Ford's "Small Party"

It usually takes about a week for us to recover from the luxury of having grandparents (read: Jayne) around to pad the daycare schedule, help with bedtime, and (we realize this is totally, ridiculously spoiled) do our laundry. 

In the worst scheduling move ever, we had agreed to attend a charity event all the way out in Moore County Friday night (after a Wednesday Jayne & Ton departure), followed by Ford's birthday party at our house Saturday morning. So we've pretty much been a shitshow ever since. 

For the record, I did tell Ford he could have either a weekend getaway to the Scary Train or a party. But then he said, "Mom, if I have a small party at the Scary Train, can I have a small party with my friends?" Only he said "fwiends," and if you can find me a Mom/ attorney who isn't melted by that level of almost-three-year-old negotiating, well... I'll throw them a party. On Saturday. With a hangover. 

Anyway, that's how Friday night found us like this. Overdressed, at Chick-fil-a; having suffered one babysitter fall-through and a Superman-like change into event attire, on our way to a new drop-in childcare, feeling guilty, and sneaking our kids' chicken nuggets. 

They were none the worse for the wear, though, and we had a terrific date night at "Wine in the Pines," a wine tasting one of our friends had put together as a fundraiser for the Moore County Junior League.

Saturday morning, though, found me downing gas station coffee and racing through Wal Mart for treat bag items and mimosa mixers at 7am. Worth it, but painful-- and we sure missed Jayne.

It was all worth it when Ford's "small party" turned into the hilarious, kid-crazy, mimosa-and-water-gun-fueled event of Handsome Ford's (and half the parents from Wonder Years') dreams. Seth made multiple trips to Food Lion because they "didn't know you wanted us to cook the chicken tenders platter," the bounce house required mid-bounce patching, and I definitely fed an allergic kid a bunch of watermelon; but I remain grateful to The One and Only Natalie Ryan for teaching us how to throw a kid-friendly bash that's a blast for their parents. A good time was definitely had by all,

the playroom will never recover,

Finley represented the "tomboys in princess dress" crowd well,

and Ford was delighted to get to eat junk food with his best friends (while I was glad Natalie had convinced me to get over my aversion to disposable tableware and plastic dropcloths.)

It was a long, exhausting, nap-less day, and Ford turned into a real birthday tyrant by the end of it; but we wrapped it enjoying leftovers and beers and a house that was (barely) no longer a biohazard, in the backyard in stunning spring/summer weather. Plus, these delirious, sugar-crazed two.

Then, this morning, we attempted church. It went as expected:

Still, the almost-summer weather and resignation at having turned over our weekend to the Gods of Birthday Recovery prevailed, and we enjoyed a hike in the woods

an afternoon trip to Lowe's,

the revival of the "hamburger pool,"

and a little work on our baseball skills. 

My favorite from the weekend is this funny "poolside" scene, as we prepare to kick off warm weather season and (hopefully) lots of lazy Sundays like this one.

Ford is THREE! and the not-so-Scary-Train.

Ford has been talking about the "scary train," to anyone who would listen, since Jayne and I took the kids to Tweetsie Railroad last year thinking it would be the time of their lives... and then the train got robbed by bandits and the kids never forgave us. 

Sometime since, Ford decided when he was three he would be big enough to take on the bandits, and Seth obliged him by equipping him with a cap gun for just that purpose. The Scary Train for his birthday (with Grandma & Grandpa, as requested), it was. 

Scary Train Birthday weekend was everything everyone dreamed of. We rented this gorgeous cabin.

We roasted marshmallows,

played cards,

blew out 80,000 candles,

opened presents,

and made a pilgrimage to one of our fave spots, Appalachian Mountain Brewery and the Boone Tot Park (post- rainstorm).

Plus we totally killed it at Tweetsie. 

Both F and F braved their fears of the terrifying train

and I kept my mouth shut about the wild impropriety of Indians with hatchets and redface.

F+F rode rides together, over and over again (hi, cutest thing ever)

 met the Easter Bunny after the cancan dance (because of course)

reveled in having Grandma & Grandpa with them,

and said hi to the 'pacas.

It was an idyllic birthday weekend for our big three year old guy, who was so proud he was no longer scared of the Scary Train.

And although we skipped Easter services, our holiday-prompted long weekend also involved a visit (plus a needs-assembly birthday present) from our beloved Natalie,

"deer hunting" in the yard,

and an epic last night with Grandma & Grandpa at the new Fayetteville Woodpeckers stadium.

That last one has to be the photo of the week. And what a week it was...! Happy birthday to our baby.

April in Arkansas.

Dad's not wrong. the sunsets really do look like this on top of the mountain

and the ol' (new) homestead has a great big porch for enjoying them. And plenty of cold beer in the fridge, if you're willing to ignore the fact that much of it is Natty Light. And Mom's homemade pizza.

The trip there is usually fraught with disaster, though, and this one was no different. It included an overnight at an EconoLodge in Charlotte for Seth and the kids, who left a couple days early for turkey hunting and Ana & Ata time; followed by a flight change to Springfield, rental car SNAFUs, and a midwestern road trip. Then nine hours in the Dallas airport, multiple arrival airport changes, and no luggage for me, thanks to dreadful weekend weather. (Seth correctly points out that at least I had a Centurion Lounge, a far cry from the accommodations the kids and he shared.)

F+F were none the worse for the wear, happy to sport borrowed raingear

and catch snowflakes (!!) on their tongues one day;

swim with decoy turkeys in buckets in the driveway the next.

Classic Arkansas.
The nightmare travel was all worth it for 48 hours with Missy,

Mom's cinnamon rolls,

the bedtime stories of my childhood,

and getting to see these guys turkey hunt with Dad.

The Walters Fam has a knack for squeezing an impossible amount of fun into a small amount of time, and this trip was no exception. We walked miles of Mom & Dad's land and chased down the neighbor's cows,

birdwatched like it was our job (I love this picture of Ata & Ford looking for towhees),

drove the John Deere,

 "sneaked" on turkeys

and made our traditional pilgrimage to the always-charming Terra Studios, home of the bluebird of happiness.

When the weather took a turn for the beautiful, Missy and I discovered that Mom & Dad had been holding out on us with the stunning and uncrowded Horsehead Lake, where we paddled, fished,

acted weird,

roasted hot dogs and marshmallows,

and caught F+F playing with champagne bottles

and had them hold our beer. (And by "our," I mean "mine.") (And in my defense, I just needed to push us off from the shore.) (And to be honest, he spilled it.)

Also, Missy and I followed Mom's advice and nearly went over the dam, and Finley went swimming in all of her clothes. Twice.

While Seth & Missy did what they do best. Managed to catch fish riggghhhht when it was time to clean up.

Missy the travel trooper's weekend fly-in was really a turn-and-burn, and we loved every precious second. The Niemans had an extra day in the Natural State with Ana & Ata, and we spent it, Arkansas-style, in the creek.

April in Arkansas is a great time, and we loved every second of the much-needed family downtime in a place that may be hard to get to but is easy to relax in. Hard to pick a favorite picture, but this silly one of warm weather driveway fun is a fave,

and so is Finley on the tire swing, dressed like a minature Cabela's model.

The real classic, though, includes truck cider on the way to the lake (which exploded everywhere) while Ford sings his favorite song "Drink in My Hand." No kidding.

Yee-haw. Until next April, Arkansas. That's the new jam.