Take me out to the ball game...

Yesterday. I'm sure I took this picture yesterday. Except this picture was taken the first year Mason played t-ball. When he was five.

He's not five now.

And he hasn't played baseball in, like, three years.

But please don't mess with my delusions. I'm quit attached to them.

This one's for you, Dad.

Givin' a little shout out (I'm 40 now. Is 40 too old to say, "Givin' a little shout out"? Probably. Oh, well. Deal with it.) to my dad this morning. Thanks for encouraging me to get my butt in gear and post a new blog. Since I know there's nothing my dad would rather see or read about than the grandkids, that's what todays pictures are of.

I will just mention, though, that today's pictures were taken with my new favorite toy, courtesy of my sweet, sweet husband, who spoiled my sox off for my 40th birthday. 'Cause I threatened him with dire, dire repercussions if he didn't. Can I just say, that he was more than up to the job of treating me like the princess of the world with a fantastic party, a trip to Vegas AND a new Nikon D90?

So... all that to say, here's some pictures of my boys. Bear with me as I learn to really make use of the new photographic equipment. I'm pretty sure you need some sort of specialized degree to really use that bad boy to it's fullest potential. I don't have that degree. But I'm gonna try. Stay tuned.

I love rock and roll...

This is Max.

Max is an aspiring rock star.

Max's greatest desire is to start a garage band.

Max is eight.

Max told his dad the other day that he has his garage band all figured out. He will play guitar. His friend H. can play keyboard and be the lead singer. His buddy J. can play the drums. J. does not have drums. No problem. Max is going to save up and buy J. a drum kit. Max says that it's okay that it will take him a little while to save up this much money. It will give him time to really master his band's first song.

Yankee Doodle.

Rock on, Max.

Mason Rocks!

Read about this video on the next post....

Okay, I've never tried to put a video on this blog before, but the time has come. These videos are such a window to the past that I practically cried the first 7,823 times I watched them. Just kidding. I've really only watched them 4,986 times. But there was no almost about the crying.

You try being the mom of these two and seeing them like this, when they are now NOT like this anymore.

These videos were taken while the kids were riding on our church's float in the Battle Ground Harvest Days Parade. I think Mason is about 5, which would make Max not quite 3. Why, oh, why aren't they 5 and 3 anymore?

Who is this grown up kid?????

Don't wait to make your son a great man - make him a great boy. ~Author Unknown

Today I'm running around like a crazy person, but I am COMMITED to putting up a new post every day, just in case there's anybody out there with nothing better to do than check out this blog. So today, what you get is my favorite picture ever, of Mason. This was taken about two years ago up at our friend, Andrew's cabin. Man, that's a good looking kid.

Young boys should never be sent to bed… they always wake up a day older. J.M. Barrie

My babies... My babies are just finishing up fifth and second grades, respectively. Do I have to be ready for this? Part of me can't wait for summer break, which is, by the way, only 5 weeks and 1 day away. Man, I look forward to having my babies home with me all the time. Really, they are the most fun and I love having them around. Also, this is the first year that I've really been working on a regular basis, and since I'm working as a teacher's aid at the school, summer break is a vacation for me too, and don't think I'm not looking forward to that! But...Mason will never be in fifth grade again, and I'll never have a second grader again at all. Excuse me...

Waaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!

Okay, I'm done crying now. I know from experience that raising these boys just gets better and better as we move from one stage to another, but, I can't help it. It just kills me to let go of the stage we're in. I cry myself to sleep on the "eve" of every birthday my boys have. I put them to bed one age and they wake up another! Isn't there anything that can be done about this?????

PS- Notice the picture. I "photoshopped" out the background. I think I'm pretty cool.

Little man, big night

Big day for Max and Mason, but bigger for Mom. Yesterday Mark helped the boys move Max's bed into the playroom and last night my babies slept in separate rooms for the first time, ever. I'm not ready, I'm not ready, I'm not ready. But they are. Whaaaa.

Congratulations, Mason. You rock.

The rules of soccer are very simple, basically it is this: if it moves, kick it. If it doesn't move, kick it until it does. ~Phil Woosnam, 1974

Well, the Columbia Timbers ended their state cup today with a 3-3 tie. Mason was an excellent addition to the team and we are really, really proud of him.

The Good Old Days

Boy, I'll tell you what. In these days of intense, heart stopping, life-or-death kids sports (the boys are, after all, 8 and 10 years old, respectively), it does my heart a world of good to look back to the good old days when sports were fun and my kids were so stinkin' cute it just about hurt to look at them. Take a peek. I think you'll agree. Those are some CUTE boys.

It ain't easy being a boy.

For those of you who know my family, you know that injuries, bloodshed and trips to the emergency room are just the cost of doing business when you're raising two boys and are married to another one. Here's a delightful shot of the latest in a long line of spectacular war wounds. Mason and Max were having a pillowfight. When Mason dove head-first into his brother's pillow, he didn't know that it was sitting on top of a log bed post. No stitches or trips to the emergency room this time. Just spectacular swelling and bruising. Isn't it nice to have a sympathetic mother who makes you sit still so that she can document the latest catastrophe for her blog? I bet the girls at school are "Oh, poor baby"-ing him to death. I also bet that he doesn't quite hate it as much as he pretends. 5th grade is a weird age.