I'm well aware no one really wants to see more pictures of rashes, or hear me say the word "ooze" ever again. So, let's go back to a happier, less-itchy time in our lives...
We let Sawyer go a really long time without a haircut before finally taking the clippers to him a few weeks ago. He wanted to keep growing his hair even longer, but it looked too sweaty and hot in this weather. And poofy. He doesn't need any help making his head look big. His preferred long-hair look is shown below. Now, in Sawyer's world this look is not known as a fauxhawk, but rather as his "crest". As worn by various types of dinosaurs on "Dinosaur Train".
Oh, my Sawyer, you are so adorable!
After the haircut he was really sad that his crest was now only a half-inch long. Also, the haircut really messed with the satisfaction he gets from his notable self-soothing behavior of sucking the thumb of one hand while reaching behind or on top of his head and stroking his hair with the other hand. Okay, I realize he's getting kind of old to be sucking his thumb. I don't really know what, if anything, I'm going to do about it.
I know I said this post wouldn't be about rashes, but in case anyone is worried about Sawyer I will give an update. By the end of the day yesterday his rash was even worse than pictured in the last post, but the treatment seems to be working and I definitely saw some improvement by the end of today. I hope it stays on that track and never...you know... oo**s.
The next few photos are from July 4th, when we visited a county park north of here called Ringing Rocks. We'd read about it somewhere and we were exploring outdoorsy things in our area that weekend, and we thought, "Hey, we'll check it out."
It was kind of funny. It's a big boulder field with rocks that are renowned for the ringing sound they make when struck with a hammer. Not all the rocks ring, though. Just some of them. It's up to you and your hammer to find out which ones.
We parked our car in the lot and took a not-particularly-well-marked trail we assumed must lead to these amazing rocks. When we got "there" we saw a big boulder field. This was pretty anticlimactic for Tyson. I guess he was expecting Stonehenge or something. The best part was that the boulder field was full of people scampering everywhere and hitting rocks with their hammers. Maybe it just seemed so funny because we hadn't brought any hammers, so we just got to observe this somewhat bizarre behavior. Or maybe it seemed funny because we overheard so many conversations about which rocks were the "special hollow ones", and other funny explanations about why certain rocks were ringers, and how best to figure out which ones. (Besides just the process of elimination of hitting every single rock in sight with a hammer, which was definitely the preferred method.)
Well, there's no big secret. Big rocks that were balanced on other rocks and had space underneath them were ringers. Rocks that didn't have any empty space around them were not. You could make your own ringing rocks at home, if you wanted to! (But why would you?) And no, they didn't really "ring" so much as they sounded like rocks being...hit by a hammer.
But...the kids were BIG, BIG fans of clambering all over the boulder field. Sawyer kept exclaiming, "This is my favorite rocky land, Mom!" (But he says "favorite" more like "fay-bit", so it's even cuter.) He's been asking a lot to go back to "my rocky land".
Beck also loved the rocky land. Even falling over and somehow wedging his head between three boulders couldn't dampen his enthusiasm. Awww, look at him! My baby is getting so big!
Tyson was decidedly less impressed than the kids, but got in some good Kindle time.
All in all it was a fun end to a holiday weekend during which we relished three consecutive days with Tyson. The REAL Tyson, not the one who's at work, thinking/talking about work, or recuperating from/resting up for work. The real Tyson is but a distant memory with the way his work has been lately. I feel like we get Tyson for about a half hour each night and maybe two hours on the weekend. By the time he gets home and gets out of working/thinking about work mode, it's time for him to go to bed and go back to work. Lucky for him he gets to be real Tyson for the next nine days. He flies out to Utah on Monday morning, and I'm so jealous. I'm not just jealous that he's going home and I'm not. I'm jealous that everyone at home gets to be with the real, non-work Tyson I miss so much. I'm kind of sad that he's using five of his limited supply of vacation days and that the rest of us don't even get to benefit. However, I know how much he needs the break. (And it's not JUST a vacation. Technically it's a job interview trip, and we all know how FUN job interviews are!)
I've given up the idea of driving out there, for a few reasons.
1) Because it takes a lot of hours (about 36 driving hours, and if I'm going by myself, lots of stopping/sleeping hours, too) and a lot of gas/money to get there, and I did barely just get back from there seven weeks ago.
2) Because things are just kind of up in the air too much right now, and I don't know if logistically it's the best idea, whether or not Tyson is offered the job and takes it.
3) Because I am on heavy antihistamines and steroids, and maybe I shouldn't try to operate a motor vehicle for 16 hours a day?
4) Because it will be more of a break for Tyson without us there. I mean, maybe he will miss us, or maybe it would be more fun in some ways if we were all together, but without us it will certainly be easier, and he'll get to do just what he wants, when he wants. (Hmm, that DOES sound nice. When's MY turn for a solitary vacation?)
5) Perhaps one of the biggest reasons is that I just barely started to catch up on laundry, and therefore I couldn't have packed for the trip and left at the best time (which would have been today or very early tomorrow, in order to arrive ahead of -- or at the same time as -- Tyson, on Monday.
So, that's that. However, I am still contemplating ignoring #4 and throwing a wrench in Tyson's unencumbered vacation. A Beck-shaped wrench. See, Beck still flies for free (if you don't count the mental costs of holding him on your lap during a flight), so Tyson could bring him along on the trip. Hey, Tyson was the one who first threw out the idea, but I think he wanted to backtrack as soon as he had mentioned it. We'll see.
And, thus ends my communication with the outside world for the day. My hives are preventing me from wearing clothes that are appropriate for venturing out in public, so the internet is sort of my connection to the outside. You know that thing that women wear, that rhymes with...pra? Well, I became so hypersensitive to my "pra" that you can now see a clearly delineated, continuous hive in its exact shape where it once was. A Hive Bra, basically. There, I said it. Soooooo, I've been going pra-less the past couple of days, wearing Tyson's big t-shirts and my yoga pants. Super-cute maternity look. I have hives all over my face, so no make-up. (I do have to count my blessings that the hives on my face aren't nearly as bad as most of my other ones...or wait a second, was my skin already so bad that I just can't notice that much of a difference?...could be.) Wearing my hair down is too hot and also gives me hives wherever my hair touches, so I have a constant ponytail/bun. My arms that look like Freddy Krueger's face...if he had the addition of hives. That song "She's a Beauty! One in a Million Girls" is just running through your head right now, isn't it? And now I have Rash-Face as my cute mini-sidekick. Yeah, public's not really ready for us.
Oh shoot, I said this post wasn't going to be about rashes. Maybe next time...