Rock My World

In 24 hours, I will be welcoming a beautiful, baby boy into the world. How do I know this? Because it is "scheduled"... How can you schedule the introduction of new life? Medicine. Sorry God, I'm taking over for a moment.



The whole thought of this process is SO WEIRD to me. I am struggling with it for this very reason. How can I pick a day on a calendar and say "I want to bring life into the world on.... that day." It works with my schedule, his schedule, their schedule... it really is absurd to me.
I know there are many before (and many after... like 15 minutes after!) who have/are doing this and I realize that it really is no big deal. It is tried and true with little complications, but I guess at my heart, I am more of a naturalist. Sign me up for acupressure, herbal teas, good ol' fashioned boot-knockin', but artificial hormones? Driving to the hospital not in labor to know that I will have a baby put into my arms before the day is up? It just seems a little too "planned". I much prefer the "unknown... anxiety of wishing it would come... not sure if this is really it... holy cow my water broke... Let's go! Ouch this hurts!" scene. I am trying to reason my way through my emotions right now. Knowing myself, my logic will win, but 7 years from now, what will I tell my lil' guy about his entry into our life? Well, Son, we were really tired of having you stuck inside your mom so we served you an eviction notice and here you are! Not too exciting.**Please note: If you are one of the millions who elect to induce labor, please know I am NOT judging your decision. I am simply putting on a computer screen some of the apprehensions I have about my own choice to go this (new!) route. Bear with me...**



Back story: Since 28 weeks, the alkaline phosphatase levels in my blood have been astronomical. What do I mean? Well, normal range is below 100, elevated in pregnancy can get up to 180 (the placenta produces this protein in your blood, causing an elevation during pregnancy). My levels have (at times) exceeded 1700+. Yes. 1-7-0-0. Why? Your guess is as good as mine, or my doctors, or any high risk professionals at St. Luke's. My sweet doctor is perplexed, thus the reason she even mentioned early induction. So I am trusting her judgement and going with it.


Some of the reasons for the elevated levels can be preeclampsia, gall stones, kidney infection... the list goes on and on and on. I have been screened for all of this PLUS and alas, no conclusion. I just get to turn into the local junky with track marks all over my arms from the weekly blood draws to monitor this lovely little protein strand. Yeah.



So here I sit - T minus 24 hours from having a baby boy and not sure if I should call the dr. and cancel. Can I cancel? I know if it were his timing (and HIS), there would be a NO CANCELLATION policy, but right now I have a choice. What do I choose??? I have been trying acupressure, walking, spicy food, etc. to get him going on his own. I am selfishly doing this to alleviate the guilt I have from sort-of forcing him out early, but I guess when I comes down to motives, its all the same. I am trying to get him out early one way or another.

The other issue I have is the due date. Both of our girls were born on their actual due dates! How cool is that?! (How planned and predictable am I though?) So with this, our last, his due date is our 10 year anniversary! That is pretty amazing to me. I think it would be beautiful if he was born on that date (May 5th). Happy anniversary Babe! Here, I give you a SON! That is one gift that can't be trumped... and Phil and I have a little "competition" going on with our anniversaries each year. See this post for more details. But with this medical intervention backed by a little selfish uncomfortableness, I have officially sealed the deal that it WON'T happen. Damn!

I have been thinking though... and yes, it would be amazing this year... and maybe next year... but what about in subsequent years? When he is 11, what gets bumped?
With all these apprehensions, I am meandering around our house, stewing... a great feeling when you are 39 weeks preggo. But I know myself. I will show up on the 2nd floor tomorrow morning at 7 am with bells on, ready to go because I am ridiculously logical and I can make a "safer" case for the induction than I can for cancelling. My organs, my lower spine, my kankles, my husband and my sex drive will be much appreciative of my choice. Wish me luck that as they are taking down my information, miraculously, my water breaks and contractions ensue.


In honor of my LAST (fingers crossed there are no surprises!), I have to bare my belly because it will be missed. It has been a BIG part of my life for the past few months and I am sad to say good-bye to this well-rounded friend. Bring on the P-90X!

Betrayal

I did something today that I never thought I would do. I betrayed the teenage version of myself with a simple, seemingly minor thing. The girl that I used to be... the woman I am... the girl I have known for the past 30 years did something COMPLETELY out of character. This action, this choice I made may not seem like a big deal to many and still for others, it can be a good thing. But for me, I almost went over the edge. But...

I didn't. I teetered there. Peered out over the vast terrain that would and could become me, even liked some of what I saw. But then something happened. A rubber band inside my head snapped. I was jolted out of the beautifully logical trance that had hypnotized me and I regained my footing. I quickly turned from it and drove away as fast as I could. Literally.

You see, I test drove a minivan. Yep. I did. That's what all this is about.

I have come to understand there are two schools of thought on the subject of minivans. Either pro or con. There is no in-between. Many have been converted from one side to the other, but in most cases, it is black and white. It is one of those subjects not mentioned in casual conversations - kind of avoided the same way people avoid talking religion, abortion, politics, etc. No minivan talk in suburbia. We have our own mini-gaza strip and you better pick a side.

I can't explain why I feel so compelled to avoid driving a minivan. Logic escapes me. But what I have discovered is that my opinion is NOT based on logic, but on something rooted deep in my bones. It might stem from the fact that I come from the first generation of minivan moms. We were raised in them. We were embarrassed in them. We learned to drive in them. We learned to DETEST them. 80's minivans were NOT cool. It is sort of like the station wagons of the 70's. If you were raised in a station wagon in the 70's, odds are you will never. EVER. be caught dead driving one. Especially if it has wood paneling on it. So thus, I arrive at today.

My excitement this morning centered around the fact that I had a $25 coupon for a Shark Vac then Mop at Costco. Seriously. I was elated to be able to go the the store and buy a CLEANING APPLIANCE... for myself. One that I have been wanting for months. One that would catch my eye on an infomercial and I would waste 20 minutes of my day watching and debate whether I should call so I get the hand-held steamer to clean my shower! MY GOD! What is wrong with me?! This is where my mind has been lately. In the trance of MOM.

In the face of turning 30, embarking on a decade of marriage, having an almost-7-year old, a 17 month old and a new baby on the way, I think a wave of "momness" has overcome my brain. I have been packing my lunch for school, using my free time to clean my house (not because I had to), keeping up on laundry (sort of), organizing things, feeling crafty, planning meals... Who IS this responsible person looking back at me in the mirror and where the hell is Lisa???

I started entertaining the idea of minivans a couple months ago and it completely infested my brain. I would notice them around town, think about them... even dream about them. Then one day I did it. I spoke about them. The word came out of my mouth. It sounded as foreign to me as Portugese. But slowly, each day, it started to make more and more sense. I did a little research, thought about the reasons TO buy one... and that was it. The moment you allow logic to override your decision-making, this is the moment you have lost the battle. You see, I have discovered minivan logic is irrefutable. Plain and simple. They make sense. You cannot come up with a legitimate, sound, logical reason NOT to drive one. There are none. Or at least I have not found one. And so I was infected with the desire to replace my cute mid-size SUV with a much larger momivan.

You may be asking, "what is the big deal?" And really, there is none. I drove a Volvo sedan before this and I think that said MOM just as loudly as a minivan does. But the moment I let my decisions be ruled by infallable logic, this is when I stop being me. I don't choose a pair of shoes because I think they are super comfortable and I could teach on my feet all day in them. No! I choose shoes because they are cute, look good and don't hurt when I walk 4 feet at the store in them. Later on, I may be hating my choice, but goddamit, I will stick it out. No logic there! And underwear... I don't buy underwear that are comfortable and make sense by not riding up each time to take a step. No! I buy the ones that are sexy, leave no VPL (meaning they are up my a** all day) and match one of my bras. Again, not the best logic. HOWEVER, if I refuse to use good logic for what I put on my body, then how can I change my decision-making for what I put in my garage? I feel like I would have to trade in my "HOT WIFE" card and only be left with my "MOM" card. I don't want to just be a mom, I desperately want to FIRST be a hot wife, then a mom!

Now I have to defend a bit, so bear with me. I have seen many a HOT MOM step out of a minivan (have you been to my school??) and I know they exist abundantly in Suburbia. However, I feel that I would be less hot wife and more mom in converting. I don't have the ability to OWN the minivan. And I mean OWN it. Call me petty, call me immature, call me whatever. But I know myself and if I am already finding excitement in my Vac-then-Steam floor cleaner, I need some help - and it won't come in the form of an uber comfortable, extra-roomy, economical, shiny momivan.

I have to keep some things that are more "Lisa" and less "Olivia's mom" - like my string bikini, my pink, snake-skin stilletos... and my car. But I feel, right now, I am losing the battle. I am waaaaay more "mom" right now than anything else. This is possibly due to the fact that my belly looks like a basketball and there is nothing of myself that belongs to me. I am just a vessel for life and have no ounce of independence outside of my mominess. My face is starting to show signs of "mom", I have a "mommy butt" and I can't stop cleaning/organizing/planning around my house.

So maybe my rebellion to the minivan is a result of my hormonal desire to return to me, or maybe it is something more. Either way, I will NOT be driving one again soon because they are far too tempting for my logical brain and my husband refuses to make-out with me in the back seat of one.

The LONGEST blog post... EVER (part 1)

To alleviate this incredible weight I have self-imposed upon my shoulders, I am updating with the single greatest blog post to date. Now, keep in mind, our life is WAAAAAY more interesting than my simple-minded summary of the past year, but I will do my best to impress you with our business, cool-doings and all-around amazing familiness. Let's get started.


Olivia was a rockstar and decided to ride a bike. At 6 years old. This was a big question around our house because there was a moment in her uncertainty of actually venturing onto two wheels sans parental supports that she claimed Maia would be riding a bike before her. Nonetheless, she was successful.

Once she mastered the bike-riding, she took it upon herself to use her latest transportation modes to do what would make her mama proud and CLEAN UP THE EARTH!! Seriously. She put a plastic bag on the front of her bike and rode up and down and up and down the street picking up the garbage. Girl on a mission! When asked, she said, "The earth will thank me very much for my responsibility." You are right. And so would our neighbors who had left-over fireworks strewn from sidewalk to sidewalk. Her only problem, the bag was not full enough! Can it be more obvious she is a spawn from my creation??

Onto the rest 'o the fam... Phil is a ROCKSTAR on the wakeboard. He has officially cleared the wake. Like ALL the time. I am jealous. AND he gets some crazy air while he's at it.

I can't make it all the way over yet, but I am working on it! We spent quite a few days, afternoons, late mornings atop the water. Thanks to all our BFD friendlies for sharing the fun!

This is how Maia spent our days of fun in the sun.

Olivia put on her own show in the back yard. Love this little model-in-the-making. Can you say muscle definition? Seriously.

Trying to make a break for it. Luckily the wings don't work so well. We could very well not see her until she makes her way back from exploring every other continent/climate zone on earth, looking for a new species of... anything.

MAIA TURNED 1!!! I made some semi-homemade cupcakes and was obviously VERY proud. Chocolate with chocolate & a cinnamon twist. YUM.

Happy Birthday beautiful girl! Who couldn't love that sweet face?!!!

Telling us she is "all done"! Sign language has (at times) come in handy when her native tongue sounds like gorilla.

Okay, onto the fun! We took a family trip to the Oregon Coast. It was AWE.SOME! I don't know how else to explain it. Our kind of trip, for sure. We left bright and early at 4 am. The ONLY way to do it when you have kids (thanks Dad!). We always did this when I was a kid going to the coast and it was so nice to wake up in the morning and already be 1/2 way there! Plus it is nice for us to have some quiet time to catch up since that is a rarity for us at times. We saw many a truck stop, drove through the Dalles, skirted through Portland and arrived in Netarts Bay.

Netarts Bay is a quaint little crabbing/fishing/small town about 4 miles south of Tillamook. It's on a bay and VERY small. We rented a one-bedroom "cabin" meaning a converted 1970s motel. It was perfect and easy... claustrophobic. I almost couldn't breathe by the last day. But it was still awesome! We met some great people: the manager and his wife are about the nicest couple I ever met and work their asses off! It was insane the hours they put in - and still did it with a smile! We will most definitely be back - mainly because of them.

One of the FIRST things we had to do was check out a real life LIGHTHOUSE. The closest place was Cape Meares. Its in the middle of a beautiful Sitka forest. And the coolest thing... This Octopus Tree. It legit.

Once our adventure on the Oregon Coast began, so did the mass amounts of sand consumption, seashell collecting (or in our case, partially fragmented hard things that could possibly be in the right light a seashell) and of course, fun-making (both juvenile and adult).

Where we stayed was not one of those cute, seaside bungalows with cool shingles and a warm fireplace. No. We stayed in a renovated motel. That's with an M. Motel. It was straight out of a 70's porn or horror flick (depending on the time of day) and we tried to use our cliche' of a vacation spot for both... but not luck. There were no stairs for me to run up and away from a killer just to be stabbed to death and no pizza delivery man to... stab me to death. Did I mention it was one room? With two kids? And an aging lab who drank so much salt water the first day she looked like she had swallowed a smaller version of herself? No killing. No stabbing.

But we had fun. This is our kind of place. No suburbia. No chain restaurants. No gas station on every corner. Even no Redbox. We had to bring our own. And what did we fill our evenings with since there was no "adult play" to be had in our one bedroom bliss? Rescue Me. That's what. We got ridiculously addicted to this show and I rented the entire last season for us to watch. And we did. Tommy, Franco, Uncle Teddy, Janet, crazy Sheila... they spent every night with us. I even dreamed about them at times. It was horribly indulgent. I hated/loved it. And then I cut the cord. No more Rescue Me. Ever.

The BEST part of our entire vacation happened one wonderfully overcast day while we attempted to dig up clams. We had parked our boat along the shore and hiked through the sand mountains, jumped over ravines all in search of the elusive clam. Not realize how far we had walked AND that the tide was going OUT, we looked back to check on our boat (which did NOT have an anchor in spite of what I recommended). Lo and behold, this is what we saw after I zoomed the camera to the highest level:

That small, silver thing floating out in the bay and potentially out to sea... that is our boat. Good job Captain Phil. So what does any red-blooded man do who is about to lose one of his prized possessions to Poseidon? He ran. RAN! As fast as he could. What did we do???

We sat and ate goldfish covered in sand. As Phil approached the drifting boat (a good 1/3-1/2 mile run back to the shore), a kind couple was there to rescue our sailing beauty and bring her home again. Thank you kind stranger! This is why I love places like Netart's Bay - because everyone that is there (native or visiting) is NICE! No frills, no need to impress, just good, old-fashioned kindness. Onto the rest of our trip... We saw beautiful sights, gathered beautiful, rock-like-seashell-things, tasted delicious ice cream (TILLAMOOK CHEESE FACTORY was only 6 miles away!) Tried on hats (this is a MUST when visiting Seaside), rode the merry-go-round, ate 5 lbs. of salt water taffy, and caught crab. MAJOR CRAB.

Every good and faithful dog must be abused by her child-owner in order to know true love and devotion. Bailey is the BEST DOG we could ever have. She never moved, never whined, just lay there and take it... like a good bitch. Her expression says everything.

Now every Butler knows that a trip to the Oregon Coast is NEVER complete without a dip in the ocean. Behold - Maia's baptism. Please don't call CPS for giving my child pneumonia.

Her dad was quick to wrap her in a sweatshirt to keep her warm. But I could not keep that child out of the water! Where does she get it?

Then, as can be expected, it was off to Mo's for the best clam chowder! I have to say, it was not as good as I remembered it to be and Mo's seemed like a diner version of Joe's Crab Shack. Minus the ambiance, the chowder was good.

But this was what we came for:

He was like a kid in a candy store. Could you see a bigger grin on a grown man's face?! LOVE IT! The seals were pissed, but too fat and lazy from all the tourists popping by and throwing sandwiches at them to actually care.

Maia didn't love crabbing so much. She pretty much looked like this the entire time... unless she was crying. Yeah.

Don't be jealous.

All in all, We had an AMAZING time on our family vacay and can't wait to go back with baby boy. Thank you, Netart's Bay, for reminding me just how awesome the Oregon Coast is. We will see you again soon!

Bear with me...

After a VERY long sabbatical I have ventured out once again into the blogging world. I owe it to my mom, my grandmothers and all those other relatives who unfortunately don't get seen as often as they should. This will relieve some of my stress to know that somehow, someway, we are keeping in touch.

I read my last posts and realized that A LOT of my time is spent apologizing for not blogging and not so much about life in general. I have decided I am done. No more apologies. Life is too hectic at times and there is no excuse for not keeping up to date with it, but there is also no obligation to do so. I am a busy mom of soon-to-be three and am FORCING myself to keep some sort of documentation of our life... other than the 1,000s of pictures just hanging out on our camera. So here I am, updating as of Fall 2009. Yes, as in one year ago.

I titled this blog "Bear with me..." because you will need to do just that. I am sorting through all my pictures to give you a quick recap of all the Desilet clan happenings of the past year. It's time to step it up. So here goes:

I got in a fight. You should see the other guy... (!)

This is the other guy. A very large deer rifle with a ridiculous amount of kick. (See black eye above.) I was on the receiving end of a beautiful shot. The good news... I hit the target! I showed this who's boss! And after my pelt to the face, Phil realizes, "Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you about that." Oops. But instead of coming to grab the gun to relieve me from my assault, he quickly takes my assailant from my hand to avoid it from touching dirt. Good. Priorities.

Second, we bought a Bronco. Not just any old bronco... okay... it is an old Bronco. A 1973! A "classic". Now, because it was made before I was, I don't feel so bad about calling it a classic, but a small part of me has issue with it because it is only seven years older than I. And I would NOT consider myself a "classic." Needless to say, this has been a fun, exhausting, trying and educational experience for us. But alas, is is (sort of) complete, drivable, and a hell of a fun ride!

Last fall Maia was the ripe old age 2 months. We dared to venture out, stroller in tow, through the fields of western Idaho.

You can tell it was the time of Maia's life.

Olivia, however, though it was great to show off her new baby and was proud to tell everyone about her. She is such a good big sister!!

We had a blast on our family outing. There are new ones from this year coming soon! But thank you for bearing with me as I BEGIN to update all that has happened in the past year. This doesn't even touch the surface, but my poor little six year old has been watching Harry Potter for three hours and has only eaten tuna fish, green beans, grapes and mandarin oranges. I have to go be a functioning mommy now and make it up to her. Be back (very!) soon.

-- SIGH --

Wow...

Hi. My name is Lisa and I am a non-blogging-aholic. (All in the circle chorally answer "Hi, Lisa.")

It has been 53 days since my last post.

Since my last visit, I have been brutally beaten, gone back to teaching, ran a 6.2 mile race, cried over dried milk, built a city, survived Thanksgiving without blowing up, and have yet to really clean my house.

Today I sit at my computer on the darkest Friday of the year stuck. I can't decide what to write about... actually I can't decide what NOT to write about. I made a list a couple weeks ago about blog ideas and it overwhelmed me. There are so many racing around in my head but I can't manage to find the time (or energy for that matter) to get them out onto a computer screen. I need to make a plan. But all who know me know that my plans look great on paper but rarely come to fruition. If I could only set aside 30 minutes a day to write, I would be good! But I also say I need to set aside 30 minutes a day to sit, read & meditate with God, 60 minutes to excercise, 30 minutes to read each night with Olivia, 30 minutes to clean some part of my house each day, 60 minutes to make and consume dinner... the list goes on. Put that together with my 180 minutes needed to get myself and two girls ready in the mornings, 480 minutes of teaching, 360 minutes of sleeping, 180 minutes it takes to feed Maia each day, 15 minutes of daily diaper changes -- that leaves me LITERALLY 15 minutes of *free time* in a 24 hour period!!! No time to take a bath and relax, no time to sit and read my stacks of Oprah magazines or parenting books collecting dust on the nightstand, no time to just be. Don't forget I have to squeeze in some husband lovin' time otherwise life will be hell (and the 15 minutes just won't cut it) and actually sit and play with my children.

To accomplish this, I could actually schedule every minute of my day but SERIOUSLY... who does that! I know it may seem like I am the type that might do that... and honestly I have made many a schedule, but my problem is I never stick to it. Who wants to anyway?! I have enough of a scheduled routine at school that when I get home, I long for FREEDOM! (I hear Mel Gibson shouting with a painted blue face and no underwear beneath his kilt.) So here I am, taking this day to throw out all that I know I should be doing - like the feeding of children and changing of diapers - to enjoy a little time and clear my mind.

Oh... gotta go! Baby is crying. She's wet and hungry.

Shame on me

Yes. I realize the last post I wrote was almost TWO months ago. Guess what?! I had a baby! Crazy. I know. I am adjusting to this Mom of Two act while still maintaining my sanity. I have been in my classroom more than I'd care to mention - maternity leave... what? So far it is going incredibly.

Introducing Maia Love Desilet:

She is absolutely beautiful and fun and happy and everything we'd hoped she would be! It is so funny to see just how different and how similar our girls are. I can't wait to see this even more as they grow. Check it out...

Maia @ 6 weeks:

Olivia @ 6 weeks:

We have little monkey babies for the first couple months, but then they actually start looking like human children instead of something you might find hanging off a mama chimpanzee. They're pretty cute though!

Just last week Maia started smiling A LOT! She smiles when she wakes up, she smiles while she's eating, she smiles when you change her diaper, she even smiles in her sleep. I can't get enough of her little rays of happiness. She is wonderful. I am sad to see the days getting fewer and fewer until I have to go back to work because I know I won't get this amazing time with her again. Just a quick update this time. I have LOTS more to add with all the happenings of the past two months. I will be adding more soon!

T - 3 days and counting...

So everyone knows at the end of your pregnancy, all you want is to be done. I am there. I've been there. For some time now. This also means a severe lack of energy on my part to do anything... even move my fingers very much to actually write a blog post. So to signify that yes, my intentions are good (meaning I've had LOTS of great ideas to blog about), I am suffering from ninemonthspreggitis. It is an all-consuming disease that I would warn many about. Though it is not contagious through liquid absorption of di-hydrogen monoxide (H2O) as many think, it is completely body-morphic. You will not recognize yourself once you have been infected by this blissfully radical and psychological overhaul of your body.

I wake up each morning and keep thinking "today is the day!" And after some false labor contractions, a few aches and pains and lots of stops at the little girl's room, the day comes to a close and alas(!) no baby. Then night falls. I lay in my bed and think "tonight is the night!" And after endless tossing and turning and (more?) jaunts to the little girls room, daylight breaks and alas(!) no baby. Mix in there lots of inquiries from random strangers wondering lots of random thoughts as to how someone who looks like me could still be pregnant (interpretation: how is it possible for a belly to be THAT big?!) and my days are filled with TONS of excitement! Jealous?

Though I am quickly realizing that these days will soon be over, I am feeling a bit nostalgic about my pregnant body. I do love it. I love the roundness of my belly, I love the tan skin I've gotten from sporting a bikini all summer (oh yes I did!), I love the circus act I become at large public gatherings, I love the looks on small children's faces at Roaring Springs as the tug on their parent's side saying, "Look! Look! She has a baby in her tummy!" I love the feeling Maia hiccup (as she is doing while I type), and most of all, I LOVE how it has brought a different type of love between Phil and I. He is amazing. I say that all the time, but really he is. If every woman in the world could experience what I have... WOW.

So in the final days of my second pregnancy, I have put together some of the best pictures to honor my body - in all its glory - as a reminder of the good, the bad, and the ugly. You will be missed...

Side-view

Full-frontal!

Great to use as a cup holder

Who doesn't love kankles???

Surviving

That's really all I am doing right now... surviving. As of right now, August 4th is the tentative date of induction. Talked to my dr. and I am entertaining the idea. It just seems a little weird to me to be able to pick a date on the calendar and say "this is the day I am choosing to bring life into the world." I have to stew about this a bit... I have another appt. this Wednesday and we'll see if there is any progress. I'll keep you posted. But until then, I'll just try and survive.

Fathers... do we really need them?

I jokingly title this one, but seriously contemplate the developmental value of fathers other than to torment, teach naughty words, encourage death & destruction, and all-around counteract the good and positive traits mothers so desperately want their children to emulate.

Meet Olivia's dad.

He is undoubtedly HEAD OVER HEELS in love with his daughter. This is the only picture I have that captures the peace and serenity of first love. Once the novelty of a newborn baby girl wore off, the real man came out. I use 'man' very loosely because it appears that the maturity typically associated with a well-educated, strong, confident man of 28 years is thrown out the window faster than one can say, "uh".

Notice how beautiful, innocent, untainted baby girl is sitting excitedly amongst a deer rifle (unloaded and cleaned - please don't call CPS on us) and the remains of a deer skull with horns and a tiny bit of fur to prove its authenticity.

This picture was taken only after the mountain man himself skinned the deer in our FRONT YARD in a KIDDIE POOL and chopped off the bottom quarter of the front legs and gave them to our dogs as chew toys. The neighbors were thrilled. Particularly the vegan hippie mother across the street.

Dress-up has been upgraded with a little scotch tape. Those fans of Mason Lake are well-versed in its versatility for altering one's appearance. This is a preliminary lesson. The nose-smashing, hair ripping and eye-popping will come in time.

Wanna break something? What 3 year old doesn't? Instead of the plain ol' tower of plastic blocks, let's drive a SKID STEER! Go big or go home is our philosophy. Notice how safety has NOT been ignored with the appropriate application of a bike helmet. Good job, Protector.

But thanks to the unending efforts of this 'Dad', Olivia has mastered the art of many life skills she would otherwise be missing, such as:

baiting a hook and gutting a fish,

performing Swan Lake,

finding the perfect Christmas tree, cutting it down, and dragging it down a mountain all while Mom sleeps in the truck,

looking cute,

and donning a SCBA and full protective gear to go into any fire!

So in response to the title question of this post, "Do we really need them?" This is debatable, however the unending fun, unpredictability, and overall youthful perspective fathers bring to their children's lives is irreplaceable. I would not want to do this parenting thing on my own and having a fun, irrational and completely irresponsible person around to help me is... wait...

Just kidding Babe! You remind me to not take things too seriously and have fun with my daughter instead of always 'mothering' her. I love the father that you are and it makes me love you that much more (don't know how its possible). Curious to see what he might post about me. I am thinking I would find a search for pics of Hitler on our Google history.

Happy Father's Day! We love you.

** For Father's Day, I had a friend take photos of Olivia and I (in all my glory) and put them together in a book. This is just one of the many incredible pictures I had to choose from. She is PHENOMENAL and I gotta give her props!! Check her out: Kim Matthews Photography **