Thank you, Oprah!

The other day my kids were all having a snack in the kitchen (super healthy, of course) when I thought to myself, "Could it be true? Could I turn on the tv and watch a mom show?" And I could. So I flipped between Oprah and Ellen for a few minutes. My kids heard the high pitched ringing of the tv that is so high that only children can hear and they quickly ran in. I kept it on for a few minutes because Oprah was doing a show about chicken and pig farms. That is totally appropriate for small children, right? Then, out of the blue, the farmer explains to the lady that they have about 100 pigs born a day (you can see where this is going) and suddenly, out pops a baby pig, squirmy and slimy and attached. I couldn't change the channel, it was too late, the damage was done. Maren turned and looked at me with the most shocked and horrified face I've ever seen.

Maren: (mouth and eyes WIDE open) The mom pig pooped the pig out.
Me: Ummm
Maren: The mom pig pooped the pig out, mom.
Avery: (laughing) ha ha, the pig pooped the pig out.
Me: Well, it didn't really poop it out, it just looked like it.
Avery: Yah, Maren, it just looks like it, it doesn't really poop it out (as if she knows).
Maren: (still shocked) Did you see that pig poop the pig out?
What I am thinking, but not saying: Well, yes, basically you poop babies out, and that is how you came out and don't worry, you'll get to do it too.
Me: No, it didn't poop it out, it just looks like it. Let's not talk about it anymore.
(but we did, to dad at dinner and a few neighbors)

So thank you, Oprah, for bringing up the sensitive and beautiful subject of child birth with my children. I am sure we'll be having more conversations about this in the future.

The dreaded white stuff

This is what we woke up to on Sunday morning. The kids were so excited, so we loaded on the clothes and headed out to brave our wicked winter storm. Umm, I think it is time to invest in some blue snow pants for Ryan, poor kid. I didn't stay out as long as the kids because just looking at the snow makes me need to cuddle up to a warm blow dryer.

And I think we caught a cold.

Don't worry, the snow had melted by the time we got home from church. And it is supposed to get into the 70's again by the end of the week. Phew.

Also, Happy Birthday to my sweet husband. I love you!

The Hunt

Last weekend marked the beginning of a new era for Dustin. He went on his first ever Hunt. My parents came up for the weekend and my dad took Dustin with him Elk Hunting. My dad comes from a long line of hunter-gatherers. He grew up in Delta. So he has an innate drive that forces him to buy a tag and load up the gear and head into the wild frontier.

This year we had another succesful Hunt. Now, lest you mistake this for what it really is, let me explain The Hunt to you. Opening morning of The Hunt, you are out the door at the crack of dawn: approximately 7:04 am. If you didn't get up early enough to eat, you may stop at McDonald's and grab a breakfast sandwich. Then you drive in your Altima up the nearest Canyon for a while. Then you find a great meadow and throw on some bright orange and get out of the car and take a few pictures of everyone holding the gun.

Then you sit in the meadow and wait for your Elk to come to you. But you get bored after a few minutes and so you whine to Dad until he gives in and you set up a target and shoot the heck out of it (Dustin probably didn't whine, but I did as a child--I never whine now).

It makes you really happy to shoot a gun. After all this Hunting, you are starving so everyone piles back in the car and eats lots of yummy treats and turns the heat on full blast (because it is really cold to hunt). We talk and laugh and take pictures and eat and wear orange and shoot a gun and stuff like that. The only way my dad is killing anything is if it runs in front of his car. Hunting is so cool. Everyone should be Hunters.