Boys Club!

Check out these guys...

Seriously, could they get any cuter?

I don't think so either.

No, O people, the Lord has told you what is good,
and this is what he requires of you:
to do what is right, to love mercy,
and to walk humbly with your God.

Micah 6:8

Goodbye Tuff Girl

I got a new car. I needed one. My Jeep (which P lovingly named Tuff Girl) was getting close to the magic mileage number for the best trade-in value and our growing family was getting seriously cramped, and while I loved so many things about Tuff Girl, I knew it was time for us to part ways.
After two days of scouring every major car dealership in the greater Anchorage area we got a great deal on a great car with as much seating and cargo space as you can get without going the minivan route. On a side note, at every dealership I would tell the salesman what my three options were and every time they would try to sell me a minivan -- so frustrating! Anyway, I should be elated, right? And I am. But. But for the fact that in order to get the new car I have to leave Tuff Girl at the dealership. You wouldn't think that would be an emotional moment, but it was. It always is.
One of my dirty little secrets is that I have cried every single time we have gotten rid of a vehicle, from the Delorian-like red car that John and I paid $100 for in Italy when we were still dating to our recent trade-in of the Jeep. Without fail, I have driven away wiping tears from my eyes like I was leaving my child with complete strangers. I know that it seems ridiculous, but here's the thing -- the passing of vehicles is like the seasons of our lives passing, and so I have become emotionally invested in each of them. When we left our car in Italy to move back to the states we were launching full speed ahead into our married life. When we traded in our not-so-trusty 1985 Bronco we were finally becoming grown-ups and tackling a car payment. When we went from a pickup truck to an SUV because I was pregnant with G we were letting go of our kid-free freedom. When we left that SUV at the dealership and drove home the Jeep I cried at the idea of giving up the car that brought G home.
It was no different this time. If anything, it was worse. I'm pretty sure that I was more emotionally invested in Tuff Girl than any other car to date. She moved us from California to Colorado and then from Colorado to Alaska. She was faithful to give me absolutely no problems through two deployments and barely slipped a tire through my first Alaskan winter. Sky and I had matching cars. She brought both of our daughters home. She had backup sensors, which I am positive saved me hundreds of dollars in insurance premiums! But our family has outgrown her. Another season of our lives has passed, and so the Jeep must go (sniffle, sniffle).

This is What Happens When You Underestimate a Toddler

When the big kids were one I remember thinking how big they seemed to me, mostly because I had no basis for comparison. Now that R is one and I have a five-year-old and a three-going-on-thirty-year-old, she seems much more baby-ish to me. That being said, I often forget about what she is capable of doing physically (like her new habit of just standing up in her high chair when she's done eating). My tendency to forget really backfired yesterday when I bought P a marshallow dream bar (Starbucks name for a Rice Krispy Treat) as a treat while we were out on girls day. While I was loading groceries into the car I put the bar, in the bag, on the back of the cart, presumably out of R's reach, only to turn around and see this:

That's right, her two little front teeth allowed her to chomp off a corner before I could (take this picture and...) get it from her. But oh well, she worked hard for it, lived to tell about it, and gave me this great photo op for her scrapbook!

R is ONE!

And there it is, ladies and gentleman! Just like that our baby girl is ONE!

Here's to the late night feedings, hugs and kisses, lost pacifiers, toothless smiles, messy diapers, countless tears, new discoveries, love, and adventures that have made Rogue Scout's first year all that I prayed for and more!

We love you, Sweet Baby R, and can't wait to see who you are growing in to!

Fire Team Highlights

John went back to work today. When we were putting the big kids to bed last night we were trying to prepare them for not seeing John when they woke up in the morning and they kept asking "so, he's going back to Afghanistan?". I kept telling them no, that he would just be working at his company, the building next to BN, which they are familiar with from FRG meetings, numerous trips to S1, etc. When it finally sunk in that I was talking about a building that she is intimately familiar with, P looked at me with confusion written all over her face and said "Daddy works there?". She had no idea.

Skip forward a few minutes from that conversation and P and I are talking about someone who was poisoned (yes, I know my kids talk about weird things -- do you know their parents?). Here's the play by play.

P: So, he was poisoned, like the Man in Black?
Me: What?
P: You know, like the Man in Black was poisoned on the train car in Pioneer Park?
Me: No, that was not the Man in Black, that was President Harding.
P: Oh, but the Man in Black is still dead, right?
Me: Yes, he's still dead
And then Gunnar pops out of bed and, in his super-sad-almost-in-tears voice, says "the Man in Black is dead?"
Seriously, I could not write this stuff.

In other news, Baby Rogue is one, and I'm not writing a big entry about it because I'm still sort of in denial. How did a year go by so quickly?

As If...

I can remember, vividly, a conversation that John and I had almost exactly two years ago, weighing the possibility of having another baby.

On Friday R will be one! I can't believe we ever debated bringing her sweet little soul into the world!