Any Extreme

On the way back from taking some baby pictures for Keaton's cousin Andrea, Paula and I stopped at Cabelas for a moment to pick something up for Stan. Being in the Prius ensured that we would be parking in the very furthest parking spot from the entrance (Paula maintains that it is for the exercise--but I know better.) When we got out of the car she showed me something she had noticed on a trip a few days earlier. In the middle of the parking lot rock landscaping, there sat a very nervous bird.

"She made such a sqwaking the last time we came here," Paula told me, "we looked to see what the fuss was about. Check it out. She's sitting on some eggs."

So she was. In the blazing July heat, this poor little bird was crouched protectively over her eggs in quite an ill-chosen spot, right there on the ground amongst the landscaping rocks. I had my camera with me, of course, so I tried to sneak a bit closer to get a better view.

"She doesn't like it if you get close," Paula said. "Last time she came after me."

Sure enough, our presence put the little mother on red alert. In distress, she popped up from her rock-nest and skittered several feet away from it.

"She's trying to draw us away from her eggs," I said in wonder.

That wasn't all. As I inched closer to to her greatest treasure, she began hopping and fluttering around, chirping and sqwaking and vigorously flailing about. It became immediately apparant that she was pretending to be injured, as if her wing were broken and she couldn't fly. For a bird, this must be something akin to laying yourself across train tracks or stepping in front of a firing squad. She was trying to draw us away. We were a threat...and she was using herself as bait to lure us away from her babies. In a very real way, she was offering herself as a sacrifice--willing to go to any extreme to ensure her babies' safety.

It really touched me. I snuck one last picture and we decided not to disturb her anymore. As we backed away and she hurriedly returned to her spot protectively crouched on the eggs, I felt a sort of kinship with her. Wouldn't any mother do the same?
I hugged my own baby a little bit tighter as soon as I got home.

Aunt Linda

Last week my aunt passed away. I still don't know what to say or write about it, so here is my letter to my brother Brandon, who is on a mission to Brazil.


Hey little Bro,

I know you've probably heard from everyone else about Aunt Linda's passing--and for you its probably quite fresh and still awful. I guess since it was a few days ago I've come to terms with it more but it has given me the opportunity to think. You know, its like all of a sudden there comes a very brutal reminder that this life is short, and we are mortal. I has given me a great sense of urgency. You just never know. I loved Aunt Linda and her death was a bit of a shock but when mom asked me if I wanted to go see her body I said no. It isn't her anymore, and seeing Ellen for the last time in the hospital was so unsettling I prefer not to have the same image of Linda. So the last time I saw her was when I stopped by her house a couple months ago, and she gave me a blanket for Jamison. It was a pleasant little visit. A good last memory, I think.

I haven't blogged about it yet because I'm really not quite sure what I want to say. On one hand, it is good that she is no longer in pain. and we know the plan of salvation, so we know she is with Grandma and Grandpa and Aunt Ellen. On the other hand, we both know her mortal life was less than perfect--but who's is? It has brought me to the realization that it is a good thing that it is all in the Lord's hands--and he is merciful. So I really don't know what else to write, just that I know it really sucks to find out but once the shock wears away it isn't that bad. Thank goodness for the big Plan, eh? She's doin a'right, I'm sure.

Hope you have a good week, my blog posts will probably make you at least laugh a little. :)

Love Crystal

Providence Trail

Jeep Glamour Shots:

Matt, in all of his glory: The one picture of me. I don't know if you can tell by my hand posture, but I was terrified at the moment. Yep, terrified....that Matt was holding my camera.

Strangely enough, this is not where we bent the tie rod.

Taking off the tie rod:
This is how you fix things on the trail.

Last Saturday we went jeepin (GEE-pin, verb. To be jostled about for several hours inside a big-wheeled vehicle. Especially appealing to rich people, rednecks, and reckless husbands with extremely indulgent wives.) with some of Keaton's work buddies who, coincidentally, all happen to own fancy lifted jeeps (though more of wrangler variety. There was one other cherokee and a four-wheeler as well). We went up to a trail right outside of Providence--so pretty! And of course, whenever one of them tackled an obstacle, the others had to go over it too. Not to worry, these guys all hail from the vehicle ops department and are, as Keaton so often reminds me, "professional vehicle operators." :)

We did have a bit of a snag when the tie rod on Keaton's jeep bent as he was going over a rock. Normally this would have put us out of commission...but this was no ordinary group of guys. They did emergency surgery right there on the trail, removing the steering, bending the tie rod back by cramming it in the nook of our bumper and using three guys to leverage it, and then putting it back on. We went the entire rest of the trail with no problem. (unfortunately we still have to replace the tie rod. Sigh.)

The coolest part, I thought, was the butterflies--the whole trail was glittering with the flutter of orange wings. I commented how pretty it was, and one of the guys replied, "Yeah, it's nice now--but think how many catepillars there were two weeks ago!"

Umm, gross?

A great ride--I love that time with my hubby. I've even learned not to mind being jostled. I might even call it "fun." :)

I think my baby ate an earwig

I think Jamison just ate an earwig.

About a half hour ago I was putting some dishes in the sink. I saw an earwig.

I stepped on it. A couple of times, just to make sure it was dead.

It's sweep and mop day today, so no big deal. I'll sweep it up in a minute, I thought to myself. Then I get called out of the kitchen for some reason or another.

A few minutes ago I return to the kitchen to make Jamison a bottle so I can feed him and put him down for a nap. I leave him in the living room while I measure the water and scoop in the formula. He crawls into the kitchen and sits at my feet to see what I am doing. I look at him and smile. He smiles back.

He's got something in his mouth. Thinking he's found a piece of Duncan's dog food (again) I reach down and poke my figer in his mouth to try and pull it out.

He swallows and then wails angrily at me for the intrusion. Nothing in his mouth anymore.

And then I look to where my smashed earwig was lying, waiting for its final interment in the garbage can.

It's gone.

I ask Jamison, "You didn't just...? Did you...?"

He smiles like he's been a little rebellious and he's proud of himself.

Secretly I hope it was a piece of dogfood.

Fireworks

This has been such a busy month, I haven't had much time to do things for myself. Yesterday was a slight break, Keaton and I went jeeping up a beautiful trail in providence, but there will be more pictures of that later.

I had wanted to go to the Clinton fireworks but because the family session I shot later that evening went long, I didn't have time to get the boys packed up and dragged off to the park. Instead, I spread a blanket out on the cement, put the camera on its tripod and waited for the fun to begin from the comfort of my own driveway. I thought I'd share a few.

You know you're a mother when...

The other day I was so relieved that Keaton had finally come home from work to take my teething, fussy child off of my hands so I could--finally!--get the grocery shopping out of the way and fill up our very bare cupboards. I was so relieved, in fact, that I didn't want to give him a chance to change his mind or add something to the list or delay me in any way. I hurriedly grabbed my purse, grabbed my car keys, dashed out the door, looked down, and realized...

I forgot to put on any shoes. Halfway to the car before I even noticed.


And today--
(I cannot believe I'm posting this. But what is a blog for if you can't make your reader's eyes burn with a visual they could go their entire life without?)

So I really had to go to the bathroom. But Jamison has been very clingy and fussy while he's been running a fever in this weeks teething episode. I couldn't put him down a minute or he'd start into this tragic, broken-hearted cry which, of course, had me saying things like, "Of course I won't leave you, baby! I'm right here!" And I'd swoop him back up.

When I finally got him playing with some blocks on the living room floor I knew it was now or never and dashed to the bathroom, which is right off the living room and up seven stairs. I'd just barely plopped myself down when I heard an unmistakable da-da-da from outside the bathroom door. Too close outside the bathroom door. So what do I do?

I jump off the pot, hop to the door with my pants around my ankles, find my baby on the fourth step up, and lunge to catch him--dropped pants and all--as he tips backwards, losing his balance after the startle his mom gave him popping out of the bathroom like a crazy woman.

I managed to save Jamison, but there was no hope for my dignity. It was dead on the scene.

One of my old coworkers warned me that going through pregnancy and childbirth would rid you of every shred of dignity you possessed.

I beg to differ.

Afternoon, sir

Poor little guy.

Naptime isn't over for him until mommy has taken a thousand pictures.

There is only one thing to be done.

Take away her toy.

All Things Being Equal

Last week, when we were out to eat with Carma and Steve and Keaton's brother Logan, we started discussing the fact that Carma and Steve were staying in West Valley and driving back and forth between Davis and Weber counties and West Valley because Steve's parents had a nice guest bedroom. "One day," I told Carma, "we'll have a guest bedroom and you can stay at our house, its halfway between."

This got Keaton on a subject we've been over many times before. "We need to get a King size bed and then we can move our Queen to the guest bedroom."

"He's always complaining," I told the rest of the group, "but he complained more when I was pregnant. Go figure."

"We still need to get a new mattress," he insisted. "It isn't as bad as when you were pregnant, but still..."

"We don't need a new mattress," I said, "the one we have is fine."

"But," Keaton said in exasperation, "you take up like, fifty percent!"

Logan didn't miss a beat. "What you're saying is, that she takes up an entire fifty percent, leaving you with only....fifty percent?"

Keaton computed that. We all broke into laughter. He stammered for a minute, trying to justify his statement, but even he started laughing.

I thought marriage was about being equal with your partner.

I guess not when it comes to bedshares.

Later, Keaton decided that if we go by size, it really should be 70-30. Which is flattering...but I think I'll keep my 50%. I makes up for the 100% of the covers he steals.

Rainy Day Photo Shoot

Carma came up for the holiday weekend from Arizona and we decided that we would do a mini photo shoot so A. I could get a good photo to put on my blog and website and B. so I could impart my vast photo knowledge to her eager young mind (not really, she already knows most of it, I was just teaching her a few of the tricks and tips I've learned in the last little bit). But it rained...and rained...and rained... which was fine for the lighting (it was SO GORGEOUS) but not so good for the hair. (But check out the black and white of Carma. I made it big because wow)

Paula has advised me that the pictures I've put on my new header and profile pic don't really look like me because I'm not smiling! So here is a smiling one...

Its a little dorky, but I guess thats just me...

Exhibit A

Reasons why I couldn't quit until we had health insurance:

And yes, he is holding a chainsaw.
Sidenote: He did fall later and scraped up his arms and legs trying to keep from breaking his neck.