Photo Hunt: Together

My new sister-in-law of two days.

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Photo Hunt: Sad

I was going to broach the subject taking the word at its (other) Scottish literal: sad = pathetic, but I had nothing to back it up with, which in itself is sad because I really like to hone my self-depreciating humour.

This photo is no stranger to my site.  Small children have irrational fears of things they can’t and don’t understand.  This one?  Until recently was deathly afraid of the car wash.

I was sad when I got to Scotland and they’d changed the chocolate!  “No artificial colours, flavours, preservatives”.  It was still good, but missing something.

And, I’m sad because the theme wasn’t another adjective, thinking.
(He’s going to stookie me one day for this…)

Hidden Talent

Hosted by Cecily and MamaGeek

I’ve had some really nice feedback on my new profile photo I posted and I wanted to share the secret.  Well, it’s not really a secret, but it sounds better, doesn’t it?  My husband didn’t take it, in fact, someone over 4 feet didn’t even take it.  Who took it?  My 4-year-old.  I just sat in the grass and he wouldn’t stop clicking, so I played along.  Here’s a sample:

At this rate, he’ll be paying for me to live in the lifestyle I’ll have become accustomed to.

Photo Hunt: Road

As many of you know, my little family and I went to Scotland in March/April to visit my family.  To save $400 per ticket – so a whopping $1600, we decided to fly direct to London, hire/rent a car and drive to just west of Glasgow.  Now, I’ve been on long road trips living here, and now I think nothing of driving for 6 hours to get somewhere.  Six hours seems reasonable these days.  The drive from Heathrow to Glasgow was an estimated 7 hours non-stop.  Now, couple this with not really sleeping for 24 hours and raging jet lag, and there you have it my friends, you instantly have a “it seemed like a good idea at the time.”  It took us 10, almost 11 hours.

A funny-now story:  The kids had done amazingly on the three flights (Missoula to Denver, Denver to Dullas, Dullas to London) and we stopped not long after we left London at a Warwick (Woh-rick) Welcome Break (a cool rest stop).  I was crammed in the front seat with luggage around me and barely had enough room to wiggle my toes.  Ian declares, “Mummy, I’ve got throw ups.”  “Wha?!”  Yeah, I had to scramble to the back door tripping over my bags and catching my coat in the door.  Irony doesn’t even cut it.

Below are photos of random places on the M6, one of England’s most notoriously dangerous motorways.  Sounds fun, eh?  This is on the trip back down to London, although we were technically still in the north (of England) here.

The white dots on the hillside?  Sheep.

A Lifetime in 6 Months

It’s amazing to me how much has transpired since Cameron turned one year old in January. I was physically exhausted after writing this letter to him. I’d found out the condition of my Gran had worsened and posted this – another drainer.

We made the decision to go to Scotland together as a family to see her in March, she passed while we were there and then I wrote this and this.

You’d never know I generally seep in sarcasm after reading those. Everybody takes you seriously when you have a lilting accent, though. Something about not hearing the different sarcastic inflection. Kiss my kilt. It’s draining the sarcastic life out of me.

So, I decided since Cameron was turning 18 months old today, I was going to capture some shots of him and Ian together. It turned out well. As well as a mother could hope. Now I know why they say never to work with children or animals. Or animal children. (Click on any of the images to enlarge.)

I get them in position, and then they spot a farmer on his humongous tractor 16 miles away. OK, it was about half an acre behind our place, but still…

I birth a brain child and heave their bench from the porch onto the lawn. Too bad they’re too busy TALKING to pay attention to me. Their mother.

Almost a shot. Too bad they’re both looking the wrong way. What’s over there, you say? Nothing. A rogue twig, probably.

Ian tries to steal a kiss, holding on to Cameron with the double hand death grip.

An escapee chases a bloody butterfly. However, I am still oozing the patience of a saint.

I manage to get Ian back on the bench, doing some sort of Playgirl move. Too bad his shoes are on backwards…

Yes, he’s a freakin comedian. I’m laughing too. Can you hear me? CAN YOU HEAR ME??!!

I fake sneeze to get Cameron to laugh. It backfired when Ian started doing it too.

Granted, they’re still sitting together, but then Ian starts body slamming him because I kept telling him to move back beside Cameron. Cameron then curses at him in his own language. Ian looks on, obviously indifferent to the insults being fired at him.

I give up. This one’ll do.

I took this the night before. His first shot on a swing.

I get no respect. Check out his new growler face.

I get Ian in a prime spot and have him wait for Cameron. He was a no-show.

I’ll leave it to the professionals next time, they get paid to be miserable. In the meantime, I have some SERIOUS blackmail fodder for when they’re both teenagers. This is me with baited breath.