Hands On

Here are pictures of our trip to the Children's Museum. The girls LOVE this place and we haven't visited since I was prego with Abram. So we were overdue. There are a lot of hands on activities that kids usually only dream of. Plus the kids love to be in the city. It's something we miss so much about La Jolla. A trip to the nearest city with all of its amenities (like museums, theater, zoos, etc...) is now 4 hours away from us. (This is where BIG FINN taunts us to come back to S.D. If only...)



There was a special exhibit called Jump to Japan. The kids were able to dress in kimonos, serve tea and rice cakes as well as create their own anime movies and ride on this catbus thing. I didn't really get the catbus, but Santi seemed to like it.


I love this picture of Abram(s). This aquarium was in the tiny tots section of the museum. He loved the fish so much I thought it might be fun to get an aquarium, and then I remembered that, however little, there's still maintenence involved. And I'm not doing that. Carpool, homework, dance class, swim practice, musicals, and diapers...I've my fill for a while.

Riding the Bull. Feeling the Flow.

Toreras are tough and that's NO BULL! There was a family festival going on right outside the museum and the girls couldn't resist trying their hand at bull riding. We are in Texas afterall. The kid-sized bull was awesome and I think they did pretty well for their first attempt. The only things missing were chaps and fringe. Although, I don't think we'll ever be that committed to Texas.

RETRACTION!

I unwittingly entered the world of political punditry and I've already been called out. An RNC representative (actually it was BIG FINN, but it sounds much better this way), phoned this morning and told me I made a mistake in my last post (Walker, Texas Ranger) regarding Presidential candidate John McCain and Chuck Norris. Turns out it was Presidential hopeful Mike Huckabee (Shauri's fav) who had Chuck appear behind him at a political rally. This got me thinking that in such a heated political climate, some offenses may have been made in my implication that it was lame to recruit a less than shining star like Chuck Norris to publicly back your campaign. Therefore, apologies all around: first) to the McCain campaign, I'm sorry that I implied you were lame enough to recruit a washed up actor to further your campaign; second) to the Huckabee camp, I'm sorry that you were lame enough to recruit a washed up actor to further your campaign; and last but not least) to Chuck Norris, I'm sorry you're lame and washed up.
So hopefully I've made ammends and everyone involved is satisfied and sees that I am just trying to report current events in a fair and balanced way. No spin zone. Peace.

Disclaimer: I'm sure that Chuck is a very nice man. And seeing as how he's posed in this picture with Old Glory, I hope my criticism of his acting doesn't make me unpatriotic. I can prove my patriotism without having to be wisked off to a secret locale to be detained indefinately.

Walker, Texas Ranger

In case you don't watch mediocre (at best) syndicated TV dramas on USA, there is a show called, Walker, Texas Ranger, featuring everyone's favorite action hero, Chuck Norris (who can also be seen on stage behind the Republican candidate for president, John McCain at political rallies which is a smart move, because Chuck's celebrity status is through the roof.) Honestly, I've never seen it and this post pretty much has no relevance to the show or Chuck whatsoever except for the coincidence that Abram is now walking and we live in Texas (and I thought I was funny). Actually, we live in Texaco (and that's a story for another time since this post is supposed to focus on our son's monumental accomplishment of walking).

Well, Abram didn't really show much interest in walking since he has two adoring sisters willing to carry him everywhere he wanted or didn't want. When he doesn't want their attention and smothering, it carries with it a look of cruel and unusual punishment. The poor boy has worn all sorts of dress up stuff including hair clips and glittery hair gel (proof below). I'm too tired to do anything about it anymore. I'm settling on the hope that it builds character and that when his wife asks, "Honey, does this look OK?" he can respond with an honest answer.

Back to the walking: about two weeks ago, he started taking a few steps at a time, which in hindsight is probably what I should've captured on video. But it was usually when I was alone and couldn't convince him to do it on camera. So with Marin's help, I am able to post a video of a few steps to show the doting grandparents. Although crawling is still his main form of transportation, he'll likely be turning that corner very soon. And I couldn't be happier. Seriously. Yesterday he crawled away and ate fries and a chicken nugget off the McDonald's floor at playgroup. Yah, he'll be getting sick any day now. Nice.

Get A CLUE!

For Family Home Evening on Monday, we tried something a little different. We played Clue Jr. and had a great time. It's a really cute version of the original and far more simple for little ones. "Who dunnit?" Someone had a piece of cake with a drink! How DARE they! You have to figure out who ate the cake, with which drink, and at what time. A mystery for the ages.
So we dressed up like our chosen characters (sort of). Bri was Col. Mustard, although he looks like a mix between Col. Sanders and Boss Hog (I told you he owned a cowboy hat). Plus the paper eyebrows and mustache are sure to make all ladies swoon. Marin was Mrs. White, sporting an apron with broom in tow. Santi was Miss Scarlet adorned in all sorts of jewelry, and I was Mrs. Peacock. I'm not sure who Abram was, he pretty much just grabbed at all the pieces and put them in his mouth. Seeing how this would dramatically hamper our game, we turned on a Baby Einstein DVD. He was satisfied. As it turns out, Miss Scarlet was the culprit. She ate the cake, with a swig of apple juice, at 4:00! Marin and Santi sort of simultaneously uncovered the dastardly plan. It would've topped off the evening perfectly if we had cake and juice for refreshments, but I didn't think that far ahead. Everyone settled for cookies. But if we do it again, it's more fun to go all out. Which is what I suggest everyone do if you're looking for a fun Family Home Evening...Get a CLUE! (don't worry, we ended with a prayer and all)

Moonlight Maddness

I had this splendid idea (which I stole from Bennions/Blalocks) to have a moonlight egg hunt with flashlights. It was risky but everyone seemed to be on board and pretty stoked about it. It was so big this year, that we went to the school park. It was a team effort, the kind of events I like best. Michelle pulled it off as a whole event though. She planned a potluck dinner and suggested a Lil' Egg Hunt for the wee ones at dusk. It was such a blast for the kids and however much they may deny it, the adults got a little carried away themselves. In attendance: Kleins, Chandlers, Moss, Lindseys, Smiths, Wheelers, Wolfleys, Pavias, Sullivans, and our new friends the Cantus and the Rubios - Ahh, thanks for making it fun.

Marin and Santi with gal pals Kaitlyn, Aly, Marisa, and Andrea.

The Lil' Egg Hunt was a perfect fit for the tiny tots. The big kids played on the playground while the toddlers secured and then compared their treasure. It was fun to see Abram finally figure out this whole eggs in the basket thing. Yet again, he was plenty pleased with one egg. Thanks to his buddy Abram (yes, two Abrams. pictured in the top right), he brought home two eggs. What a guy!
And just as the biggies got restless waiting for the little ones, lo and behold, out of nowhere, Jill pulled out a dozen eggs for an egg toss. Blake and Nakona on top right were the victors, while the girls preferred defeat over breaking their eggs. From the pictures you can see that all involved didn't seem to mind the mess so much. I hope the school can't trace it to us. Yikes!
So the egg toss was winding down and we started hiding eggs a little too soon before dark. Uh-oh. Let me just preface: The best laid schemes of mice and men, gang aft agley.
And the plot unfolded like so: We're all trying to figure out how to keep the kids from running off and finding eggs. Someone, somewhere pulled out confetti eggs. I'm thinking, Phew! that'll hold 'em. Which it did for like 5 minutes. We had to buy more time. Michelle and I were looking at each other like, "You better think of something fast." This might be the moment when it might have been good to have something formal, like a committee chair to run to, fleeing from the fanatic mob that is our children. But we weren't that prepared. So Michelle started a game of Simon Says. They totally bought it and only once did their little heads wander. The sun was just out of sight and we're just about there. And you will not believe it, the sprinklers came on. WHAT? The SPRINKLERS!!! Then all the parents looked at us like, "Um, now what?" And Michelle started yelling something to the kids and I think she's saying, "Go, Go!" So while waving off the kids, I said emphatically with all my little girl heart, "GO! GO!" And they're off! It just occurred to me last night that Michelle was quite possibly saying, "NO," as in "Wait for the sprinklers to go off." Hmmmm...Oops! Fortunately, all of our friends are pretty laid back and didn't mind the waterworks. I happen to think that it rather enhanced the fun of the evening. Note to self: next year, check sprinkler schedule at venue of choice.
The top picture is Michelle, the Master Simon Says. Sheri Moss held up kids to get eggs out of the tree while herself getting fired upon. Now that's a super mom! The third picture shows the sprinklers drenching the kids while in hot pursuit of their eggs.
I HAD to include these pictures to show that this is an activity where fun can be had by all ages. Here 16-year-old Casey (pictured in the middle) boasts of his winnings. We might have to take into account that his competition was the likes of these eight-year-old girls pictured here. I'm sure Tristan and Chelsea gave him a good run for his money.

And the finale? Kleins brought a bunch of Pea Shooters and marshmallows. What ensued was pretty much a bunch of adults waging marshmallow war on a mass of unarmed children. In the dark. We're totally going to get some.
Abram had his fill. Watching his parents run around like animals was what most likely did it. He was a good boy and our family had such a great time. I love the friends we've made here. They are always willing to do something fun. They've helped make so much of our experience here worth while and memorable.

Icing

What a cool group of people! Last night Bri and I were invited by the Solis family to enjoy box seats at the Killer Bees Hockey game (our Rio Grande Valley CHL team). We had such a good time, which may have had something to do with the fact that I haven't been out in a while, but more to do with the who and the where. It must have showed that I was wrapped up in the excitement of the evening because our friend Sam said, "Ok, who gave Xochi sugar?" And sadly, I hadn't had any (almost unbelievable, but true). I am a person who, however unfortunate you may find it based on your personal discretion, is almost without shame. I can't help myself. I get carried away at sporting events or if there is even a hint of gameplay (get geeked, get fired up). I tell myself that it is this quality that endears me to my close friends. Either that or they are racking up tolerance points. Bri insisted I wasn't too obnoxious. In my defence, those events are so loud, casual converstaion becomes a shouting match with the person right next to you. Who can hear over the announcer, "Whooooooooo Waaaaaaants A TeeeeeeeeeeShiiiiiiiiiirt?"

The Mascot broom hockey scrimage pictured here was hilarious. Just the sight of it killed me. But there was some altercation between those two parrot types and the Killer Bee which ended abruptly with Killer Bee stomping off the ice in a huff, in the middle of the game. I don't think it was an act, which made it all the more delicious. Oh, and for clarification, that weird brown shopping bag thing is the mascot of our local grocery store HEB. He's the H.E.Buddy. His cosutme obviously not ideal for skating.
Some of the best fun is what happens off the ice. I definately will not complain about the tasty snacks at our fingertips. I've never sat in box seats before, but I remember when we lived in Orange County, Bri went with Big Finn to a Laker's game in box seats. He came back with endless stories of gourmet food. And I was like, "Wow, that sounds great! Me? I had frozen corndogs for dinner."
Our friends Bethany and Serg. Poor Serg was shaking his hand clapper when the middle hand broke clean off and hit him straight in the forehead. It was hilarious that before the night was over, we had all broken our clappers and were left with the philosophical question, "What's the sound of one hand clapping?" But we did see ourselves on the big screen. It took us all about five seconds of asking each other while staring at the screen, "Is that us? I think that's us. Hey, Woohoo, that's us!"
And quite possibly my favorite part of the evening? Meeting this lovely set of twins, Jock and Jill. This little flitter of fun may not be surpassed for quite some time. What could be better than a couple of bearded dudes in scantily clad inflatable fat suits? At a hockey game? Seriously, what could be better?

Maybe this... I apparently without any cunning on my part was about to get some action from Jock. Or maybe it was Jill. Either way, this has got to be the best photo of the night.











Nope, outdone again. This is definately the icing on the cake! Who was it we said has no shame? I can't even believe it. To be fair, I'm not jealous that Bri is cozying up to Jill/Jock. And he wasn't the initiator. Sometimes we're in situations where we're egged on to do something we wouldn't normally do. So in a manner of speaking, you could say that Brian was sort of seduced by Jill/Jock. I'm sure it won't happen again. And positively not on camera. But you better believe I'm tucking away this little beauty for another time.

FYI, this is NOT going on the church bulletin board.

The Get

Here's our little man at his first easter egg hunt. He snatched this yellow easter egg and surprisingly, didn't let it go the rest of the morning. So it was a good get. It kept him occupied the entire primary activity -- I know, a single plastic egg.
The collage below is for the church bulletin board, so I decided to post it here too. You can see our "baby church" in one of those photos. Also, you can't miss a classic Abram face, his Royal Scrunchiness. I love it when he makes that face. It's so Hulse! (And there is no arguing that one Big Finn, because there are photos to prove it!)
The girls also had a lot of fun. That's a picture of Santi in the top left of the collage. She made a mad dash for her spoils. Cookies and punch topped it off. Abram had his first sugar cookie, but we couldn't convince him it was very good. Alas! The trait of foregoing sweets, he certainly did not get from me. I don't mind, I'll just eat his share too. It's a win-win.

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner

Elders. Lots of Elders (and two sister missionaries. but again, they bailed early before photos. So we're not counting them. What is the deal?). Last Tuesday was the second time we had all the missionaries assigned to our ward over for dinner. You might be thinking, "Are you nuts woman? Isn't it enough just to have two?" Well, yes, I am nuts and there is something to be said about the feeling the missionaries bring. So I figure I'm totally raking in the blessings, right? I mean, we're blessed when we serve the missionaries, so just multiply that and you get 5 sets of missionaries at your door. It's apparently going to become a regular occasion. We're going to have them all over either right before or after transfers every six weeks.
I'm really surprised at how young they seem. Bri hung his head when I said, "I think all the kids had a great time tonight." Kids? Kids!?! Are we that old that I now refer to missionaries as Kids? As in, "Oh, yes, that's what the kids are doing these days." "All the kids are wearing these." I couldn't quite believe it myself. It kinda reminds me of when Squirts (Bri's sister) asked me about a song and it wasn't familiar to me so she responded with tender sympathy, "You guys don't really know who anyone is anymore, huh?" I guess not.
And we most assuredly pound a new nail into our coffins when we say things like, "I served my mission in Santiago South, but that was 12 years ago, and that mission no longer exists" or "Yah, I was baptized in '94 when I was a senior in High School" and a missionary responds, "1994? Me too, except I was 8." These kids are so harmless. They certainly don't mean to offend when they say, "How old were you guys in these pictures?" and the follow up, "yikes!"
So why do I subject myself to being in a room filled with late teen early twenty-something boys (remember, we're not counting the sisters)? Well I wasn't kidding about the spirit the missionaries bring. Our area is on fire and we want to be a part of it. Plus, it is so nice to see all of them relax and talk, they are kids afterall. The selfish reason is that the missionaries get to have the Bishop's attention for a few hours which, I hope, will keep my husband out of more meetings. And the reason I will ALWAYS have missionaries over for dinner, regardless the number, is because my husband served his mission valiantly despite many times being cold and hungry. I'm sure many do. But I shudder to think of my Brian in such circumstances. And I don't know if I have the faith to send my children into a similar situation. So in the meantime, I'm feeding the missionaries. Hopefully it will be good enough for them to come back.

Fortune Cookie Say...

For Abram's birthday I made an Asian inspired meal, which was quite good if I do say so myself. And I do. We had a yummy chicken salad and wonton soup. And a big thanks to my mom who actually wrapped the wontons while I experimented with the soup broth. And even more appreciation to my grandparents, children, and husband who ate the delectable lunch. But what would such a meal be without downright authentic fortune cookies from the minds of (who else but) LaChoy.
A tradition we picked up from Aunt Squirts (AKA Amy Hulse, Brian's sister), is to add the phrase, "on the toilet" after reading each person's fortune aloud. It is really fun and with our family it usually is the precursor to fart noises and other potty humor (you know, all things Hulse) at the table. So that's the disclaimer if you're ever invited to dine with us over an Asian inspired meal, whether at home or in a restaurant, we certainly cannot control ourselves. Sorry.
And now without further adieu...
(Don't forget to add the special ending, "on the toilet" to each!)

Cherish your dreams and they will come true…

Happiness awaits those who seek it…

To profit from good advice requires more wisdom than to give it…

The key to success is belief in one’s self…

Hearts beat with life, hearts beat with love, you will receive happiness from heaven above…

Doing what you love is freedom. Loving what you do is happiness…

And my most favorite ones from the day:

Doing little things well is a step towards doing big things better…

You have strong spiritual powers. You should choose to develop them…

Little Abram had such a great time for his birthday. I'm pretty sure my grandparents did too. Who wouldn't enjoy themselves over good food, good fortune, and good people who make up the best table conversation EVER!?!

Big Boy!

Our little boy turned One Big Fat Year Old March 7th. That's it, he's numbered now, and he'll never again be anything less. "Baby's First Year" calendar is all filled in. Gone are the days where we tallied his age by months. Big Boy time.
Somewhere there is a picture of my first birthday. The quintessential first birthday shot, with a big cake adorned with a single candle placed before me and a quizzical look on my face. "Are you SURE this is OK? I think I'm gonna go for it." What I love most is that in this old photo my mom is behind me, peering over to see my reaction to my first sweet surprise. She is sort of a shadow of the mother I know today. She is so young and beautiful with long dark hair and a tender smile. (Do you ever wish you could travel back in time and meet your mother when she was young and get a better idea of who she was before her life was completely taken over by YOU?) When I found that picture, I wanted to make sure I had a similar photo with my own babies. I forget that birthdays are as big of a deal (if not more so) for the mommies as they are for their children. I can easily remember each of my children's birth days with every passing year. It is true that the pain fades, but our hearts are marked forever. And for that, I will always be grateful. Always and every year.

(And if any one of my kids says, "Mom, look at this picture when you were young! What happened to you?"... I'm crackin' skulls)

As you can see from the slides above, Abram got quite a lot of attention (as usual) and some really nice gifts for his birthday. Finner and Lainie sent two boxes that remarkably remained unopened until his birthday. His sisters, who both have openitis (which I'm quite certain they've inherited from their aunt Alli) tried so hard to look and not touch until the big day. Nana bought him little tonka cars that he can take to church and hopefully stay somewhat out of the aisle. A ride along tractor came from Lito of course, although he did allow Lita to share in the credit. The girls made him a blanket which they hope will quickly become his favorite for cuddling. Me too. And he got a few other things that I'm sure he hopes will help pass the long hours he spends at home alone with his old Ma.
For his birthday we took Abram to Garmendias to take photos. I had a special cake made up to capture the messy cake scenario that was sure to happen, and wouldn't you know it, he was witholding. Can you believe it? Well, he made up for it when we had cake at home (also portrayed in the slideshow).

Hulse Got Talent

Last night was our ward talent show. Besides our Christmas party, it was the first activity we had as a new ward. We were hoping (and praying) that there would be a good turnout. The activities committee did a great job and somehow turned our tiny chapel into a concert hall. It was fun. Marin gave an outstanding comedy routine accompanied by her parents and baby brother. Bri did the drums (ba-dum) and I helped Abram with the cymbals (chishhh) after each joke. Abram also drew a few applause as he yelled "Ahhhhhhhhhhhh" before a few of Marin's punchlines. But she handled all that in stride and just said, "Well, that was very unexpected." She's such a little mother sometimes. And Santi? Although Santi has various performing talents, she chose to opt out this time. She also said she thought the comedy routine was a little too silly. I couldn't agree more, but that's the way we roll.
Abram nearly stole the show again when a little girl Ivette and her brother gave their rendition of High School Musical's "Bop to the Top." Abram was dancing and toe-tappin' and believe it or not saying, "Bop, bop, bop, bop." It was just too much. You can see in the picture just how small our chapel is. It has been a little humbling to be such a small and at times, struggling ward, but I no longer take having a building for granted. This has been a refining experience for our family and I know it is a time our children will never forget.
Besides her tried and true jokes (the monolingual American and the piano/tuna fish), Marin tried out a few new ones:

Why did Mozart sell his chickens?
Because they kept saying, “Bach, Bach, Bach.”

Why is it too hard to play cards in the jungle?
Because there are too many cheetahs.

Why did the sea monster eat 5 ships that were carrying potatoes?
Because no one can eat just one potato ship.

And these are brought exclusively to you from the mind of Marin Hulse:

Knock, Knock?
Who’s there?
Alma.
Alma who?
Alma the Younger.

What bird shoots out ink?
A penguin!

I questioned Marin a little further about that last one, "What do you mean shoots out ink?" hoping the uncanny Hulse trait of potty humor was not in play here. She said, "It just shoots it out, I don't know why" as if to denote, "Does it matter? Why would I know such an insignificant detail?" We're expecting Comedy Central to call with an offer for an hour-long special any day now. We'll keep you posted.

It's payback time!

Whatever could I mean? When I was little I would volunteer my mom for all sorts of school projects: sewing costumes for 25 hand puppets, creating an assortment of confections and baked goods for the school carnival's cake walk, a chaperone for a field trip to the local petting zoo... and the list, unfortunately, continues to a point where neither my mom nor I can recall them all. And did I mention the critical detail that all of these were offered with little more notice than the night before the event? And this is where revenge is a dish best served cold. Like 20 years cold. My generous daughter, Marin, offered to bring the class a sample of a recipe called "Thunder Cake" from the book above. All the while assuring her classmates of my culinary genious. Apparently, they all started chanting, "cake! cake! cake!" which you can imagine boosted my ego and provided a situation in which I certainly could not refuse.
Did you see the time on the clock in the picture? That's p.m. people. It better be worth it. This cake better knock their socks off! Who am I kidding? You know they'll take a swipe of the frosting and dump the rest.
But the truth is, I'm not complaining. I'm grateful my daughter thinks I can whip up anything her heart desires. The time will soon come when she realizes she suffers from delusions of grandeur, but for now I'm going to savor this moment.
The pictures below show just how sweet my girl is. About a month ago, she surprised me with this cookbook she'd been working on for weeks. She had hand written several recipes she'd found in library books at school. I'll be sure to add "Thunder Cake" to my favorites.









"Thunder Cake" by Patricia Polacco

Cream together one at a time:
1 cup shortening
1 3/4 cup sugar
1 tsp vanilla
3 eggs, separated
(blend yolks in, beat whites until they are stiff, then fold in)
1 cup cold water
1/3 cup pureed tomatoes

Sift together:
2 1/2 cups cake flour
1/2 cup dry cocoa
1 1/2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt

Mix dry mixture into creamy mixture. Bake in two greased and floured round pans at 350 degrees for 35-40 minutes. Frost with chocolate butter frosting. Top with strawberries. Enjoy! (I love how Marin writes "enjoy" after all her recipes!)

Finally...

Kimball Lloyd Hulse has arrived! Another Hulse baby? The world just became a better place (We Hulses are revered for humility). Congratulations to Cam and Kathy. You guys are great parents. And super Congrats to Sadie Pants for becoming a BIG SISTER! ...Lucky! Man, I love that girl!
And I want everyone who reads this blog (all two of you) to look at how amazing Kathy looks just after having a baby! Can you freakin' believe it? Thanks for setting the bar impossibly high for the rest of us. I think I'll have to photoshop my next post delivery photo op. Smokin'.

February 10 Girls

Happy Birthday to some of the coolest girls EVER!

My daughter, Santi girl, with her little porcelain face and sweet pink cheeks.


My mom, Yolanda, who by this photo you can see quite obviously IS fast fashion. I love it. She's always been a great mother and a dear friend.


My great grandmother Maria. A very regal woman who tolerated two rambunctious mouseketeers snooping around and raiding her pantry. She made the best tortillas and I haven't tasted anything like them since.

As you can see, Santi is a lucky gal to be born on such a blessed day. And my mom can never claim that I never gave her anything for her birthday. That's the gift that keeps on giving. If it does in fact skip a generation, perhaps one of Santi's grandchildren will be born on Feb 10. I hope I'm around to find out.

Six Shooter

Six years ago:

Our family was not complete.

I'd yet to see your face and adore your little fingers and toes but my heart swelled at the mere idea of you. I wondered if it really was possible to love another child as much as the first.

Mommy was taking a midterm when you decided that it was time to be born. No one could have predicted your grand entrance at 9 pounds 5 ounces. (Well I think the doctor should have, but who's complaining?)

On February 10, 2002:

Our family became more complete.

I finally met the little girl who I'm sure was part of my life long before. So much fervor and zeal in one little body and simultaneously, endless tranquility in those soft blue eyes. And there is always more love in a mother's heart than she can ever imagine.

I am a stronger woman, more empowered, more faithful, more submissive to the Lord, and more certain of who I can become because you were born to me.

Plus you completely crack me up! And keep me on my toes. I love you Santi girl. Happy Birthday!!

Stair Master

Our little guy has mad skills. And he thinks this recent accomplishment should be lauded with praise. Every three or four steps, he stops, turns around and raises his eyebrows like, "Are you getting this? Is this working for you? Because I'm personally unsatisfied with your reaction." And he'll wait for the validation and then he will proceed with his hike.
Sure, we're proud that he can scale each step to the top. Are we happy about it? And, see this is what we could call a gray area. You might already imagine that this is an activity which requires critical adult supervision. Well it seems critical when you're confined there, scooting up every few steps at a time, laying back, but not too far, while you have a million other things to do. And because this has become his activity of choice, he will brave whatever obstacle that blocks his path to the ultimate rush.
What's that? Safety gates? Yes, well, we're on round two of that approach. Even though Brian was quite explicit in his instructions to our other children that safety gates are for safety and not for swinging out over stairs, the explanation was lost in translation (translating is hard). And I'm not going to divulge which child was the culprit but I'll give you a hint: it starts with Santi and ends with Hulse.
So although Abram is very adorable, for his parents, his recent skills are more madening than mad.

From the second photo you can tell that he is not only the stair master, but he is also the thigh master.

P.S. Please pay as little attention as possible to our nasty carpet. Unless you're going to email Brian convincing him to change it. I just want you to know, that I already know it's awful.

Sweet Santi

Let me first start out by saying that Wednesdays are not my best days. Bri leaves early for some special meetings at work or whatever and then doesn't come home until late into the evening because of Bishopy stuff. So usually I crockpot but I didn't even have it that together today. I grabbed the kids greasy cheeseburgers for din tonight. Sad. I know. Being Santi's turn to pray she says all the regular things about being thankful for the day and the chance to be together, etc... and then, "We're thankful that Mom let's us have fast food." My heart sank a little. And then, "Please bless Mom to get enough, enough, enough sleep tonight and tomorrow." It sank a little deeper. And the clincher? After Santi's prayer, Marin says: "Did you guys know that no two french fries are alike?" What? doesn't she mean snowflakes? Nope, she really meant french fries.
Because I have to monitor my kids' diets for more than just fast food fat content, I am quite confident we don't eat too much fast food. In fact, hardly ever, but it took me for a second, like, "Am I a highly-processed-food-serving sleep-in mom?" But even if I was, my daughter is so sweet to be thankful for me, whatever I am. She is so gracious and so forgiving. The redeeming part of her prayer? "I'm thankful for Mom who does everything for me and makes everything easy." That's the stuff I need to remember, for those moments when everything isn't easy and ALL I want to be is a highly-processed-food-serving sleep-in mom.

Fergilicious Bday!

...one year older and wiser too,
Happy Birthday to You!
Have a good one Jen! We hope that you have a great day and that when you blow out your candles you'll wish that we visit you and get a fergilicious tour of Chicago.
I can dream can't I?

High as a Kite

This weekend we went up to the kids' school to finally fly Bri's new practice kite. It was crazy windy and the kite just took off. It drew so much power it lifted Bri off the ground a few times which I thought was insane for a little trainer kite. The kids thought it was awesome. Marin and Santi both got a turn. It's not for the faint of heart. I tried it and was totally humbled by the kite's energy, which is to say that I told Bri not to let go fearing the kite would drag me across the field or worse. I'm a scaredy cat. So what.
We had tons of fun. As we're packing up everyone's gear: bikes, scooters, walkers, kite, etc... Bri coyly said that this trainer kite is big enough to land board. Um, what? So that's his hint that now he wants a landboard. Maybe. It is good recreation for the whole fam. I'm happy that he's getting a chance to practice before he takes a real kite out to the gulf. And when he can't get down to the island to kiteboard, he could use a landboard over at the Telemundo Soccer Fields. Yes, Telemundo.

Marin on her tippy toes and Bri making sure she doesn't take off.

Santi made it clear she prefers activities where her feet stay on the ground. Sort of.
Below is a clip of Bri with his new kite. I'm so supportive.

And speaking of High as a Kite....
The backstory is: We had a yard sale Saturday, of which I have no pictures and I wish I did because we were crazy mobbed by yard sale junkies. Actually, people have businesses out here called Ropa Usadas (Used Clothes), and if you served a South American mission, you might also be familiar with Ropa Americana where they sell or auction clothes by bales or drums. So people serge upon yard sales here and then sell them to or from a Ropa Usada. It's a huge enterprise. And all of this isn't very relevant except that we had a yard sale early on Saturday.
The real story is: Bri and I were in the garage late friday night sorting through our junk, getting ready for the yard sale when Bri said, "Do you smell that? Can you smell that?" As I'm walking outside, he says, "It kinda reminds me of my high school, or..." and before he said "rock concert" I said, "It's WEED!" I was like, "do you think one of our neighbors is having a party?" which is a stupid question because of course one of them is at any given time, at any time of the day (but that again is another story) But it was really breezy and the smell was so potent that we both looked at each other and knew that someone's field somewhere was on fire. And we were dying that we better hurry up or else we would both get contact highs or that all of the yard sale clothes would smell like culican. I guess that's just part of border life, or atleast, South Tejas border life. The borders truly are so porous and I can't even tell you how corrupt law enforcement is. So it says a lot about the people who really are trying to do their jobs. There's a sign at the border check that lists all different kinds of drugs seized presently for the year. The m.j. confiscated last year was several tons. Bri was like, "Several tons? Weed is so light, do you know how much they would've had to confiscate to weigh even just a ton?" So if any of you come to visit us and it smells like Dana Hills High School or Lollapalooza, you'll know why. And come to think of it, Brian did play a little Jane's Addiction the next morning... hilarious.