Well, the Droubay Halloween Extravaganza weekend was a BLAST. We had so much fun. We got things off to a good start on Friday afternoon / evening by choosing which pumpkins we were going to carve. Very important pumpkin backstory: A few weekends ago, the kids and I picked all 17 of our pumpkins and I let them decide where to place them out front. (Some were even placed out back and in window wells). I intervened only once when Carson plopped one down right in front of the garbage can. I explained to him that it would be inevitably smooshed if we left it there. He decided to move it. Well, anyway, here we are gathering the pumpkins to take out back and clean out by the chickens.
Here is Carson bringing his pumpkin of choice.
He's with the band, by the way.
So anyway, the chickens were very grateful for their pumpkin snack.
Poor Rhett didn't get a turn cleaning out a pumpkin,
but he did manage to find ways to enjoy himself.
He's such a happy little stinker!
Here is Annie "looking to see if there was any more guts."
Kinda blocking the natural light there, my-dear!
So after we cleaned out the pumpkins, we went to Papa Murphy's (we've made our peace since the Rhett hand-burning episode), and bought a pumpkin-shaped pizza and baked it. We watched Pirates of the Carribean. We had to rewind several times so Annie and Carson could laugh hysterically at the funny faces that Captain Jack Sparrow makes.
Here they are with their pizza
making their "scariest faces"
After we were done eating, we carved the pumpkins. Annie did hers all by herself and Ryan helped Carson.
Here is Annie making her "concentration face"
Carson and Dad carving away
After Carson carved his final (of three) pumpkins,
he declared proudly, "hey, this one is a puzzle."
Here is his puzzle.
The final product
The final product in the dark
More jack-o-lantern action
On Saturday, which is when our town (don't know about the rest of the state) celebrated Halloween, we had pumpkin pancakes for breakfast. Now, when I say pumpkin pancakes, I don't mean with pumpkin IN them (which is borderline healthy). I mean regular pancakes dyed orange with butter triangles for eyes and a syrup smile. I pulled out ALL the stops on these pancakes, let me tell you. Food coloring = WOW!
Here is one of Annie's pumpkin pancakes
Here is Rhett, eagerly anticipating his next pancake
After a day inside (weather was not good) watching more Halloween-y movies and finishing Annie's costume, we were ready for our Trunk-or-Treat. I present Glenda, the good witch of the North from the Wizard of Oz, the S.W.A.T. police officer, and the Spider. Yes, the spider. The spider was not very happy about this photo shoot, but o-well.
Annie, Carson, & Rhett
A happy Spider moment
The trunk-or treating was VERY wet.
I was just fine with my perch under our Explorer's hatch.
After the Trunk or Treat, we visited the great grandparents and trick-or-treated to two houses on our street. Then we went home and ate lots and lots of candy. It was very simple, boring, and just fine with us! We hope you had a great evening too!
Here we are, for the first professional FAMILY PICTURE ever! Hard to believe, but nope, haven't done it yet! Well, to be correct, we haven't done a professional family picture since we've had kids.
One of my College BFFs took these for us. She always does such a great job, and we always manage to have a blast together. This time, we decided to literally CLING to the side of the mountain for some of the shots. Honestly, to look at the slope, it didn't seem that treacherous, and we all made it up and down just fine. Probably would've been easier if I and Annie hadn't been wearing heels, but I think you'll all agree with me that sometimes you must sacrifice for fashion. Well, at any rate, it was a good time. We'll start the pictures out with a classic: this is Ryan "lifting" Carson down the mountainside:
The funny thing is that later during the shoot, Annie and I were climbing up a slight slope of a hillside (still in our heels, of course), when Annie pulled against me to balance herself. I was not particularly balanced myself at the moment, and well, let's just say we had a nice roll down the hillside. It ruled. Well, except for the part that it totally messed up my hair, gave us both splinters and chunder all over our clothes. Oh, yah, and then there was the part where I totally chewed her out for pulling me down. It was not a shining Mom moment, nor was it likely graceful. I did have some nasty bruises up my back the next day. We do what we must to have our feet look their best (even if they don't show in all the pictures. . .) So here's one of my feet so it all seems worthwhile:
See how the flip flops enhance the ensemble? I thought so as well.
Please allow me to indulge my
"I think my daughter is the most adorable thing on the planet" mommy pride
with "a few" selections:
Here are my boys:
This picture does NOT do the precariousness of their situation justice.
They are within mere inches from their deaths by falling.
My not-so-little-anymore Carsie.
He surprised us by face-planting on the sidewalk the evening before
on our way home from the Tooele Homecoming game.
Go Buffs! (yeahhhhhhh, not so much)
The most gigantic, yet tiniest and sweetest chunk of a baby ever.
Don't you just want to eat those cheeks?
The following are Exhibits 1 through 4
that the hubby and I actually like and love each other.
Yummy!
This one was so we could gross out the kids later.
I'd like you to meet Mittens. No, Mittens is not the new cat or the new stuffed toy. Mittens is my son. You may know him as Rhett. Looking back, "Oven Mitt" might've been a more appropriate nickname, but . . . well, read on:
So, we were preparing for our Friday night ritual: pizza and a movie. We either make our own or buy one, but this particular Friday, we decided to cook a Papa Murphy's pizza. There's just something about salami on a pizza. But I'm getting off-topic. . . Ryan was taking the pizza out of the oven, and for those of you who have baked the Papa Murphy pizza, you know that the little tray it comes on (whilst conveniently garbage-friendly) can be less than structurally sound when it comes to one-handed pizza extraction from the oven. Well, Ryan was so concerned about the pizza balancing act (and rightly so, as those of you who know me well can imagine the lecture and extra cleaning required should he spill) when OH NO!! The cheese and toppings began to slide off the pizza! I'm sure it felt like slow-motion to poor Ryan as he tried to avoid the pizza fumble; to no avail.
It was during the chaos of this 450-degree fiasco that Rhett, dear Rhett, who has been slowly (and I mean SLOWLY) learning to walk, decided to use the open oven door as an aid to pull himself to a standing position. He placed both of his hands on the inside of the door, rendering himself victim to 2nd degree burns.
I felt so horrible (but not as badly as Ryan--he felt very guilty) listening to his howls and uncontrollable sobs. This is an otherwise happy and bubbly little baby who cries for three reasons and three reasons only: if Carson is bugging/torturing him, if he is really hungry, or if he is really really tired. And he he will stop immediately upon soothing or provision of relief. There was NO soothing or relief this night. He just would not stop wailing. I felt horrible. It was difficult to even examine his hands because he had the fists so tightly clenched and I didn't dare pry them apart using his burned fingertips for leverage! Anyway. Our cute little neighbor had severely burned herself a couple of years previously and her parents had found out a day later that her burn was worse than they initially thought, so I decided it was better to have him looked at (and me laughed at for being paranoid) than to not treat it if it was really bad.
They examined it and showed me what to do with it and said they'd follow up at his 15-month appointment the following Monday. His actual pediatrician examined it that Monday and sent us to the Burn Unit up at the University of Utah Hospital. I was amazed at the friendliness and professionalism of the staff up there. It was a very minor burn compared to what they deal with on a daily basis, but they were very nice to us, patient with me and my million questions, and so good with him. They were very helpful and showed me exactly what to do. Exactly what to do included the following (once a day after preparing the necessary supplies in advance): clean hands, each burn on each finger (one finger at a time) got medicine, followed by a cling-free gauze pad, followed by sticky wrap around each finger and the wrist so he hopefully couldn't pull them off. Then, each finger and the hand needed gauze wrap. Finally, each finger and then the hand got their own "sockie stretchie wrap." "Sockie stretchie wrap" is both a new noun and verb for me and is this really cool wrapping that stretches and is cut to size for each finger and the hand and wrist. Lastly, if we were to be going somewhere public and potentially dirty, a sock was to be placed over each hand. Hence, "mittens."
Mittens
Here he is modeling Sockie Stretchie Wrap
The worst part of the first Burn Unit appointment was the de-breeding (or popping) of the blisters. I watched one, and turned away for the others. Rhett made his objections known, of course, to this whole process. And I'd like to add that his daily bandaging while confusing enough considering its many components, was made a tad more difficult by (a) his general dislike for the whole experience, (b) his knowledge that squirming is most effective when one wants to outwit even a grownup who only has the use of one of her arms and there are important supplies that must be protected laying all around you, and (c) the fact that he figured out mid-week that with the use of stealth and the proper skills, he could actually remove about 65% of the bandaging. So, it was an interesting week.
Here are the blisters.
There was one on each knuckle and although it is difficult to tell,
they were as big around as each finger.
This hand got the less-severe of the action
This hand got more of the action.
The doctors were mostly concerned about the blisters that crossed the joint line
(flexibility after healing issues).
We have daily stretches to do that will combat the tightening of the skin.
He has another follow-up appointment later in October and then I think we'll be done with this chapter of "Droubay Family Medical Emergencies." The following are some additional pictures:
This is the day before the Burn Unit Blister-Popping adventure.
Note his cheery disposition.
Same day.
He was so funny to watch as he would rub his palms together.
It must have felt very strange to him.
Here he is sucking his thumb because the bandage and socks were off.
He missed his thumb.
Old friendships are hard to break, however.
They have since been reunited with no end in sight.
Oh, how we love Fantasy Football here at the Droubay house! I've said it before and I'll reiterate in case any of you are wondering how I really feel about it:
Fantasy Football is a GREAT way to bond with a sports-lovin' spouse, especially if you are willing to concede to some football time in your schedule. But the payoff can be HUGE: finding something else you can enjoy doing together rather than fight about or be irritated by! I definitely recommend it.
Ryan and I are in a league with our friends and some of their family members. As usual, we gathered for some fun-filled drafting action and yummy eats. There's nothing like a slightly charred hot dog (or two), some guacamole, and some tasty chewy delicious brownies to usher in the PIGskin season! And PIG OUT we did! After we drafted, Derrick made predictions (based on picks and sheer sports savvy) for how the season would end and I'm going to post them here and we'll see how right he is. He'd better NOT be right, though, because I expect to come in closer to the top than 7 out of 10, thank you very much.
Derrick's Prediction:
1. Derrick (of course)
2. John
3. Tyson
4. Steve
5. Ryan
6. Jessica
7. Sarah
8. Art
9. Amber
10. Matt
So, tune in this Fall to see how Team Sarah does! Go Fight Win!
Here are my kiddos ready for school this morning. Both of them attend different schools BUT start at the same time, so you can imagine the stress. . . However, we did GREAT. Annie is in her second week of school so with them lining up outside, there is a little cushion of time for me to get her there and then Carson up to his school. I'm just still reeling that they are this old!
Here was Annie last week on her first day of school. Sorry about the date imprint--I'm borrowing a camera (because of COURSE, mine broke right before my CT trip) and haven't figured out how to take the incorrect date off much less put the correct date on! Anyway, Annie was pretty excited for 1st grade. She has liked school in the past, but not loved it. I don't really know why. It's not the academics because she does really really well. In fact, she's already capable of reading younger chapter books and is, according to her Kindergarten teacher, "off the charts" with that. Perhaps it's the whole "listen, obey the rules, respect others" aspect. ahem. Anyway, she LOVES 1st grade. Love love loves 1st grade. She is so excited about eating lunch at school, about lining up outside, about reading, about a new classroom, a new teacher, new friends, the whole kit and caboodle. And I couldn't be happier for her. Again, it's just difficult for me to have her gone ALL DAY LONG! I really miss her and can't believe that this is how it will be from now on. I'll get over it I'm sure, but (sniff sniff) she's my little Annie, ya know?
Now, onto the other one. . . . Carson started his preschool class today. He was very very excited. He walked in the door, threw his backpack up on a counter and ran over to the cars. SO Carson! I had to explain that he needed to find out where to HANG UP his backpack and that he needed to listen to his teacher, etc. etc. I wasn't at all surprised when he had a big grin on his face when I left and a somewhat chagrined "I don't want to go yet" pout on his face when I picked him up 2 1/2 hours later! We'll have a lot to learn this year as his handout with "Carson" on it that was supposed to be traced and practiced had green marker all over it, no letters of any kind, and was dog-eared and ripped on all four sides. Wish us (and the teacher) luck!
I wonder if they would have still accepted our application had they seen this photo first!
Two funny and precious conversations from last night:
I was tucking Carson into bed and laying beside him. He was looking at me and looked so cute and innocent. And sweet. Me: I'm such a lucky mom to have such a special boy! Carson: (After a pause and whispered) And I'm a lucky boy.
Whilst watching old home movies with Annie, my brother Abe kept standing in front of the camera and whispering trash-talk about his perfect younger sister Sarah on the video. Annie was giggling about it and kept asking me to rewind them. And then later, she looked up at me and said, "that Abe needs to get himself some manners." Ha ha ha ha ha. Priceless.
Sorry there are no pictures, but I gotta journal this trip!
So a few weeks ago, my dad and I were lamenting on the phone about how much I miss Connecticut, and how much I can't wait for next summer to visit. We'd been talking about my driving instead of flying, for several reasons. The main reason is that I really want to provide adventurous experiences for my kids. We used to drive to Texas every year to see my dad's family, and I have such fun memories of doing that. Granted, the road between Connecticut and Texas is markedly shorter than the one stretching east to Connecticut from our front door. However, we were discussing it. My dad had recently returned from his own recent road trip to Texas to see his family, participate in a family reunion, try out that new back of his (he's been in constant pain for YEARS and just had surgery a few months ago), and have some serious bonding time with his beloved Sport Track. Well, he said to me, "what if I drove out and picked you guys up, drove back here?"
silence (well, a few days of serious pros/cons list-making and mental shenanigans on my part)
"Let's do it!"
So, on Monday morning at about 5:30 AM, the Sport Track began its trip East. In the front were a "what did I sign myself up for" Grandpa, a "I must be crazy" Mom and two fully-charged cell phones. In the back were the three bounciest, most excited and wide-eyed kiddos ever.
It took us two full days of driving, one overnight motel stay somewhere just west of Des Moines, Iowa, and about 12 diet Dr. Peppers and as many Cokes, but we made it! We rolled up to the awaiting beach house and its resident sleepy-eyed, bed-headed Grandma at about 4 AM on Wednesday. What follows are the highlights (in Top Ten format) of our trip. There were many, and I've had to be brutal in selecting the list:
10. Are we there yet? I had to start with a classic. No road trip is complete without this much uttered phrase and ours was no different. However, we didn't hear it the first day. Just every 10 minutes on day two. The question took a few different forms: Are we getting closer? Yes. Will we be there soon? Depends on your frame of reference. Soon to me? yep. Soon to them? probably not as soon as they'd like, ya know? The nice thing was that they weren't whiny about it. They actually traveled really really well. I credit a healthy respect for The Road Trip and the casual "It'll be fine" attitude on the part of both adults as well as the portable DVD player and bag-o-snacks. I'm really quite proud of them. But no, we weren't there yet.
9. The Tunnel. Shortly after our departure (in the Evanston, Wyoming vicinity) we had the luxury of traveling through a tunnel. It was somewhat brief, but being a rare treat on a road trip, it must not be trivialized. It was both enjoyed and appreciated. Once through, the request was submitted for another go. Sadly, it was refused. "We'll catch it on the way home," I offered to the disappointed children. I omitted the part where they'll probably be asleep from my assurance.
8. Bargaining. You know the five stages of grief? Denial, bargaining, anger, depression, and acceptance? Well, we dealt with some of them on this trip. I'd like for just a paragraph, to focus on one: bargaining. We had been in the car about a third of the whole trip. Like I mentioned before, there was hardly any complaining on day one (other than "Rhett is kicking me" or "I'm foostee" which is Carsonese for "I'm thirsty" and I don't really call that complaining). So I wasn't too surprised when after the novelty of The Road Trip began to wear off a little, Carson requested that we go home. "I want to go home." This (as you will later read) mostly had to do with pooping. He needed to go, but doesn't like the automatic flushing toilets. So, according to his logic, we could go home, he could poop, and we could drive back again to where we currently were (Eastern Nebraska). Piece of cake, ya? A few minutes passed and he asked "Hey Papa Foof, wanna see my chickens? Wanna go feed my chickens?" He'd figured out Papa Foof's money and was going for the gold. Great idea, but it didn't quite work. I think he'll be a great negotiator someday.
7. My midnight snack. While we're sort of on the subject of poo, I'll share a little funny. We were driving late late late on Tuesday through the dark rainy mountains of Pennsylvania. It was my turn to drive so when we stopped for gas, I grabbed a fresh diet Pepsi fountain drink(no diet Dr Pepper on tap anywhere here-dang it) and a nice little bag of Reese's Pieces to go. We were barreling down the highway when my father informed me that he calls them Reese's Feces. Nice. But funny enough to make my top ten.
6. The Bates Motel. Okay, so that's not really where we stayed, but to Carson, might as well have been. The hour or two preceding the stop was filled with questions about when we were going to go to the hotel. So they were pretty excited and relieved that we were finally there. It was a small motel, and good enough for 5 to 6 hours of sleep, but I wasn't in love with it either. But, hopeful for rest and a nice potty stop, Carson grabbed his beloved pillow and bounced happily across the parking lot, through the door, and down the hallway. As soon as we walked through the door, saw the two queen beds, saw my pillow and Annie and Rhett on bed #2, looked at Papa Foof and did the math, he looked back and forth a few times, up at me, and said, "I don't like this place. " He then paced slowly around the room muttering to himself, "I don't like this place." Poor Papa Foof. Or lucky Papa Foof, depending on how you look at it. This leads me to number 5.
5. Sleeping Family Style. Because we needed our rest, my "what Mom say goes" policy was tossed out the window in favor of the new temporary travel policy which states "I'd rather my dad and I get some sleep so we don't die at the wheel tomorrow." So I had Rhett between me and Annie, Carson at our feet, and Papa Foof stretched out comfortably on his queen-bed-for-one. The four of us tossed and turned (and Rhett had to be placed back down on his tummy about 35 times once he figured that the picture above the bed wasn't super-glued to the wall) for what seemed an eternity but was probably no more than a half hour. Then we were out.
4. Arby's: The Grasshopper and the Snake. This was possibly my least favorite moment on the trip. We were trying to outrun a thunderstorm and make good time, but the natives were getting a little restless, so rather than grab dinner on-the-go, we decided to let them out of the car and eat inside the only food place available: Arby's. I'm not knocking Arby's, it's just not the easiest fast food for kids. So, I was getting drinks and holding Rhett and asked my dad to take Annie and Carson and find a table. I was on the other side of the partition when I heard wild laughter and saw my father's stern face. Carson was hopping up and down on the chairs and Annie was slithering through the area between the tables and the benches. We both later agreed that they needed to blow off some steam, but it didn't necessarily need to be an Oscar-worthy performance. They had the attention of every person in that entire place. We were a little embarrassed to say the least (even though I think both my kids are highly entertaining, I don't want perfect strangers thinking for even a moment that I normally allow such antics in public or don't discipline my kids). And then for the next hour, I was overcome with guilt about chewing them out and being impatient with them (all for the sake of defending my competent parent status) when they really had been so good all day. sigh.
3. Oatmeals. Carson was absolutely delighted, to say the least, by the sight of hundreds of windmills dotting the landscape from Wyoming as far east as Ohio (I think). The first time he shrieked "LOOK AT THE OATMEALS!!!!" and pointed furiously out the window, I laughed. I don't know where he got "oatmeals" from, but that's what he continued to call them even after I pronounced "windmill" for him over and over. It's cute I guess. It was so funny. He would point them out (sometimes they were really far off in the distance) and he'd ask: Will we pass by those? His follow up question was so mature, so well spoken. Yet he called them "oatmeals." A couple of times we got to see them really close. They are huge. Pretty cool.
2. New York City. I won't give it top status, because as I mentioned before, the experiences make the journey, but I can't deny the importance of the destination. Since I was a little girl riding in the car to and from Texas or Utah or wherever, and even more as a college student flying into La Guardia after every semester of college or grad school, there is nothing quite like the lights of The City when you are coming home. I know my parents' house is another 40 minutes past NYC, but for me, it has always signified that I'm finally home. It's minutes from the Welcome to Connecticut sign, but it thrills me every time. I woke Annie and Carson up to see it because when we head back, it will be light and I didn't want them to miss that sight. We crossed the GW bridge (they've never been on a bridge like that) and they were in awe. Annie looked out her window and asked, "is that where Uncle Abe and Aunt Kate live?" (the whole city). Yes, they live over there! Later, when I asked what her favorite part of the trip was, she said, "New York City." I absolutely agree! Carson, no surprise here, said, "the oatmeals!" Rhett just sucked his thumb and smiled.
1.Urination On-the-Go. This is inevitably a part of any lengthy road trip. Especially when said lengthy road trip involves the diapered or recently potty-trained. Our potty tales began in the mountains of Wyoming, when Carson suddenly "had to pee." The dynamic wiggling of his legs indicated it was pretty imminent. Luckily, there was a scenic area pull-out in the median of the highway. Unfortunately for those of us (me) standing by to guard against "peeping" and the youngster being clipped by a passing vehicle, there was A LOT of wind. This turned out to be most fortunate, however, for the 3-year-old who now thinks he's got great game when it comes to range. I must say, it was pretty impressive. The potty tales continued a few hours later when he indicated he had to up the ante and go number two (heck, I'm just going to say it: he had to poo). I told him we'd stop in a minute, could he hold it? To which he replied, "No! I want to go home to poop!" I explained to him that my option would bring him the most speedy relief and that going back home just wasn't practical, and he had it all figured out: "I know! How about we drive home, I'll go potty, and then we can drive back here!" If only it worked that way. . .
We're still not done: Later, we found ourselves in Nebraska, great state of endless cornfields. Carson once again announced that he needed to go. Now. There was a rest area about 10 miles away and I asked him if he could wait. Sure enough. We pulled over, unbuckled him, and I stood there holding out my hand for him to hold and walk toward the building when to my shock and horror, he (in perfect nightmare slow-motion) ran over to the middle of the grassy area and in front of everyone, dropped trou right there, smack dab in the middle of Nebraska. Classic. If his little cheeks weren't so cute, I might have been traumatized. But fortunately, it was there in that very spot, the slight humor of the situation inspired me to take notes so that I could provide this very top ten.
Our fourth and final urination dictation involves this son once more. And how he duped not only his somewhat intelligent mother, but also his grandfather, who once prided himself on being able to solve any mystery, outwit any would-be sneakster. So there we were enjoying a calm stretch of quiet road: Rhett was sleeping, Annie was reading, and Carson was playing with his cars. One of them fell down, and because we couldn't possibly stop every five seconds, I told him to wait a few minutes and I would lean over the seat and see if I could find it. A few minutes passed and I sort of forgot about the car. " I HAVE TO PEE!" he exclaimed, accompanied by the wiggling and bouncing tell-tale signs of approaching urge. So we pulled over as best we could and I helped him out of his seat and got him ready. And waited. And waited. And waited. "I don't have to go anymow." "Are you SURE?" I questioned with that tone that suggests the rest of the sentence. . . ('cause we're not stopping again!) He was sure and we turned so he could climb back up into his chair. "Wait! Let me get my car." My dad started laughing. "We've been duped," he chuckled. Carson never did have to pee. He just wanted us to stop so he could retrieve his beloved toy. He's only 3.
Well, there you have it. The joys of vehicular travel with the Droubay children. Stay tuned, there will be more from this trip! We miss everyone!!!!
