I plopped her down in a drift taller than her, and she buried her paws, then her head, and plowed a pathway all across the deck, into the yard, and back again.

On her return, she had some licking to do.

I think that her tongue is bigger than her face.

What a weirdo.

And then she was finished. Lickity splitticky.

I think I’ll be scrubbing the patio doors for a while. Or then again, maybe I won’t – it’s possible that they’ll be crystal clear by the time it thaws out, thanks to a certain freaky deaky puppy.

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The prospect of staying in jammies all day with my boys, celebrating what treasure the tooth fairy would bring, watching movies, playing outside in the snow, coming in for cocoa and marshmallows? Well all of those things just happen to be my most favorite things about winter. To be honest, I would trade nearly everything about winter to just live near the ocean on some warm beach and be barefoot in the sand for the rest of my life, but admittedly, there is something magical about snow to which nothing else compares.

I’m pretty sure that Willow would be quite miserable in any place but Colorado. Even on our warmest/hottest days, the evenings still cool down very nicely and you’d do best to have a light jacket handy, just in case.

I thought she’d be worn slick from hopping like a rabbit throughout the deep snow today (it was above her shoulders), but she just kept going, begging even, to be outside in it.

And finally, our 6yo wants to have his picture taken. That new hole in his head has proved to be the catalyst, I think.

Well, that and trying to catch snowflakes on his tongue.

The small fry joined in, but there was a stiff breeze every now and again that wasn’t cold, per se, but it did kick the snow right into your eyes.

So he threw snow back at the wind.

And the wind met his challenge by kicking it up a notch.

So did Willow.

Notice how he now rolls that top lip in so that we can experience that new gap to its fullest. What a nimrod.

My neighbor, owner of three huskies herself, finally got to meet Willow the Pillow.

I think they hit it off awesomely.

And then Willow found a snow pile mountain to climb and claim and practice being queen for a while.

What a happy girl.

And after the boys gave the snow one good last squishing, kicking, and stomping, they paused briefly before we headed back in.

And we celebrated, hot cocoa style, before settling back down into our cozy pants and some rest time on this lazy ol’ day.

Thank you, thank you Motha Nature. You delivered well on your promise of snow, and we shall honor you highly on this bonus of a three-day weekend.

We raise our cups to you.

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I picked up a snaggletooth from the bus stop.

I begged him to stop wiggling the darn thing until we could get home and take a picture.

He barely made it. When I tied his hands behind his back in the car, he wiggled it with his tongue. Thank goodness I drive fast and like a maniac. We got home just in the nick of time.

He showed Daddy and wiggled and wiggled and wiggled.

And wiggled and giggled and wiggled.

And then something happened.

Toothless!!

And then he told us that the going rate for a tooth was $1,000.

Boy were we unprepared.

Forever in debt,

Me.

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This past weekend, we had a visit from the coolest, most awesome little family and had a blast doing next to nothing.

They’ve been Coloradoans for about a month, and already have Colorado plates, their Colorado licenses, and a Colorado baby backpack. Ha.

A couple of years back, our 6yo couldn’t for the life of him remember Ryan’s name, so he just started calling him “Danny.” This visit, our 2yo couldn’t get their daughter’s name right (Emarie), so she became “Henry.”

She seemed ok with it, and he went on about his business of loading and reloading nerf guns and shooting Danny Ryan.

To ensure our chances of subsequent visits, out of the house and to the park we went.

Gosh. I need another baby. A girl baby. Can’t stand it.

My babies never got to wear skinny jeans.

Not fair. I got kamikazes instead. Oh this just can’t be a good idea…

Sheesh.

See? They come out of nowhere to get you.

Oooooh minions.

But then I had an idea.

This hill is the most awesome hill around. It holds snow nicely but the real secret good stuff is that the grass, this time of year, is so very slick, and if you time it just right…

You can get some good knee slidin’ in.

Yeah baby. The small fry got a little caddywumpus up there, but by next year he’ll be like the wind.

Ludicrous speed, my friends.

Yee-freakin’-haw.

Tara, on the other hand, was a force to be reckoned with right away.

She might have gotten some grass in some spots unexpected.

Him too.

And you, little Henry, do not fret. You’ll be out there soon.

He’ll teach you.

He tried to teach Danny Ryan how to ride Neckie, the Dinosaur (for the love of all things holy, we all thought he kept saying, “Let’s get naked”, but thank goodness it was really, “Let’s get Neckie.” Whew.)

Danny Ryan couldn’t seem to get his dinosaur started.

It’s ok. You got schooled by a 2yo. No big.

Ok. One more go at the hill….

Have I mentioned before that he goes all in?

The best part about good ol’ Colorado fresh air?

This.

And she wasn’t the only one.

A well-spent day brings happy sleep.

.Leonardo da Vinci.

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What a roller coaster they’ve been. I joked about getting a new puppy and how it would probably feel like we’ve welcomed a new baby again, but Lord have mercy on me these 3 a.m. wake up pleas to go outside have been brutal. I didn’t have those last few weeks of anxious light sleep and awesome anticipation of a pregnancy coming to the end to prepare me for this exhaustion. It’s kind of funny, actually, since just two weeks ago I had mentioned to a friend that in my ideal world, I would be that person who would wake at 5 a.m., have some quiet work time in the morning before the boys were awake and attacking their day (and mine, ha), and go to bed earlier. My sweet, although loud, new pup has dragged me into my ideal world’s new routine. And I enter it begrudgingly, mourning the loss of an extra two hours of blissful sleep, over a hot pot of coffee at 5:05 a.m. while she nips happily at my toes.

My toes aren’t the only ones she’s nipping at, either.

She has managed to find a pretty good hidey hole underneath our ottoman, although she’s not going to fit under there much longer.

There’s wild yapping and teasing, and unless you’re quite sure of the origin, it’s hard to spot her unless the Ellie Dawg is trying to draw her out.

Ok that’s just funny. It looks like I’ve smashed her under the ottoman.

I didn’t, by the way.

She gets about nine kinds of crazy when she teases Ellie.

And then there’s the howling. Thank goodness this wasn’t at 5 a.m.

It’s like the black hole under there. Poor Ellie.

Oh the stand off. The final showdown.

I am tired.

But she is still awesome.

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I have neglected my littlest.

So now? We’re dating.

Lots of little daytime dates will be happening from now on, especially since he’s such a smart little cookie and he needs more than just momma.

Our first adventure? The Denver Aquarium.

He was not sure at first, convinced that he would be eaten by a crocodile, but he soon warmed to the idea after he talked me into bringing the kids’ iPod for his own photojournalistic documentary of this excursion. And after all of that work, he ended up going through my pictures, critiquing and reliving each, to pick his faves from the day.

First up? The stuck turtle-like thing.

Seriously. We think it was stuck between those two branches. It kind of flailed. For a while. A good while.

And the otters. I love them.

We both tried to get some good shots of them, but they were too quick.

We went through the different rooms slowly, picking our way around this tank and that…

Until finally going through the tunnel and looking up to see this.

Looks like a botoxed alien in a mumu. Nearly peed my pants giggling.

This fish was kissing his cheek. Pfft.

I love this turtle, too. Named him Crush. (That’s original.)

One of the funniest things ever is to see your boy pop up in the middle of an aquarium. He looks like a bobble head.

We have studied and talked about this sea star below a lot. The little guy is fascinated with how he must have lost his ray.

Grumpy fish.

Searching, nearly in vain, for the tigers. Yes, tigers. At the aquarium.

And barely spotted.

They’re surrounded by a big moat of fish. These fish, to be exact.

What underwater adventure would be complete sans Nemo and Dory? Not this one.

And Jacques. Oui.

I love this fish so much. My eyes nearly went cross-eyed forever from trying to stare at his crazy stripes and swirls.

Oh, the jellies. Nature’s own lava lamp.

After feeling like we’d been watching the Big Lebowski, we made our way to the restaurant.

I have to admit, it felt somewhat odd eating fish there, but we did anyway.

The best part?

The Shark Attack.

I accidentally broke his dorsal fin off and also accidentally ate it. And by the way, this pic does nothing to show perspective. We brought 2/3 of this cake home, which barely fit in the take-home box. Gracious mercy it was large.

But it did induce a lovely sugar coma for someone who’s knocking on the door of three years old.

Now that’s a good date.

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1. Ridin’ with the Fish.

She’s a brown dog.

Duh.

Ellie the Smelly has needed a playmate, I have needed more girl power around here, and since those other two stinkpots up there are growing up fast, taking no prisoners in the manliness factor, and there’s an unscrubbable layer of dirt everywhere and poop talk at the dinner table, I’ve been feeling the need to woman up. I’ve tried everything I can think up: some new flowered pillows as couch accents, Scentsy plugins pumping in some floralness, fresh flowers on every possible surface, even bought some fingerless gloves with crocheted flowers on them.

It’s not enough, and thankfully, Hank recognized the deficit and began looking for a special Christmas gift for me last fall. After much time and searching and emailing and researching, he found a lovely breeder in Kansas who had just introduced a new litter of Husky pups, my favorite dog ever (other than boxers – those are cool, too). The pups were born about two weeks before Christmas, so I received a cute little pink collar as a gift under the tree with a promissory note of delivery sometime late January.

By the way, did you notice I made up three new words up there in the “Ellie the Smelly” paragraph? Lexicographers…beware.

Our journey was epic. Epic. It was a six-hour road trip (each way), and our friends offered to keep our two boys for the night so Hank and I could both go. We left about 7:45 on Friday evening, and can I just say that there is not much along Highway 36 in Kansas? Not even the moon was with us that night. Seriously, I think we only saw about 15 other cars the entire time. Aside from nearly running out of gas and having a very hard time finding a place to sleep for the night while it was all of 11 degrees outside, it was quite nice getting to spend that kind of time with my man.

After spending about an hour and a half calling and searching and moving from town to town, we finally found an awesome place to stay. Brand spankin’ new and quite accommodating.

Evidently, it was in bird-hunting country as well, and there had been a couple of instances of bird cleaning in the rooms. Oh boy. So funny.

Another note? The Sleep Inn in Norton, KS, also has kennels for your bird dogs. Pretty cool, actually.

During an awesome breakfast in Phillipsburg, Hank and I totally felt Portlandia-ish. What dorks we are. We actually asked what kind of bacon we were eating (Cotter style, and I’m probably making up how to spell that since I can find nothing to support it on the Internets), asked if it was local (wth?!), and nearly went next door to the butcher’s place to ask more about it. Thankfully, Hank gave me this look and we stopped ourselves from looking the fools we are. Sheesh.

The coffee was good too, but we decided not to inquire about whether or not it was fair trade or organic. Yay for restraint.

But on to our girl. What a honey pumpkin she is. Oh, and she also looks kind of like a raccoon.

Meet Willow. Or Willow the Pillow, Fuzzball, Nutjob, Spazoid, or No Don’t Pee There. She has lots of nicknames.

To say that she was a little sad to leave her siblings and Pam, the breeder, is an understatement. She spent her first 30 minutes with us vacillating between this,

And howling.

Oh boy did she miss her first home.

But by our first stop, she starting warming up and playing. And sleeping. And some more howling.

I love doggy smiles.

You know…she actually sounded suspiciously like a turkey call for a good portion of that sad time. Girlfriend can make some funky noises.

But by the time we finally got home, she was showing us her insane confidence and fun nature, and she greeted the boys with every bit of spunk that is in her.

He couldn’t wait to kiss her, and boy did she reciprocate.

Bah. Really bad lighting choice on my part – sorry. And oh look, my elbow shadow is right across my boy’s face. Awesome. What can I say? It was utter chaos and OH MY GOSH WE HAVE A NEW PUPPY!!!!

By the time we got home, this is all she wanted to do.

Those first few days were just like having a newborn. She slept at all the wrong times and was awake at night, howling. We’re crate training, and the Ellie Dawg was right next to her in her crate, trying to sleep. Poor little timid Ellie actually fussed at her for howling too much.

She’s fitted herself right into our family, though.

When you pick her up, she still makes the cute little puppy grunts. And she’s sorta shaped like a football; that belly ain’t just for show, she means business when she’s hungry.

Love.

More of her to come. She and Ellie have become fast friends and playmates, and Willow has a “hiding spot” under the ottoman, which she’s sure to be stuck under within a week or so. She’s about to learn a hard and fast girl fact: we’re seldom as petite as we think. Pfft.

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Somedays, it feels a little uncomfortable to call him “boy” because he’s becoming more introspective and aware and, well, merging into the young man I know is fighting like hell to come to the surface.

He has those pouty lips and sullen eyes when he sees me trying to snap a pic, and I’m treading this fine line of respecting him yet still being able to freeze snippets of him on camera.

He never leaves me worrying about that growing-up-too-fast for too long, though. He has a playful side that is beating that right down.

Love that about him.

One of the best things in the world to be is a boy; it requires no experience, but needs some practice to be a good one.

.Charles Dudley Warner.

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I had a friend tell me that her son came home from school a few days ago happy, then quickly turned into a gigantoid sourpuss and was pretty cranky at everyone else for a time until she took a few deep breaths and offered, “Son, would you like to have a spanking or do you want to come over and let me hold you for a while?”

To her surprise, and perhaps somewhat out of character for his spunky self, he chose the holding.

It made me wonder if I was just looking for a little brawl for my short stuff today instead of being content with holding him for a while. Or, if I wasn’t listening to what he really needed because it was being presented in a way that made me nearly lose it.

Probably some of both, to be honest. Seems like we feed off of each other sometimes.

Irregardless…

I’m just kidding. That word makes no sense, even if it’s allowed by spellcheck.

Regardless…I’ve come to the conclusion that every picture that I take of him is another paragraph in his insurance policy.

He is clever, funny, and witty; all beyond his measly 2 years and 11 months. And gosh darnit I think he’s terribly cute.

We have conversations. He has my snarky sense of humor and his dad’s ability to wage the risk against the consequence, which does sometimes mean that it’s worth the risk.

That above is this “camera” girl’s version of video. He was “running”.

He asks for our help as he needs it, but more often than not lately he hits me with, “No, I can do it.”

And you know what? He can.

He tries and is confident.

He takes the risk.

And then he tells me, commands me, to check it out – this great feat.

And believe me, I do. He might not need me to once he figures it all out.

And he just might.

Because how ever many insurance claims he files, however he tries my patience, he really is “a keeper” as Hank says.

And worth every bit of his premium.

Maybe so much so, that it would justify the next swanky lens on my list, you know, just to be sure I’m getting the pics of him that make me remember sweet afternoons like this one… hmmmm.

And I sign off wearily, but happily (because he’s asleep now, ha)…good night.

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So…I’m having a really hard time at being ok with sucking at some forms of indoor photography. But you know what? These aren’t done for professional use, and I’m struggling to learn this indoor lighting thing, and gosh darn it, I still love pictures of my silly kids, no matter how awful the color is in these.

And…this is a New Year’s Resolution for me, to admit to myself and out loud that I simply don’t know everything and in particular, I can’t figure out how to take a decent picture under difficult lighting situations. There you have it.

We had fun anyway. We always do. And isn’t that where the blessings are?

There’s really not much better than tossing your small fry into a foam pit and watching him try to clamber out.

Or watching his cute little friend, just two weeks his junior, spread her wings and fly.

Our little guy needed some coaching and coaxing and ok-maybe-a-little-push-or-two to be free.

Yeah baby!

And then there’s this one, who needs absolutely no coaxing or coaching, just a safety net and a heart monitor for his mother.

Awesome.

So that is all. Welcome to my insecurities wrapped around my fantastic boys. Ha.

Over and out.

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