School Days

So, it was time for the happy naked dance. OK, so I really didn't carry it out like I'd been planning for five years. As I watched my eldest child walk into the big kindergarten room, I was, I don't know, a little sad...

Matt is a very active child. Beginning at the age of one week when I brought him home from the hospital the child was a ball of energy and frustration for his mother. For two months the child would scream five hours every evening and not sleep unless he was held. This, to me, was not what a new baby should do. They call it colic...whatever "colic" is, nobody knows. It's just a term: nobody knows what causes or how to fix it. It was hell: emotionally and physically. So, as much as I hate to admit it, at the time I was ready for kindergarten to start.

But, yesterday, as I watched my oldest baby blink harder and harder to keep the welled-up tears from spilling down his cheeks and his chubby hands holding tight to his Lightning McQueen backpack, I had instant regrets about wanting him to go. What if he forgets to get off the bus? What if wanders away from the playground?

He walked sullenly into Mrs. Clarke's class at Diamond Valley Elementary: all alone. And I walked back to the mini-van: not alone, but with two little brothers waving goodbye to their big brother. I think Milo actually missed Matt. We got home and Milo promptly put on Matt's new socks, shoes, belt, and underwear. So....either he missed Matt or he's just planning on taking over Matt's role at home.

Whiting Reunion

We had the R.E. Whiting family reunion over the weekend of July 24. This year the reunion took place at the Homestead near Springerville, Ariz. The year 1988 was the last time I was there, myself, and the place didn't even seem familiar. But, it was the area my great-great grandfather homesteaded at the turn of the century. My own grandparents used to have a cabin there and my mom and her sisters spent many summers rolling tires down the Sierra Trigo mountain.

On the way to the Homestead, we passed through Holbrook, Ariz. What a cool town! OK, so it's a little rundown now, but back in the 1950s I'm sure it was in its heyday. The main road into town is dotted with faded hotel signs that are reminiscent of the days of traveling Route 66 to see America. My Grandma and Grandpa Whiting actually ran a Whiting Brothers hotel and service station right on this road back in the mid-50s, and my Grandpa, living in Holbrook as a young boy, remembers the travelers coming through town during the 1930s Dust Bowl. Before he passed away in 1993, he said the scene looked just like it did in the movie "Grapes of Wrath."

The picture of the motel above is the famous "teepee hotel." If you have kids, Radiator Springs = Holbrook, Ariz.

Jason had to cook pancakes on the old Homestead grill.

Kassie playing with the ducks my Aunt Allison made for all the kids.

Tent City: these tents were huge!

Sierra Trigo

In a tiny little dot on the left side of the mountain is Matt and Emily climbing to the top.

From the tire rolling days, we found this tree that just grew up in the middle.