Pack Trip

Most of you are reading this righ now becaue you saw that we had a new post an got excited that you would get to hear a funny story from Julie, but alas, it is just her less funny husband. I know I don't usually do this but Julie was not on our family pack trip up into the Rockies of northern Wyoming. It was just the original Gary Reynolds clan, all eight of us. Mom, Dad, and their litter. And I will just say that it was UNBELIEVABLE. That is all. Our wives were kind enough to allow us this time together - let me take a moment to give a shout out to them. Thank you Angi, Kat, Morgen, Julie, Jessica, and even you Jason, who for the first time got a little taste of what it means to get involved with this crowd. Heck, MaShay was probably the worst of any of us, she missed her Beau so badly!!! Anyway, we started at a place called Boulder Basin and ended up coming out of the Greybull River valley near Meteetsee(sp?)So I will try to tell the story mostly with pictures. You may think there are a lot of pictures, and that's because there are. Well, it's my blog and I'll do as I please. Enjoy, and be jealous.

Dad was the only real cowboy in the bunch, and he looked the part too. Just look at him, in his element.

A lot of the forest we passed through had been burnt out by forest fires in previous years. It was pretty cool to see actually.

This was Cap, Dad's horse on loan from Uncle Steve. Ryan just wanted a picture with the coolest looking horse we had. Personally, I think it just makes Ryan look scrawny.

When we got to our biggest top out on Day 2 you could look back and see where we had come from. Somewhere out there.

I love this pic of D and his horse PD. We thought it was Petey, not P.D. (meaning "Painted Desert") Whatever. We called him Hidalgo anyway.

This is the morning of day 2. You wouldn't know it, but it snowed the night before.

We did a lot of climbing on day 2. And sometimes on foot because one of the horses hurt himself on day 1 so we gave him the day off.

This is how the evenings were spent. Sometimes with a guitar singing some James Taylor of Simon and Garfunkle tunes. What can we say, we are our father's children.

We did have one mule along with us. Cora was her name. And while she was a great pack horse, she was also a Jackass....HA! You could count on her wiggin' out at least once every morning while we piled the weight on her back. The best was the day she jumped for some reason and we had just put the guitar on her back, so when she jumped the guitar would slap her butt so she would jump again, and so on.....Can't believe that guitar made it out alive.

This was on the side of the river that was running by our campsite on days 3,4, & 5.

Getting all that junk to stay on the horses was not an easy process and we only mastered in on the last day. We spent 3 hours packing up camp every day that we relocated.

That is MaShay and that stud kissin' on her is named Chrome Dome.

As you can see, Mom couldn't care less that her daughter is wiping her snot on her hood. Just an indication of our concern for cleanliness by day 3. Personally I could have gone all week without a bath. But when we took off the layers one night in the tent to play some card games, the family kicked me out until I was clean. I must say, there was something liberating about standing stark naked next to that river washing myself with ice cold water. Natural as the trees around me. I didn't even feel the cold.

One of the mountain tops we reached. This one had a mountain sheep runnin down the side when we got there. Yeah, it was cool.

We found a killer campsite at the end of day 2. Plenty of grazing for the horses and a river running right by us. Kinda wish we had hung out there longer.

Not the best pic, but we had to take one with the whole family on their horses. Notice Cody's cute green tights. He fell in the river in his jeans....twice.

Just getting ready to head out.

Reese and a pack horse affectionately named Rockstar. We didn't know his real name, just that he was one of Bob's three stooges. But look at him, with the hair and all that. He just screams Rockstar.

Never again will I play regular paint ball. Wrist rockets are soooooo much cooler. Hurts worse and way more action. Not to mention cost efficiency.

Climbing the mountains on day two. These horses were awesome. They just kept chuggin along. As did Daman, who had to climb the largest mountain on foot. You DaMan, Daman.

We all slept in the tent because, well, heaven forbid we spend any time apart. I love being us.

This was my first introduction to my mate for the week, Fireball. He was awesome and we had a great time. I miss him.

This was the coolest ridge we topped out on. Beautiful views....

Packing the paniers. They had to be equally weighted for the horses' sake.

Our first night in the snow came down. It was beautiful! And really not that cold. And it was gone by morning.

The end of the trail. All of us in one piece. The only accident of significance was when Reese got hit in the head with a branch he was trying to break and Cody had to (I use the phrase "had to" liberally here. It was more for entertainment than anything) staple it shut with some skin stapler. I think it was out of the Horse First Aid kit. Awesome.

If Lila had hair...

Finally! A way to play with both kids simultaneously. Okay, admittedly, I was the most entertained. I think this activity speaks volumes about her good looks- you can't look at too many people with a comb-over and still want to kiss them. Personally, I think Lila will make a stunning blonde. Play-doh makes all the world a brighter place. Literally.

Anabelle turned two and learned where to poo

Behold the face of a potty trained two year old. Friday was Anabelle's second birthday. We weren't sure how much she got the birthday concept. She had been singing happy birthday all week in the bath tub and the play cake in her kitchen became birthday cake. When I went to get her out of her bed in the morning I said, "Anabelle, Happy Birthday, you're two!" and she said, "Yeah, I toot. Excuse me." I laughed and said, "No buddy, you're two years old today, you're two." To which she said, "Yeah and I burp too." Ah,forget it.

In the recent past, she has walked around the house looking for something and then asked me where her bike was. Since she didn't have a bike, I reminded her of that. It's a pretty brilliant strategy she was working on me. So we finagled up a little Radio Flyer trike for her and asked her if she wanted to see her birthday present. She walks up to it and says casually, "Oh,my bike." I was expecting a little more...surprise or emotion. I mean she gets super pumped up if I mention words like "yogurt", or "Shrek" or "marshmallows". Especially marshmallows. Or marshmallow filled yogurt while watching Shrek. On the days I want to be an extra cool Mom. I mean it's not like we got her a Huffy- we're talking Radio Flyer here- top of the line quality transportation. I'm not sure which one of is confused about previous bike ownership, but I am glad she feels that all things have rightfully been restored to her. We had a little gathering of ankle-biters for some "puppy" cake and ice cream. Braden and I blew up hundreds of balloons. I sometimes have a tendency to exaggerate numbers. Not today my friends. I mean a few hundred. The exaggeration comes into play in saying that Braden and I did it together. He really didn't pull his weight on that one, I won't lie. But the sore fingers and dizziness was worth it when I walked by the balloon room and saw extremities sticking up through the sea of balloons. A hand here, a foot there. I played in it myself after everybody went home and I gotta say- it's sort of awesome.

I can't believe we have a two year old. A very mature two year old at that. I know this because most of the toys she got said ages 3+ on it and she is totally working those toys like it's her job. I'm not sure if my kid is ahead of the game (no pun intended), or if toy manufacturer's are severely underestimating our children.

By way of update, as soon as I made it public knowledge that Anabelle was not holding it until she could make it to a public restroom, she stepped up her performance. That very night we went to Dollar Tree and she told me she had to go potty. I go flipping my cart through the aisles looking for the bathroom, find an employee, wait for him to get the key, set her on the toilet and she goes. I yell, kiss her many many times and tell her that I will buy her anything she wants in the whole store. It is fortunate that we were in the dollar store so I could make such a superb promise. Her eyes light up and we go to the toy aisle where she asks me to hand her each toy so she can examine it for the next half hour. She looks them over, hands them back and says about each one, "No sank you. I don't like that toy". She asked to see a furry glove with long claws meant to be some sort of Halloween creature. She puts it on and sits in the cart waiting for the next passerby. When they appear she shoots her hand out at them and yells, "SCARE"! She did this a few times but apparently it was not having the effect she was going for. I admit that the girls' got a decent growly voice on her. It didn't quite scare me, but it did absolutely crack me up. In the end she settled on a squishy lion. I think she picked it because she likes to say the word squish. The true test was going to church because that girl would trade her new bike to stay in nursery. She did have to go during sacrament meeting. As Braden was taking her out she told the people in each row she passed, "I'm going potty now, I have to go potty".

Now our only problem is sleep time. She does not stay dry while sleeping so I put her in a Pull-Up. Which she pulls down. And off. And throws out of her bed. And then she pees. And then I wash all of her linens plus half the animal kingdom which must sleep with her. I have tried the layering trick. It turns out she can pull four layers off just as well as she can pull one layer off. The other day I walked in to get her from her nap and she says, "I don't take my panties off, I don't take my shorts off, I pooped on monkeys head". It seems that if she had followed the first two instructions which she clearly understood yet ignored, monkey would not have fallen victim to her sick unbreakable ways. But for now we celebrate wildly her huge accomplishment. I might just give her a pot of marshmallows tonight for dinner for making it happen.

What a time

Oh what a week. Braden is out of town. For nine whole days. But what a time of life in general. I had ambitions to catch up on some scrapbooking in Braden's absence. I have also been going through closets and sorting seasonal clothing. These two activities together have caused me to investigate an astonishing fact: How is it that this house is FULL of little wee girl clothing and yet my daughter is naked in almost every picture (with the exception of accessories- she somehow has no pants on, but is frolicking around donning a turquoise necklace from 1984 heavier than she is, my sunglasses, and Braden's tie. Now that the mental picture is in place-let's proceed). This realization startled me. I hesitate scrapbooking this fact. Will someone catch on if I put stickers over 80% of her pictures? There are a few explanations for this and I do feel the need to explain, seeing how this responsibility falls on my shoulders.

Firstly, she is dressed when she goes to sleep. Sometimes that is not the case when she wakes up. If she is dressed, I take off her "night dress" (jammies are "yucky") so as to limit my dirty laundry, because inevitably, she will wear some part of breakfast. Then there's the outfit I put her in before running morning errands. Then there's the one I put on her after the first one gets drenched in milk from the last minute snack before we walk out the door. Drenched, not splattered. Splattered outfits go to the store. Then there's the outfit I put on her after she doesn't quite make it to the potty. If she's wearing anything at this point in the day it gets sacrificed to dinner. I can only deduce that the bulk of our pictures get taken at this point in the day. Naked with some straggling bracelets and a unicorn tuft of hair where an earlier pony tail hung with a cute bow. "What's the point" I find myself saying. And Lila- let's not even detail Lila's outfit changes. It sufficeth me to say that they are many. For her as well as anyone holding her or within a 5 foot projectile radius. Maybe I will just take a picture of their closet full of clean clothes and include it in the scrapbook, just so they know that I did my part.

Secondly, I find myself in the throes of the two worst parts of parenting for me thus far: breastfeeding and potty training. And they are ganging up on me simultaneously. (Hey, I believe in breastfeeding just as much as the next guy. But the truth is, I'd rather punch myself a million times in the face. It would be less painful. Although it is the only time in my life I can approximate the time pretty accurately by feeling my chest). I spend, on average, at least 70% of my days feeding Lila while sitting next to Anabelle on the toilet, singing variations of the "Bus song" and reading the same 12 books (put me on a Sesame Street trivia show, I dare you). It's all I can do to keep both my kids fed and pooping in the right places. I try to give Lila formula to ease the insanity and she gives me a face that says, "Really Mom? What is this crap?" No seriously. That is exactly unmistakably what her face says. She did however seem to enjoy the generous helping of 2% milk given her by a certain sister. Not to mention the fact that I have recently discovered that my not yet two year old is playing me like a fiddle. She gets mini marshmallows for every successful trip to the potty. And I have noticed a pattern lately: She goes pee. Not too much, but she does go. She gets a few mallows. Right as the last mallow hits her mouth she has to go again she says. Before the last ones are even swallowed. I'm doubtful, but I'm not taking chances so we return to the bathroom we call home. She immediately goes some more. Again, just a little. Is this kid really cutting her pee in half for fruit flavored mallows? And if she does have that ability, why is she not using it to hold it while we're out in public until we can find a potty? I gotta get to the bottom of this. The price of Pull-ups compared to diapers demands that I find answers. And speaking of being swindled, the county we live in is going bankrupt because of a political scam so they are taxing our water bill to recover money. Last month we used $20.00 in water but our bill was over $70.00 which is 2.8 times what we actually used. So every time Anabelle flushes for her mischievous mallow method, it's like she's flushing 3.8 times. Wow, Really?! Am I counting toilet flushes? Judge me if you want but I'm being hustled on every side.

On the up side, we have spent lots of time this week playing "cooking" in her room and talking about using our imaginations. Happily, it is the only cooking that went on all week. This morning she made for me a dolphin and a whale out of a piece of bread. She even licked the bread to make it more pliable while forming the mouth. It was remarkably impressive. However, it is bread. Licked bread, and I wasn't going to eat it. So a while later she walks by the kitchen and sees her creations in the trash. "Mom! Don't you throw my dolphin away!" But it was her look that really got me. She has never made that face before. I have never been looked at like that before. It was a face that said, "How could you?" I felt like pond scum.

I was talking with a college friend today and we were discussing the paradox of this stage of our lives. I have never known such absolute joy in all my life. I have also never before googled how to sell a child on ebay. Okay I still haven't done that, but I have surprised myself at the level of frustration I can feel and the amount of ice cream I can eat in a single sitting. Wouldn't trade it for the world. I don't want to go back and I certainly don't want to skip anything. What a time. What a wonderful amazing time.