{ somewhere over the cake }

It's official.

The internet is bad for my emotional stability.

See, a few weeks ago, a blogger named Lori, who writes the very fabulous In Pursuit of Martha Points, tweeted about this cake she had made for her daughter's birthday. 

The one she saw made on the Martha Stewart Show by The Whisk Kid's Kaitlin Flannery.

The one that I was now compelled to make.

The Rainbow Cake.

{ insert foreboding music here }

I couldn't get it out of my head. The smooth, white icing. The jewel-toned layers. The fact that between the two components, there is enough butter used to keep your local dairy farm in business for the next year, and also enough butter to make Paula Dean cry.

This was more than a cake.

This was a commitment.

And I was all in.

I picked this past Saturday as Rainbow Cake Day. Never mind that the past week was crazed with Oscar's surgery and recovery, catching up on the house and family after my trip out of town, hosting a little spa party for some of the women in my community, and having some neighbors over to dinner to get some insight on preschool selection.

Never mind that MacGyver kept shooting me the side eye and asking why I just can't ever relax. 

That cake was being made.

And so I began, using The Whisk Kid's cake and frosting recipe.

Including all 19 egg whites and 8 sticks of butter.

I was not quite as precise as my inspiration bakers. When it came down to splitting up the cake batter into six portions for coloring and baking, I relied not on a kitchen scale, but on an age-old technique called "eyeballing it", in which I scooped similarly-sized spoonfuls of batter into bowls until each bowl looked "about right."

It worked.

And so, two at a time, I baked off a total of six thin layers of rainbow-colored cake.

While they cooled, I mixed up the first batch of frosting.

I'm going to go ahead and suggest you actually make three batches, not two, as Kaitlyn suggests. Because it just tastes that good. I honestly could have sat with that bowl and a spatula in the corner and hung out for the rest of the day, completely happy. 

Now you know.

With shaking hands, I filled and stacked my layers.

I think that's when I took my first breath of the day.

I crumb coated (Which MacGyver believes means to coat the cake in graham cracker crumbs. Silly man.) and then mixed up the second batch of swiss meringue buttercream.

To frost the cake for reals.

So innocent, so simple.

And then.

Ka-chow.

This really could not be more beautiful.

Or delicious. Nine out of ten toddlers agree.

It was one of the more tedious cakes I've made, but it was well worth it, and I feel quite proud of myself for pulling it off. It's not a project for the faint of heart (or for those concerned in the least about their arteries), but I'm so glad Lori tweeted me into it. :)

And now. Now I'm just going to do full disclosure. We're mostly moms and parents, right? We're prepared for just about anything. Aren't we?

I'm not going to get too super specific, here, so please follow along. There is A  LOT of gel food coloring in this cake. It's necessary to get those brilliant pops of gorgeous color. 

However, what goes in must come out. So please do not be alarmed when what comes out is slightly more colorful than you might expect.

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{ plan crib-til-college didn't pan out }

It's a bit of a bummer.

I thought I had it all figured out.

Turtle loved his crib. And I loved Turtle in his crib.

We were all very happy with the whole thing.

But lately, Turtle has been putting his leg up on the crib rail. He's been applying just the slightest bit of weight shift.

And that spurred us into action.

Today, after lunch, we picked up a travel pillow and a pool noodle.

And after nap, MacGyver removed the front of Turtle's crib, to reveal the toddler bed conversion.

We shoved the pool noodle under the sheets along the open edge, to create a lip to help prevent him from easily falling out.

We set it up, under Turtle's supervision. Original Monkey, Replacement Monkey and Elephant got to stay. The rest of his menagerie was relegated to shelf by the window. Whatever the big boy wants, right?

So he had his dinner, and his bath, and then we read a few books in his new bed.

And then we tucked him in with his animals, kissed him good night, wished him sweet dreams and went out the door.

He cried for about six minutes. Then he settled down for a while. He cried a few more minutes around 8:30 or so. Hopefully, he does well through the rest of the night. Fingers crossed. :)


Morning Update: SUCCESS!!!! We had one more wake up at about 2:30am. Apparently, Original Monkey had taken a flying leap over the side of the pool noodle. It took a moment, but finally, Turtle stuck his little hand into the abyss, pulled OM back to safety and went back to sleep. Whew.


Next challenge? Today's naptime. Wish us luck!

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{ story time }

I want to use this post to address my incredibly innovative neighbors.


They implemented a story time at one of our local churches, and over the past year, it has grown into a really amazing hour.


We have been missing out, simply because Turtle went through a rather long phase of needing to nap at precisely the same time story time started. He's an even-keeled kid, but when he gets overtired, well... Let's just say I prefer not to have him overtired.


They start off with some music, to get the little ones excited. 


And then two or three books get read.

More music.


Turtle's favorite part is snack time. Goldfish make everything ok.


And then it's project/craft time. Which is my favorite part.


My neighbors find some super cute projects on a few different websites. Last week, they talked about going back to school, and passed around yellow construction school buses with cutout wheels and passengers for the kids to color and glue. We got to take home an "S" worksheet.

And this week, we discussed rain, by dipping a cotton ball into a container of water, and squeezing it to simulate precipitation.


Turtle was a huge fan of the bus and of the container of water. 

Not so much of the wet cotton ball. He kept picking it out of his container and tossing it on the mat, saying "Ew. Garbage." 

Eh. You win some. You lose some.

It's a wonderful way to spend a morning. Thanks to our awesome neighbors for giving us such a great and fun learning experience.

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{ someone's feeling better }

And thank goodness for that.


Oscar has been a little trooper, bravely devouring swallowing his rations of wet food, resting and submitting to early bedtimes on the couch. Such a good patient.


It's been tough on the little guy, not being allowed countless hours roaming the back yard, in search of delicacies (mulch, grass runners, fish dropped by careless stork/heron-type birds, etc, wink wink), and having us dote on his every whimper and tail wag.


He's adjusting. 


He's also found a new hidey-hole.

You know. Because he needs a secure place to nap.

Please feel free to tell me I have the world's most spoiled pugs. I deserve it.

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{ apologizing in advance }

It doesn't happen often, but I am off.

I don't want to say it's a matter of writer's block, exactly. More like exhaustion. Brought on by a whirlwind trip, a pug crisis and starting this week behind the proverbial eight-ball.


I'm not a fan of being off. It's not a great state of being.


I could talk about my trip, which was wonderful. I loved seeing my friends and their families and some of my family. With the exception of talking to MacGyver on the phone for updates on Oscar, and asking for prayers and giving brief updates on a few social networking sites, I was pretty unplugged. 


And it was nice.

But it's hard to get back in the saddle. So I'm going to take it easy this week. I'm not going to force a blog post. I'm going to share a little bit about my day, and focus on getting out from behind that irritating eight-ball.


It's Monday, and I'm a Bravo addict, so I'm watching Real Housewives of New Jersey, while MacGyver and the pugs snooze on the couch. This particular Housewives incarnation makes me incredibly uncomfortable because of the unreal level of drama and crazy involved. Who behaves this way? Really?

I just laughed too hard at a trailer for Going the Distance with Justin Long and Drew Barrymore. Because I love Justin Long and I think some of the scenes seem hilarious. I hope it's good.

I read a book called Life After Yes by Aidan Donnelly Rowley over the past few days, and while it's not my particular genre, and the dialogue was ridiculously contrived, I enjoyed it.

I am looking forward to this week's events: story time, a playdate, a mini spa party and dinner with friends.

I am NOT looking forward to doing more research on preschools, grocery shopping and getting caught up on cleaning.


I have some red tape work to do and that's unfortunate. But it must be done.


I have also decided that we need a House Assistant a la Jeff Lewis of Flipping Out (I told you I was a Bravo addict). House Assistants mix and serve attractive dirty martinis during household cocktail hours and handle the peculiar personalities of pets. I think a House Assistant would be an invaluable asset to the Three Pugs & A Baby domicile, and I hope MacGyver agrees to go in that direction. Soon.


I have a lot of baking to do this week, which is both exciting and daunting. On the list, pug cupcakes and a rainbow cake. Stay tuned.


And, really, that's all there is.


Tomorrow, I should be back on my game. Thanks for indulging my extended break. I'll make it up to you soon.

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{ highs and lows }

Ironically, and sometimes unfortunately, you can't have one without the other.


This weekend was intended to be a high. I packed myself in my car with my skinny jeans and some adorable cookies to pay a visit to one of my best friends, her new husband and her even newer baby.


Ah. The best-laid plans.


I arrived Thursday night. I got to love on sweet Baby J before he went to bed. We ate dinner and cracked open a bottle of pinot.


M (the aforementioned new husband) went to bed, while N and I stayed up chatting.


We finished the bottle of pinot.


It was almost 2am before my head hit the pillow.


Mem'ries.

I lounged in bed til almost 9:30am. I was awake, but it was the first time in a long time that I didn't have to actually move. It was such a strange sensation, but so deliciously enjoyable, I almost didn't know what to do with myself.


I reveled.


And then my phone rang.


It was MacGyver, telling me that he was bringing Oscar to the vet. That he had been up all night, unable to lay down, and whimpering. No one had slept, and DH was worried about our 10 year old first pug.

Obviously, so was I. Oscar is my first baby.


The first update was routine. Dr. R thought it might be a slipped disk and was taking x-rays. Over lunch at a food court Chick-Fil-A, N and I discussed Oscar's overall health. How he is prone to bladder stones, but we do our best to manage it and try to keep surgeries to a minimum, especially considering his age. That he has arthritis and awful hip displaysia, but injections of Adequan have been keeping him as spry as possible (considering that Oscar was never really spry).


The second update came quickly. The x-rays revealed that Oscar had ingested a toothpick, pin or needle. They were going to have to operate immediately and remove the item, all the while holding out hope that Oscar would be strong enough to withstand not only the anesthesia but the possibility of internal puncture by the sharp object.


Dr. R assured me that the procedure itself would be quick: about 20 minutes, provided he could get directly to the item. He told me that there were also some bladder stones brewing and he could remove them at the same time, while they were inside, to prevent a later operation. I agreed and told him to take care of my baby.


And then the wait began.


There was no news until about 4:30.


Because of the complications.


The item? A sewing needle. And thread. A lot of thread. All wound through him. The procedure ended up taking 90 minutes. Dr. R wasn't able to get any of the stones because he didn't want to keep Oscar under any longer than he did. Towards the end, Oscar's little heart stopped and it took Dr. R a little bit to restart it. MacGyver told me words like "dicey", "touch and go" and "scary" were used. 

Also, there is (still) a huge risk of infection because the needle made a tiny puncture in our puglet's stomach.



Not. Comforting.

We have no idea where he got the needle. I haven't had the sewing machine or sewing items out since the beginning of July, and MacGyver did sew a button a few weeks ago, but that needle is accounted for. Horrifically upsetting, especially considering that Oscar is partially blind and can't find a steak two inches in front of his nose, but yet manages to consume items that are likely to do him in.

(Needle on right inserted into gauze; thread on left)


Because Oscar's oxygen levels were good, he was allowed to go home with MacGyver that night, with a promise to return to the vet at 9 on Saturday for monitoring. He spent the night, whimpering and possibly hallucinating (from the intensity of the pain meds). 


He looked like this.

A sore, disoriented, confused pug.


Saturday morning, MacGyver reported that Oscar was a little peppy and showed some appetite. He dropped him off at the vet and we waited for news.


The report? 


Better than everyone expected in the wake of the "dicey" surgery. His liver and kidney are clear (a concern due to all the thread). There was some fluid in his lungs that had gone down. He spent the day on an IV for hydration, but responded well to food (wet food, so Oscar thinks he's won the lottery) and his incision looks great.


I came home today, and Oscar hustled down the driveway on his own to welcome me. 


What relief.

We had a great night. Turtle, Molly and Bentley are being extremely considerate of him. He's eaten, taken his medication and his sleeping soundly and comfortably on the couch.


He is not out of the woods yet. We're still watching for infection and he needs to really take it easy for the next few weeks.


Thanks for your continued prayers and support. We are blessed to have such an amazing support network of friends and family around us, and hopefully everything will be alright. Our pugs are members of our family and times like these are terrifying and devastating to us. 


I'll keep you all posted on his status. We appreciate all the good thoughts.

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{ play ball }

Although we are over 1000 miles away from Yankee Stadium, we are still quite lucky to have a minor league baseball team within driving distance to get our baseball fix.

It's a great venue, relatively small and on the newer side. It's comfortable and quiet, as far as ballparks go.

Which means it's great for family time.

Turtle is a particular fan of the smorgasbord available to him. Normally, we don't get a lot of treats, but game days are special days, so he got to enjoy a little more.

I love this picture, because he's two, and he's sitting in Seat 2 (get it???). It has nothing to do with him nomming on a mustard-drenched pretzel.

The mascot, Southpaw swung by. Turtle, proving that chivalry is, in fact, dead, hid behind me and told me "Mommy, go!" I "went" so far as to take a picture.

And then sadly contemplated the fact that if a giant dog caused such hesitation, perhaps Disney was better off left for next year. Sigh.

Turtle, via maternal genetics, has a thing for popcorn. 

I can't blame him. 


At some point during the 5th inning, the clouds rolled in and the heavens opened.

Which was a shame because the home team pitcher was on his way to a no-hitter.


Also a shame? The fact that I got rained on. It's one of my least favorite occurrences.


While the boys stuck it out in the seats (covered, but there was a definite mist from the field and a leak from above), I wandered around the concourse, pretending to be artsy.

And Turtle attempted to master ice cream on a stick.

Despite this great shot, he did not walk away from that encounter victoriously.

The game was called, but we hung around, trying to occupy ourselves, because they had a performance planned for post game.

Whiplash, the Cowboy Monkey was going to show his moves.


I assure you, it was one of the creepiest things I have seen in a long time.


A spider monkey, dressed in rodeo gear, clinging to the back of some herding dog, chasing sheep around the tarp-covered baseball diamond. Honestly, I was terrified that the sheep were going to get hurt. There was also some fear that the rather elderly, cane-wielding trainer/cowboy dude would meet a similar end.

It was all very strange. 

I guess I can't fathom a time where I might think to myself "Gosh, it would be really cool to stick a monkey on a dog and see if they'll chase some livestock around. Let's take it on the road."

Clearly, I lack vision.

Despite the rain and the creepy monkey, we had a blast. I still don't think Turtle's ready for a football game (or Disney World, for that matter), but we're working up to it. 

Read more...

{ once upon a twitter }

Back when I was a kid (in an age sometime between cave drawings and when benetton was cool the first time), social networking was something done in restaurants and bars. 

There was no Facebook or Twitter. Hell, there wasn't even an internet.

I remember chat rooms when I was in my early teens. And, oh, how high-tech they were(n't).

But now, everything is so easily accessible, a touchstroke of the keyboard away.

It drives MacGyver crazy, because he is a firm believer in phone calls and face-to-face relationships.

But I love my online relationships. I have "met" amazing people from all over the world. People to whom I can relate and with whom I have amazing and insightful conversations. It's really astounding.

Even more astounding?

I have met people who live like 20 minutes away from me. People who have found my blog and who may recognize details. People who might post on a mutual, local friend's Facebook wall, with whom I already had an established Twitter relationship.

{ cue creepy animatronic dolls singing "It's A Small World After All" } 

A few months ago, I "met" a Tweep. We @'d each other a wee bit and she volunteered to write a fabulous blog post for me. I offered to return the favor.

And then, as I was posting a "Hey, how are you?" on another friend's Facebook wall, I saw this particular Tweep, posting on the same wall.


And I had to ask. How did they know each other?


Turns out, they are real-life buddies, who do playdates and everything. And live in my general vicinity.


Shut the front door.


It works out great, because they are both amazing women, bloggers and mommies and we have a lot in common.

And thanks to that crazy internet, I am lucky to have met a fabulous new friend (even if I didn't get to go to Blogher).

So here's me, with E of The Writer Revived. 

Cheers to new friends!

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{ daddy fail }

We are equal opportunity here at three pugs & a baby, so today, I'm treating you to the shenanigans that occurred first thing Monday morning at our house.


My alarm went off at 7:15. I babysit at 8am on Mondays, so I like to be able to get up and get the pugs out and fed and Turtle up and started on breakfast before my charge arrives.


At 7:30 (hey, I said I *like* to be able to do those things. Not that I was consistently successful at it), I heard through the video monitor "UH OH! MONKEY! Monkey's all wet! Monkey needs a tubby! Monkey needs a shower!"


Which would lead me to believe that Turtle had leaked through his pull up and Monkey had fallen victim.


It was a reasonable conclusion.


Wrong. But reasonable.

The leakage was, in fact, poop. Awful, terrible poop.

And Turtle was waiting for me, arms outstretched, little face screwed up in concern.


"MONKEY!"


The kid has a soft spot for his stuffed animals.


So. 


I grab Monkey, and also Elephant, Replacement Monkey and Kiss the Build-a-Bear Puppy, who had also been violated by the explosion, along with an armload of sheets, and bolt, yelling for MacGyver.


"I need help! Get him in the shower!"


I assumed that MacGyver would register the crisis, rise from bed and transfer our child to the shower as requested. 

Another reasonable conclusion.


I spray down stains, start the wash, stick the two awake pugs outside, grab a garbage bag wipes and haul arse back up the stairs.


Where I find Turtle, standing in the middle of the loft at the start of a trail of poop beans, unmoving in his dilemma.

And MacGyver is ....

... In Turtle's closet. Selecting a shirt.

Right.

So I grab Turtle and run for the restroom with him, while MacGyver, preoccupied with wardrobe selection, notices poop beans and follows me. 

People. I cannot make this stuff up.


Apparently, despite my frantic rushing around and instructional calls, MacGyver failed to realize we were on High Alert. 


Great.

Let's just say I left him with the fun task of scrubbing Turtle down, and subsequently scrubbing down the shower. Because it was the least he could do.

I handled the Turtle, the carpet and the pajamas.


Sigh. What a morning.

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{ mommy fail }

And oh, what a doozy it was.

Just when I think I have it all together, a day like Sunday happens and it leads me to believe that I am lucky to make it through the days with my head attached.

The plan.


Get up. Have breakfast. Send Turtle and MacGyver to pick up a birthday present while I did some things around the house. Go to birthday party. Give aforementioned gift. Eat cake. Go to minor league baseball game. Pray for car nap. Come home. Put Turtle to bed. Watch True Blood-Hung-Entourage. Sleep.


It was elementary.


So we start going, and make it to the birthday party. 


We removed Turtle from the carseat.


And he was soaking wet.


For a quick moment, we hoped it was water from an upturned sippy cup.


It was not.


So.


I have to walk into a rather large first birthday, with my sensitive and embarrassed child clutched in my arms, approach the hostess humbly and apologetically, and ask if I might interrupt her hostessing long enough to use her laundry room.


You know. Because I haven't carried a change of clothes since Turtle was approximately 6 months old.

Dear Earth,


I am most distressed that you did not find it necessary at that point to open up and swallow me whole. I see I can't count on you and will have to proceed accordingly. Kthxbai.


Me.

Now, I know you're thinking that it sounds like everything worked out well, but that's because you've forgotten the interesting fact that Turtle is a prude.


He despises being undressed. 


Which is another reason why potty training is going so slowly.


So the poor child had to wander around this party, miserable and sad, in his little diapered bottom, because his mommy lacked the foresight to pack extra shorts.


Things improved when his shorts came out of the dryer, but the damage was done and the shame pall had been cast.


Sigh.


At least there was cake.

Perhaps, someday, he will forgive me.

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{ boys in hats }

Alternately titled, Monkey See, Monkey Do.

We're going into a busy weekend, but MacGyver and Turtle are ready to roll. With visor power, of course. 

Happy Friday!

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{ a post about me. and cake. don't forget cake. }

So I don't do this. 


Like ever.


But something happened a few weeks ago and I need to share.


In case you didn't know.  I bake. It's just a little something I like to do. Sometimes, I post my cake-y creations here or on Facebook, or on my gallery blog.


In fact, just the other day, I made this cake for a friend's husband's birthday. As you know, I am a die-hard Hurricanes fan, so it was a particularly difficult task. I powered through, though.

That's hand-cut fondant, people.  Good times.


And stay tuned, because I am planning on making a Dolphins, a Jaguars and a Hurricanes cake this season. Wheee.

But I love to bake. And I love cake batter and cookie dough and frosting. Ironically, I do not love actual cake and cookies. I eat them, but there is no love.


Anyhoo. The point is that a friend of mine contacted me about a friend of hers, who is the editor of a local magazine. She had shown him some of my work and he wanted to do a feature. 


On me.


Cue the anxiety attack.

Basically, it's a monthly, tabloid-sized paper with a rack circulation of 6500, distributed to local places, featuring local news, politics, bards, restaurants, people and talent.


Once a month, they try to do a feature on an artist.


And this month, I was it.


I know. It's crazy.


Last Friday, we went to lunch and picked up some copies. There were FOUR pages, dedicated to my cupcakes and cakes. FOUR! Can you imagine?


Here are some photos. 

Like a mention on the cover.

I'm still so blown away.

So there you have it. Today's show and tell.


I promise to get back to more fun things - like Turtle and MacGyver and the pugs - tomorrow!

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{ represent }

Football season is so close I can taste it.


It tastes of wings and Bud Light.

Anyway, it's about time to wave the flag. 

And Turtle does an awesome job of representing.

Yes. I drew shorts on him. We're potty training and what he was wearing wasn't blog-appropriate.

We've got some Canes over here! And it's going to be a fabulous season!

Turtle says so.

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{ nature, part two }

Welcome back to our second installment of the Great Ichetucknee Springs Adventure.


When last you saw us, we were bundling up our tubes and boarding the tram back to the parking lot, where we planned to change, fire up a (charcoal) grill and enjoy a little picnic lunch.


Amazing how hungry a morning of tubing can make you.


The menfolk got the grill going,

and the kids started chowing down. 

Turtle apparently has some sort of hollow leg, because the amount of food he put away yesterday was frightening. 

C and H were very good at sharing.

After lunch, the little ones started playing. Turtle came over to me and said "They silly. I wanna be silly!"

And silliness ensued.

A group shot of the moms and little ones.

And here I offer up official cookies for the trip. They're little inner tubes. Aren't they cute?

I love these shots of the girls enjoying.

MacGyver and his little boy.

We had such a great time and we're excited to do it again soon!

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{ in which I go out in nature, part one }

This weekend, we joined some wonderful mommy friends and their families for a fabulous excursion.


Tubing at Ichetucknee Springs.


It was a central-ish location to meet up and it sounded like a great way to spend a day: tubing on a natural spring with the kids, and then wrapping up with a BBQ/picnic.


Sure, there was that whole, pesky "nature" thing. But more on that later.

We dragged our arses out of bed popped up at the early hour of 4:30am. Only 750 people are allowed on the river at a time, so we wanted to make sure we didn't get shut out.

Three of us caravan-ed to Ichetucknee Springs to catch up with our fourth, meeting at a Starbucks on the route while it was still dark out.


It involved driving through some very "rustic" areas. 


On one of the roads, I saw this.

It's a bear crossing sign.

You know. For bears. To cross. 


I kind of started doubting the merits of the excursion at this point. Then I remembered the little tidbit I heard years ago, while discussing survival tips over beer at Hooters, which states that if you run into a bear, you should play dead. Or pee on yourself. I forget which rule applies to which kind of bear, so I imagine that if you do both, you should have all your bases covered.

Even more exciting, I saw a real-live cowboy, riding a galloping horse, rassling his cattle on a farm. Now THAT was cool.


Two hours later, we pulled over at a roadside vendor to pick up our tubes and assorted flotation devices.

The vendors tied our selections on to our cars and we headed off.


We met up with the rest of our party, applied our sunscreen, gathered our things in ziploc bags, and headed off down the trail, toting our children and our tubes.


As the clouds rolled in and thunder rumbled. In the not-so-far distance.


MacGyver and Turtle survey the scene.

While the kids dipped their toes into the icy 72 degree water, our friend A took charge and tied all the tubes and boats together with twine. and rope. 


And then we all hopped aboard.


Pretty much the second we got afloat, the heavens opened. 


So now, nature is touching me and I'm wet. Two of my favorite states of being. Not.

{Also. A confession. I am rather certain that for a period of 15 minutes or so, I was mooning whatever was underneath me. Tubes are not exactly fantastic for bathing suit placement, and I couldn't exactly adjust anything. The fish will never tell, but I do have a bite in a compromising place, and I'll be darned if I can figure out what it's from.}

Turtle was not amused.


Do you see his face right here?

He is thinking: Really, Mom? Really? I could be home right now, with a sippy, watching Shrek. And eating Teddy Grahams. Also? I'm working on a nasty poop for you. 


But once the clouds cleared, and we exhausted the topic that the water was too cold for snakes and alligators, it was really quite beautiful.

Yes. Those are my toes.



Turtle spent some of the trip in my lap.

And some in a little boat.

Our friends K and A with their son B.

S with her daughter C.

And our new friend J with her little H.

Turtle found my sunglasses in our ziploc bag,and insisted on wearing them. So glamorous.

By the way. That sign behind him? It's a warning that we are approaching our "last point of exit." Interestingly enough, that did not seem to mean that the river stopped. Just that we needed to find a way to fight the current and no longer be on the river.


I'm not sure what I think of that.
 

For 45 minutes, we just chilled and talked and laughed. The kids looked for turtles and pirates. They didn't find any.


It was a really amazing experience and we would all do it again in a heartbeat. As long as the weather holds. 


And the snakes stay away.


Stay tuned for Part 2, in which there will be more pictures of the wee ones and cookies. Lots of cookies.

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