Camera . . . check

Ah, I love being outdoors . . . more than being anywhere indoors.

I am blessed to be in such a naturally beautiful setting as the Willamette Valley but, as you may well have figured out if you’ve read any posts, I absolutely despise the cold; rain is even worse. I’m not in the mountains so snow is rare. I understand the rain and the winter cold is needed for the health of our rain forests and the environment I take advantage of when its not rainy or cold or both. But, when we’re rich and famous, I’m getting a winter home in Hawaii; leave October 15th and return to my log cabin mansion April 15th. That would be perfect, I tell ya. Best of both worlds! All of you are invited to our home in Hawaii, I’ll let ya know when the loan is approved. Of course we’ll have to find our mansion in the valley first and move out of our poor people apartments. Ah, it might be awhile, might as well get a late night snack and relax . . . maybe snooze a little . . . I’ll wake you.

So, I . . . by myself, probably would not venture outside in the winter months, except to get into my car and out of my car to enter another heated facility. Buuuut, I have two boys that adore the outdoors; would freeze to death soaking wet before voluntarily coming inside. I barely remember being the same way.

I was infatuated (still am) with horses and was always always involved with exercising someone’s horses or owning one of my own . . . my parents weren’t wealthy so not too many of my own . . . spendy critters. But horses live outdoors, year around . . . well, the horses I rode did anyway. And most people want you to exercise their horses during the cold months due to their (the owners of the horses) inability to function in the cold and the desire to have an in shape (and well behaved) trail horse in the summer. I had to be outdoors to be around them, ride them, hang all over them, pet them until their winter hair came out involuntarily, feed them to the brink of foundering, and just plain be with them; sometimes just staring at them as they stood, heads hung shoulder level, eyes drooping to sleep despite the nasty drizzle and dipping temperatures. I don’t once remember taking note of how cold it was or rainy. The only thing I remember being aware of is how slick the ground was because I had a horse, multiple times (same horse, hmmm) slide out from underneath me, landing full on his side; lucky I didn’t get pinned underneath! Anyway, a bit paranoid of the rain-soaked ground, still am.

I’m nearing 31 and I am cold constantly, so when I get warm, i.e., put on enough layers, heat the house so when the hubby comes home he can’t breath for a few moments and turns bright red and directly turns the heat down, curl under my down comforter the nights he works his 24 hour shift at the firehouse with my fleece sweatshirt, long pj pants and my foot slippers on that look like stuffed animal tennis shoes . . . and sometimes it still takes me several minutes to stop chattering. When the hot fireman hubby is home, the bed almost gets too hot . . . ok, in more than one way. hee hee. sorry if I grossed you out with that one . . . Couldn’t help myself.

This phenomenon (of being cold, that is) has been heightened since my last pregnancy. Samuel is my second and last child to be born naturally (by choice, still considering adoption later on) and he was born September 12th. Do you know what that birthday insinuates? You guessed it . . . summertime pregnancy from hell . . . so overweight I couldn’t tie my own shoes, much less breathe. It could be a 55 degree evening and I would be sweating bullets of, well, sweat; I think it was sweat . . . I couldn’t drink enough water to keep up the sweating, I don’t think, so I’m not sure what it was. If I moved from a sitting position I would instantly sweat and become out of breath, no matter the temperature or the aide of my husband to launch my 9 month pregnant body off our drooping, overstuffed couch. So you could imagine the ordeal of being home, pretty much alllll the time alone with a 1 and a half year old Tobias; the one who is never out of energy and always into something. I would mention we had 2 year old Jack Russell (still do, well now he’s 3 and a half yrs old) but I basically just ignored his existence by the 7 month time, so that doesn’t play into the amount of energy expended during the 9 month mark. Thankfully hubby loves his dog . . . so he got to go to work with him lots. So since knowing heat like no one should ever know before passing out or dieing . . . my body just doesn’t even want to get close to be that hot again, I suppose, so it stays cold . . . maybe my blood is cold, like a reptile or amphibian sort. Maybe I need a human sized heat rock and special lighting. I won’t eat crickets though.

We were out in it today . . . the weather tricked us and made us comfy in the thought it was warmer than it was and it wasn’t going to drizzle. We trooped out in sweatshirts for warmth and minutes into our afternoon jaunt it started to drizzle and cool off considerably. Ugh!!!!

Tobias in the orange, Sam in the brown overalls and super pooch (Byron) Jack Russell Extraordinare (sp) in the white.

So, I figure you made it through over 900 words of Mother Tucker crap, you deserve some pictures, so here’s some more of today’s tiny outing.

Samuel, running away from me as usual . . . (I don’t remember Tobias doing this) if I even pretend like I’m going to say Samuel’s name to give direction . . . he runs from me. grrr

Ok, I take crap pictures, but its not all my fault . . . the boy never looks up at me whilst he’s running about free of the bondage known, so familiarly, as the indoors. The camera barely caught him at all here.

Oh, there’s his cute face . . . Good grief, he looks just like his daddy! Like the cement burn right under the hairline on his forehead? He falls and just doesn’t catch himself with his hands . . . its like the 4th one he’s had in about 6 weeks. I feel bad but this last time I was like, “uh, not again . . . why don’t you use your hands to catch yourself, instead of your head?” He didn’t care much to answer through his screams of agony and pain. And, yes, I comforted him, put a band aid on it with neosporin. I’m not all mean.

Oh yeah, here’s the other one, he has a face too . . . and he’s not running away. Samuel Caiden!

I believe this is the longest post in Mother Tucker blogging history. I commend you for getting through it without falling asleep or finding something more interesting to do.

God bless!!