiment station.

hands

"Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their work: if one falls down, his friend can help him up."
Ecclesiastes 4:9-10

photography humor

Sometimes

getting your picture taken

can be so

stinking

hilarious.