The Definition of Insanity

Every time the subject of family pictures comes up, Tony likes to remind me that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again yet expecting a different result.

Three years ago my whole family got together as one brother was coming home from a mission and another was leaving. Perfect time for a family picture, right? I found a great location at a local park with lots of stone fences. My brother, Chris, lined up a photographer friend in the area. We coordinated our clothes.

Then three things happened to complicate the actual session: (1) It rains. (2) The photographer shows up an hour late. (3) The photographer turns out to be a "photographer" -- that is, just a guy with a fancy camera who has no experience posing anything or anybody. My not-particularly-well-hidden frustration prompted my father, as he drove back to my house, to tell my two younger brothers and my mom to each find one nice thing to say to me about the family pictures. (I find it ironic that my father, the youngest of six Eastern Oregon farmboys, always ends up doing emotional damage control for his daughter.) Some of the pictures we took with our own digital cameras while we were waiting for the "photographer" turned out half-way decent.

Fast forward to this past summer. The whole family gathers for Jordan's North Carolina BBQ and the 4th of July. What a great opportunity for another family picture! Actually, this process turns out much better, the only problem being that we now have kids and we took the picture in the evening, just before their bedtime when they were already whacked out due to traveling.

But, I really loved the pictures of me and my brothers...

And this one of us and my parents...
The entire group shot is great too. However, I ask you, how is it that the shortest person in the family ends up standing in a hole? For the record, Tony is only nine inches taller than me and my mom is only three...

My "favorite," though, is this one. I look like I'm pinning Tony against the barn to keep him from escaping. What I am actually doing is trying to keep a tired, cranky, wiggly toddler from escaping. Sigh... all my siblings' individual family shots look nice...

This fall, I told Tony that I wanted a family picture for our Christmas card. He shook his head, but he knew this wasn't negotiable. I promised to set my expectations incredibly low: one good picture of Afton and I'd be ecstatic. We arranged for a friend--a bona fide photographer--to take some pictures by these railroad tracks. We got to the session, situated ourselves for the first pose, and then made the fatal mistake of taking away the rocks that Afton had happily found all over the track. There was screaming. There was flailing. There was kicking and thrashing and inconsolable crying. Ordinarily we'd just let the fit run its course, but, well, we're on railroad tracks and she's wearing a white shirt....

As someone once told me, with pictures of kids, you really just need 5 seconds of good to get one picture that's not too bad. Who would have ever guessed this was proceeded by ten minutes of tantrum, complete with big big tears?

So there you have it -- 'til next year :). I'm okay with being crazy.

Mr. Mom

As with Gremlins, there are a few simple rules associated with caring for Afton. (1) When all else fails, feed her broccoli for dinner. (2) Give her her pink blanket and pink bunny whenever she needs comfort or sleep. And (3) Never, ever, leave her unattended while she has access to the straps of her diaper.

On Wednesday, Tony took the day off of work to hang out with his niece and nephew (who had spent the night the night before) and to take care of Afton so I could get a much-needed full day at work. A little after noon, I received this email:

So. After lunch I stuck Afton in her crib to "take a nap." I changed her out of her pj's and figured I would change her into clothes after the "nap." After 35-minutes of hearing her talk and scream and babble, I didn't hear anything for a few minutes. I went in to take her out and saw her standing naked in her crib. I suddenly remembered you telling me that when Afton protests in her crib she does so by taking off her diaper. To my horror, at the opposite end of where Afton was standing was the pile of poop. A big pile. A smelly pile. A brown pile. Afton just beamed; seeming to know what she had done and that while I may have won the initial battle, she had won the war.

Last night, Tony slept in the basement so he could get 11 hours of uninterrupted sleep--one extra hour courtesy of daylight savings time. Meanwhile, I took care of Afton who woke up at 5 a.m. -- oblivious to the time change. After returning home from church this afternoon, Tony told me he could watch Afton so that I could take a nap.

Tony took Afton who was wearing only a dress--meaning no tights, no pants, no bloomers, nothing over her diaper--to his mancave, turned on an animated movie, got a blanket himself, and after a while, (accidentally I suppose) fell asleep on the floor. He woke up smelling something awful and opened his eyes to see only Afton's bare naked sweet cheeks (the cheeks on the backside, that is). It took him a moment to realize that not only had Afton taken off her diaper and pooped in the corner, but she had also promptly sat on his sleeping face while having some remnants of the poop pile still stuck to those sweet cheeks. As part of the clean-up process, Tony not only had to clean the carpet and Afton's backside, but he also had to wash his own poop-smeared face.

Much to Tony's chagrin, my first response was uncontrollable laughter and "This is soooo blog-worthy!"

Afton's response was probably something like: Hee-hee... Gotcha!

Let the Wild Rumpus Start!

Every once in a while, I think it's good to rock your kid's world by doing crazy things like having a visit from relatives.

(We shall entitle this photo, "Happy Halloween Courtesy of Grandma Debbie.") Afton was so quick to warm up to them that Aunt Audra actually asked at one point, "Since she never smiles, how do you know when she likes something?" I said, "Wait for her dad to walk through the back door." In the midst of Afton's distress over crowds that are bigger than three people, I have vascillated between feeling like I'm the world's worst parent for subjecting her to torture and feeling like the sweet A-Bear needs to get a grip. (Yes, I know she'll figure it out in time.)

Despite Afton's skepticism about all the people who are simply anxious to love and get to know her--including little Elsa who has learned from the other side of the family that girl cousins are way fun--we had a good time. One afternoon, we hit the zoo and took a spin on the "conservation carousel."

(Afton actually did smile for this actvity, and then she cried when we had to get off. As we waited in line, she kept trying to squeeze herself through the fence to get in... She loves that thing.)

And as a fantastic gift, Chris and Audra insisted that they babysit Afton one evening so Tony and I could go on a date. Tony came home from work with this gorgeous autumnal arrangement in celebration of the fifth anniversary of our first date.

Yes, yes, we still celebrate that one.

Then, just as Elsa and Gibson were leaving, Afton's other cousins arrived. The wild rumpus may continue!

Jail Break

Who could send this face to timeout?
We did. This past weekend began an important phase in Afton's life: timeout. I have been arguing for the timeout policy since....oh, about a week after she was born. I am an especially ardent supporter of this disciplinary tactic during BYU football games. Much to my chagrin, Heather has kept Afton's best interests at the forefront of our parenting plan. However, this past weekend we instituted the timeout when she started to bite Heather's hair and pull it out; an act which certainly merited such a punishment. We told Afton what she did wrong and then explained to her she would be in timeout for 2-minutes. The above picture was taken within 25-seconds of being placed in the crib.
45-seconds
50-seconds
75-seconds. We took Afton out once we realized she may actually escape. I do anticipate, however, a long timeout during the next Cougar game.

The Verdict

After a bit of discussion, Tony has agreed that we will go to the park, and we will likely camp, but we will not go next weekend and we will not take the A-baby. If this actually happens, this compromise of sorts will likely turn out to be better than the original proposal. As much as I have been craving a weekend where we did ANYTHING besides mow the lawn, run errands, clean the house, do grocery shopping (in other words, what we do almost every weekend), I have been craving even more just a wee break from the wee one. I love Afton to death (she now says "belee" when I feed her broccoli and when I remind her to use a "soft touch" with the mirror in my room she just kisses her image), but I have had one 24-hour break from her in the past 17 months, so a little time away might be... healthy?

And, then again, our one family hike started out with Afton like this....

And after 10 minutes, we were walking like this....

On the way down, we were doing this. ...

very, very slowly... At one point Tony told Afton it's a good thing we weren't pioneers crossing the plains -- Brother Brigham would have left her aside because she was holding everything up... But she loved throwing rocks in the stream by the waterfall :). We'll nab Tony on a camping trip one of these days.

America's Best Idea

So is everyone watching the new Ken Burns documentary on PBS about the National Parks this week? I'd been waiting and waiting to see it. Then again, I can be a history junky at times and I have always been a child of the American West.

The national parks have been a topic of discussion in our house for years now. About a year after we got married, we decided to become full-fledged adults and open an IRA. We picked a target retirement date type of fund, and initially Tony wanted the one that had us retiring in 2050-something -- in our 70s! Our subsequent exchange went something like this:

Me: Are you on crack!?! I'm not sitting at a desk at 75!

Tony: But if I don't work, what will I do?

Me: I'm retiring in my 60s, getting a Winebago, and hitting all the national parks with the grandkids.

Needless to say, Tony didn't think that being cooped up in the confined space of an RV with his unborn grandchildren was his idea of retirement--even if the national parks were involved.

Our recent national parks discussion has centered on a trip I wanted to take over Columbus Day weekend to a park a few hours south of us.

When we found out that we couldn't get Tony's firm's time share condo (meaning, a place to stay for a really low cost), we figured getting a hotel would be more than we wanted to spend and called the trip off. That is, called it off until a friend offered to loan us camping equipment.

When I called him to share the "good" news, I used all my powers of persuasion. "We could camp! It would inexpensive. We could be one with nature -- We could be part of America's Best Idea..." Tony's only response: "America's best idea was the remote control."

So, help me out here. It's time for a poll. Camping with kids isn't the end of the world, right? It could even be, gasp, fun, correct? Just let Tony know. :)

Blue Ribbon Event

Today was the first day of the State Fair. Tony played hooky from work for a couple hours, and we took the Afton-ator out for some 90-degree fun. We did all the obligatory fair stuff...

We caught the chickens...

and the pigs...


and the goats...


(sorry the pictures are slightly blurry -- between Afton and the animals I had too many moving objects, and admittedly, I'm not the best photographer.)

And Afton's beloved cows. The dairy cows were mooing, and Afton bellowed right back. (Sadly I tried to type that word as "bellered," which evidently doesn't pass the spell check.)

We won't tell Afton's grandpa G (who raised sheep as a kid) that all she did in the sheep barn was run around yelling "moo! moooooo!"

The A-baby took in some fine produce.

Then she hit the rides.

We walked by the cotton candy cart. (Afton will need to wait until next year to get her sugar rush.)

But we did eat some other (overpriced) food (peach-strawberry smoothie).

Afton's favorite moment was when we discovered these paintings...

And as Afton says to us each morning, to her babysitter each afternoon, to any movie that gets turned off, to the water as it goes down the drain, and to the random people who wait at the bus stop by our house, "Bye!" "Bye!" "Bye-bye!" "Bye!" "Bye!" "Bye!" "Bye-bye!" "Bye!" "Bye!" "Bye!" "Bye!"