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Posts Tagged ‘CV Oh Niner!’

The highlight of our cabin vacations for Bill the last two years, has been picking out the crappiest t-shirts he can find for himself and his son to sport. A father/son bonding of stupidity of sorts. The first year he did it they purchased an awesome shirt entitled “Bass Attack” wherein a giant bass was mid-jump, gills flared, mouth unhinged and about to eat a giant frog. I sort of liked that one.

Last year he went for the more subtle wolf shirt. He was looking for the spectacularly kitschy one where three disembodied wolf heads are howling at the moon but the one pictured below was the closest he could find that came in a men’s large and a 2T. As you can see, it’s somewhere further from “That must be a joke” and closer to “Wow, that guy really likes wolves…” followed by a giant eyeroll.

Bill sometimes likes to surprise me with personalized desktop wallpaper to brighten my day so imagine my joy when I woke up to find this staring back at me this morning…

And if you’re wondering, yes I suffered through the Twilight books and yes I made Bill watch both movies that are out. Am a terrible wife. Terribly AWESOME.

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206

Keaton, my son. You spent the majority of this month trying your best to kill me. Don’t deny it, I’m onto you and your toddler boyhood wiles. Some months you do a little of this, a  little of that. You might spend one week being mischievous, one week being cuddly sweet, the next a little whiny- you get the picture. Not this month- HooooooooNoooooooo. This month you spent every waking minute, Testing. Our actions, our reactions, and above all else, our patience.

You do something firmly under the Naughty category once. See our reaction, then take careful note of the actions we take to prevent you from repeating the act, then you go ahead and do it again- no matter if you have to scale a gate or sneak past us to commit the crime again. You must be CERTAIN that we will react the same the next time. And we do. “But will we a third time?”,  you ask yourself and wash, rinse, repeat the whole thing 702 more times or however long it takes for you to dissolve into angry tears when we won’t let you, say, climb up on the coffee table and perform death-defying jumps or put mama’s hair dryer in the running sink water.203

We love you my boy but we are so tired of not being able to turn our backs on you long enough to shove a bite of dinner in our mouths or, you know, pee without having to preform contortionist feats by craning our necks out the bathroom door while shouting KEATON! NO! STOP! and oh-for-the-love-of-christ I have just peed on my own damn foot. Again.

Your range and scope of disaster continues to amaze your father and I. Take, for instance, the case of the Mangled Boutonniere. After your dad foolishly submitted to the likes of me in a legal ceremony, I took the flowers that hung from his lapel that day and dried them as a symbol of his brittle new existence. Just kidding! I used to just really like pressing and drying flowers. Anyway it has rested, along with my wedding bouquet, atop a 6 foot tall glass cabinet in our dining/living room that I (OH GOD DON’T READ THIS MOM! YOUR HEAD WILL EXPLODE!) never ever even dust. (Someone please call and check on mom.) Then one day a silence so deafening fell over the house I just knew you were up to no good, and there you were- hiding on the far side of our bed, boutonniere in hand, plucked of all it’s petals which lay crushed on the floor. You looked up at me with your you-can’t-be-mad-at-me-look!-I-smile-just-like-you-do-when-you’re-being-a-shit smile and I was do damn confused as to how the hell you got the thing that I just kept asking you how you did it. You know how evil super-villains always tell the secrets of their brilliant schemes after they have been caught? I guess it doesn’t quite work out so well with toddlers- every time I asked, you just said “Fwoot shnack!” “Pwetzle!” What does that even mean, son? A clue? Oh. Yeah. You’re hungry.201

The best though, was when we stayed over at Grammy’s house while our power was out because my mother has more damn nick-nacks and doo-hickeys and who-has than should ever be legal for one flippin’ household and at least 48.7% of them are smack dab at toddler eye level. Like “Oh, look at this lovely bowl of potpourri Grammy set out for me to snack on”, and “Here is my friend The Wicker Duck which I shall now smash and bang against, hmm… let me see…the leg of this shiny baby grand piano!”. Your crowning moment was when you somehow sneaked into grammy’s vacuum-cleaner-lined-you-are-only-allowed-in-this-room-at-Christmas-time living room, saw the $600 antique porcelain baby doll laying ever so pristinely in a vintage perambulator (oh my god I love saying that word. Best word ever invented.) and you walked into the kitchen with the doll flung over your shoulder while not-so-gently patting it on the back and shouting “BABY! BABY!” with a big ol’ grin smeared across your face. I swear to you it took 7 defibrillators to bring me back to life. These are the sorts of acts that will get us Gunters cut out of the will. NO NO, son.207

So these little vignettes are quite honestly how most of our days go. We get out to parks and on long walks with the hopes that you just need more exercise, but no. You just really like getting into shit, no matter how ragged we try to run you.

Language wise you have really started to string words together. Your favorite phrases currently are “I see you!” “I get it!” “Come on!” “I commin!'” and “I do it!”. You’ll notice the exclamation points on the ends of all these phrases. That’s because you yell them all at the top of your lungs. Your voice only seems to register one volume and that is Really Frapping Loud. Speaking of loud, that is just the volume you yell out your favorite word of all, Trucky! Except you used to pronounce it Twucky, and somehow in the last month you started pronouncing all your t’s as f’s. So we’re out in the driveway and you shout “FUCKY! FUCKY!” and I have to shout like an idiot, “YES, KEATON. T-T-T-TRUCKY. TRUCKY.”, every time because while my family finds it absolutely hilarious when small children swear, I’ve found that the general public doesn’t share our sense of humor.

You are perfecting a monster truck voice that is going to make your father very proud one day. If daddy could pick any job on earth, he would pick Voice Over Guy, so he could yell at you from the TV: “MONSTER TRUCK MADNESS! KID’S TICKETS JUST  5 BUUUUUCCCCCKKKKKSSSSSS”. Now when you see a big vehicle you like to announce it in your monster truck voice and I have to admit, you’d have a future in it if you could only learn to pronounce truck correctly. Otherwise you’ll never get past the censors.205

You say “Gooze me!” after you burp or toot and follow it up with “Swamp baby!” So cute.

Meal times are so god awfully messy with you, child. Everything must be smushed or mushed with your fingers and then put on a spoon. You must have a spoon for every. single. meal. And if I don’t have the foresight to place one on your tray because I have served you pizza, which you do not need a spoon for, you simply shout “POOOOOONNNN!” over and over again until the windows burst and the walls cave in and I just give you a damn spoon to shush your mouth and you immediately transform from angry and indignant with a serene, polite “Dank EWE!”. OMFG IT’S JUST A SPOON, BOY. I think I’m going to put one on a string around your neck. It may be the only way you are ever truly happy.204

Music continues to be one of your favorite things. You get the biggest smile when we put in Wiggleworms or Jim Gill CDs but your favorite is still Adele- you hum and sing along with Daydreamer and I get all mama-love-choked-up because shut up you would too if you were subjected to such ridiculous baby cuteness.

As far as your sleep routine goes all I have to say is I LOVE YOU, YOU ARE THE BEST SON A MOTHER COULD ASK FOR. During vacation our schedule got totally out of wack. We kept you up until between 8 and 9:30 most nights, then you would sleep until between 8 and 9 in the morning except for that one day you slept until almost 10 AM (10 AM!!). Your naps were all over the board because of trips into towns and such so some days we’d put you down around 1ish and others not until 4, and you took it all in stride. You were an amazing little trooper and though we have you back on a consistent schedule you are still sleeping in to somewhere around 8 every day and this is the sort of thing mother’s dream of Keaton, so THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU. 202

The cogs and gears in that head of yours are truly moving at a quicker pace and we can see your independent streak starting to take shape. I had a hunch (being your mama and all) that you would grow to be an amazingly curious and cunning little person but you still amaze your dad and I every day. And though it’s definitely a challenge to keep up with your craftiness, you make up for everything when you wrap your chubby little arms around our knees or press your cheek against ours. We love you.208

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Are you allowed to start a post title with parentheses? (HINT: I don’t care.) I do know that I’m not supposed to write words on a post that is supposed to be wordless so clearly I have a blatant disregard for blogging rules. So getting on with it, I was looking over my pictures from vacation and I found a surprising number of my sister’s husband, that’s right, the Deputy Chief Fire Idiot* making a number of super awesome faces. Jen. You really outdid yourself in that whole picking a husband thing.

(OK in his defense there’s a lot of funny pictures of all of us, but there is an unspoken rule among sisters that they not post unflattering pictures of one another (a rule Snoreface ignored when she posted pics of me passed out after I made out with my dog, but WHATEVER) so I was left with Bill who I have to live with, so just no, and Vince who I don’t feel is fair game since he hasn’t become betrothed to Snoreface yet (wink-wink, nudge, nudge). So yeah, DCFI took the fall. He has a good sense of humor though, dontcha, pal?!)

I have to shut up now (on account of that whole Wordless thing) (Rules! Regulations!) so take a look-see at The Many Faces of The Deputy Chief Fire Idiot.

DCFI1DCFI3DCFI5DCFI6DCFI7DCFI4

fin

* I can’t claim responsibility for giving him that name. Go ask his mother who gave it to him…(HINT: It was her.)

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I bet you’re beginning to think we didn’t do anything but drink on this little cabin getaway. Yes? I can see how this has come to pass as every damn sentence I’ve written regarding vacation contains the words “shot”, “vodka” “HAHA I’M DRUNK” or “Pass the box of wine, please!”. So to prove you all wrong, we did in fact wait to drink until six o’clock (PM!) one night because we spent the day at Itasca State Park, which is home to the headwaters of The Mississippi. This was my first time and wow was it a beautiful nature preserve.

People sometimes get the wrong impression of me when it comes to nature because if anyone even mentions the word Camp, I run and hide behind the nearest piece of large furniture I can find mumbling “Bed&Breakfast!” over and over again. This stems from my high school and early college years when way too many weekends were spent out on the St. Croix River, where I would wake up with sand in my bra and my mouth and some other places and I would be !SKIP THIS PART, MOM! hungover and sweaty and cranky and the fucking river geese would be honking right outside my tent like some sadistic alarm clock and then you’d have to wait for the one doochebag who drove the boat and was everybodys ticket off the stanky river to finish sleeping it off and/or puking up last nights libations and AAAAAHHHH*IHATECAMPING*AAAAAAHHHHHH. So yeah, me and camping are not best friends. We don’t even really like to look at one another.

But! (I think I have a point here somewhere…) I absolutely adore experiencing nature. Hiking through trail systems and rocky bluffs is one of my all time favorite pastimes. The wildflower plant life in Minnesota is so awesome to behold and our trees get so damn green and dense that in some places, at the right time of year, you would mistake it for a jungle. I’m pretty sure some mosquitoes even resemble tropical birds. I love seeing the different ecosystems that our state has to offer and in many places you can see multiple ones in any given square mile. I am an earthy girl, a nature girl, I’m just not a campy one. So going to Itasca was one of the highlights of the week for me, and I tell you, it was for little miss Rowan J, too.

Rowan has been going through some developmental growing pains as of late which is a nice way of saying SHE IS DRIVING US FREAKING NUTS, DO YOU KNOW OF A PRESCHOOL THAT BOARDS? SOMEONE? ANYONE? HALP! But the evil veil of early-onset teenageriness lifted from her during the first half hour or so and by the time we made it to the trail system there was neither a scowl nor any trace of attitude and there she was- Our bright, hilarious, awesome three year old.

Ok, so the giant sucker and the playground may have helped loosen her up.

OK, so the giant sucker and the playground may have had something to do with it.

Rowan girl dipping her net into the Mighty Mississippi.

Rowan girl dipping her net into the Mighty Mississippi.

Bill, dipping his second born into the mighty Mississippi.

Bill, dipping his second born into the Mighty Mississippi.

Keaton, Sir. Leading the charge accross the river.

Keaton, Sir. Leading the charge across the river.

Keaton did awesome in the ergo as long as I kept my ponytail away from his chubby little grasp.

Keaton did awesome in the ergo as long as I kept my ponytail away from his chubby little grasp.

We set him free at the end and he proceeded to give me 3.42 heart attacks by running down this steep (by toddler standards) hill a buttload of times.

We set him free at the end and he proceeded to give me 3.42 heart attacks by running down this steep hill a buttload of times at full throttle. Boys!?%$%

This post is brought to you by AT&T. More girls. More places.

This post is brought to you by AT&T. More cuteness. More places.

It was such an awesome day.

It was such an awesome day.

PS- Here’s a public service announcement from Mr. Branches:

GET OFF MY MOTHERFUCKIN' ROOTS, SHITHEADS! YOUR RADIOACTIVE FEET HAVE MADE ME GORW HUMAN PARTS!

"GET OFF MY MOTHERFUCKIN' ROOTS, SHITHEADS! YOUR RADIOACTIVE FEET HAVE DONE MADE ME GROW HUMAN PARTS!"

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I bet you’re beginning to think we didn’t do anything but drink on this little cabin getaway. Yes? I can see how this has come to pass as every damn sentence I’ve written regarding vacation contains the words “shot”, “vodka” “HAHA I’M DRUNK” or “Pass the box of wine, please!”. So to prove you all wrong, we did in fact wait to drink until six o’clock (PM!) one night because we spent the day at Itasca State Park, which is home to the headwaters of The Mississippi. This was my first time and wow was it a beautiful nature preserve.

People sometimes get the wrong impression of me when it comes to nature because if anyone even mentions the word Camp, I run and hide behind the nearest piece of large furniture I can find mumbling “Bed&Breakfast!” over and over again. This stems from my high school and early college years when way too many weekends were spent out on the St. Croix River, where I would wake up with sand in my bra and my mouth and some other places and I would be !SKIP THIS PART, MOM! hungover and sweaty and cranky and the fucking river geese would be honking right outside my tent like some sadistic alarm clock and then you’d have to wait for the one doochebag who drove the boat and was everybodys ticket off the stanky river to finish sleeping it off and/or puking up last nights libations and AAAAAHHHH*IHATECAMPING*AAAAAAHHHHHH. So yeah, me and camping are not best friends. We don’t even really like to look at one another.

But! (I think I have a point here somewhere…) I absolutely adore experiencing nature. Hiking through trail systems and rocky bluffs is one of my all time favorite pastimes. The wildflower plant life in Minnesota is so awesome to behold and our trees get so damn green and dense that in some places, at the right time of year, you would mistake it for a jungle. I’m pretty sure some mosquitoes even resemble tropical birds. I love seeing the different ecosystems that our state has to offer and in many places you can see multiple ones in any given square mile. I am an earthy girl, a nature girl, I’m just not a campy one. So going to Itasca was one of the highlights of the week for me, and I tell you, it was for little miss Rowan J, too.

Rowan has been going through some developmental growing pains as of late which is a nice way of saying SHE IS DRIVING US FREAKING NUTS, DO YOU KNOW OF A PRESCHOOL THAT BOARDS? SOMEONE? ANYONE? HALP! But the evil veil of early-onset teenageriness lifted from her during the first half hour or so and by the time we made it to the trail system there was neither a scowl nor any trace of attitude and there she was- Our bright, hilarious, awesome three year old.

Ok, so the giant sucker and the playground may have helped loosen her up.

OK, so the giant sucker and the playground may have had something to do with it.

Rowan girl dipping her net into the Mighty Mississippi.

Rowan girl dipping her net into the Mighty Mississippi.

Bill, dipping his second born into the mighty Mississippi.

Bill, dipping his second born into the Mighty Mississippi.

Keaton, Sir. Leading the charge accross the river.

Keaton, Sir. Leading the charge across the river.

Keaton did awesome in the ergo as long as I kept my ponytail away from his chubby little grasp.

Keaton did awesome in the ergo as long as I kept my ponytail away from his chubby little grasp.

We set him free at the end and he proceeded to give me 3.42 heart attacks by running down this steep (by toddler standards) hill a buttload of times.

We set him free at the end and he proceeded to give me 3.42 heart attacks by running down this steep hill a buttload of times at full throttle. Boys!?%$%

This post is brought to you by AT&T. More girls. More places.

This post is brought to you by AT&T. More cuteness. More places.

It was such an awesome day.

It was such an awesome day.

PS- Here’s a public service announcement from Mr. Branches:

GET OFF MY MOTHERFUCKIN' ROOTS, SHITHEADS! YOUR RADIOACTIVE FEET HAVE MADE ME GORW HUMAN PARTS!

"GET OFF MY MOTHERFUCKIN' ROOTS, SHITHEADS! YOUR RADIOACTIVE FEET HAVE DONE MADE ME GROW HUMAN PARTS!"

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Wow, I don’t even know where to begin. After the Great! Harrowing! Gunter Power Outage I sort of feel that Cabin Vacation ’09 was forever ago and I’m having trouble trying to figure out how to break down our trip into digestible (and readable!) segments. I suppose I should start at the beginning which looked like this:

Not pictured: The trailer that towed behind carrying even more crappity crap.

Not pictured: The trailer that towed behind carrying even more crappity crap.

I am one of those people who have a really hard time choosing what to bring and what to leave behind so I usually err on the side of Bringing Everything We Own. Plus some other stuff. Oh and that thing there, too. Even though we were packed in tight we had a comfortable enough ride up in which we were again reminded of how far we have come since last year when we had to endure little baby Keaton’s giant screamy screams for a majority of the ride. We were all excited to get up there, none more so than a certain three and a half year old who started asking Are we there yet? four minutes after we pulled out of the driveway.

We were a little nervous because the little buggers only napped for about 40 minutes of the three and a half hour drive but they were so distracted by all the New of the cabin that nobody crashed and burned or even got melty. The Mallinger’s and the four of us shared a cabin (named: The noisy cabin with all the dang kids) and my mom, my sister Emily, her daughter Madeline, Snoreface and her boyfriend Vince shared the cabin just up a little hill, behind ours, (named: The Upstairs Cabin).

The first night we spent getting acquainted with the layout of our cabin, finding a place for all The Crap, grilling up some brats and hotdogs and looking out at Fish Hook Lake. I will cut the suspense right now and let you know I did not hook any fish. I am NOT a fisherwoman, and not only that- no one would let me aboard their boat when they were going out to fish because I am one of those annoying a-holes who makes you feel bad once you catch a fish, as in “Look at her face! She’s now disfigured from that giant hole you put in her lip but she could still lead a happy life. What if she has babies she needs to feed! I’m pretty sure lady fish have nipples! Come on! Throw her back! I think I hear her babies crying!” I think I started this when my dad used to drag me out of bed for early fishing outings on our boat and found it rather effective. Now it’s just sort of habit.

So here we are, enjoying the first night, drinking relaxing after a long day in transit and excited over all the potential the week holds.

Soaking in the sun, which only made an appearence 2.4 days of CV Oh Niner.

Soaking in the sun, which only made an appearance 2.4 days of CV Oh Niner.

Jorie won the Find the most Giantest Dandelion contest.

Jorie won the Find the Most Giantest Dandelion contest.

Rowan and Ellie, jumping off the dock into the chigger infested sand.

Rowan and Ellie, jumping off the dock into the chigger infested sand.

Emmy relaxing after she rigorous scouted out the area for the threat of any teenage boys.

Emmy relaxing after she rigorously scouted out the area for the threat of any teenage boys.

Aw. PUKE.

Aw. PUKE.

Rowan refuses to pose for a family picture and I'm too lazy to phoyoshop her in so just use your imagination.

Rowan refuses to pose for a family picture and I'm too lazy to photoshop her in so just use your imagination. Picture a whirling dervish with blond ponytails.

Madeline and her little friend.

Madeline and her little friend.

I'll smile as long as I'm the only one in the picture. Add that squirmy toddler to the mix and I'm outa here.

I'll smile as long as I'm the only one in the picture. Add that squirmy toddler to the mix and I'm outa here.

Auntie Jen! Swing!

Auntie Jen! Swing!

Nigh-nigh first night.

Nigh-nigh first night.

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The wireless up here is spotty at best but I just had to break my internet silence to let you all know my mother, my God-fearing, I-shake-my-finger-at-you-naughty-kids-with-your-drinking-and-your-potty-mouths MOTHER took a shot.

A Jagger bomb, no less.

A Jagger bomb, no less.

Um, it's pretty safe to say she didn't like it.

Um, it's pretty safe to say she didn't like it.

We MAY have told her they kind of tasted like candy and they weren’t that bad. What can I say? We are LIARS.

Keaton on the other hand, really enjoyed his cranberry vodka. In style.

Keaton on the other hand, really enjoyed his cranberry vodka. In style.

Magical alcohol. Bridging the gap between generations.

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