Yellowstone

These past few years it seems like I hear the word Yellowstone, the popular ranching drama set in present-day Montana, at least once a day.  I read articles concerning countless spinoffs from online news sources, see shirts or feedcaps with the Yellowstone brand or hear someone utter a popular phrase from the show.  Normally something regarding a train station, which, to be honest I still don't understand but maybe someday I'll finally get to watch some of those earlier seasons and know what is going on.  

Also, while we're on the subject I wish I had a nickel for every time I saw photos of couples dressed up as popular characters Rip and Beth for Halloween last year.  Clever?  Yes.  Humorous?  Certainly.  Original?  Not even close, although they and hundreds of other middle aged white women with faux fur coats and a bearded significant other looked amazing.  

But I digress.  I have enjoyed the handful of episodes we've watched and small snippets we've seen online.  The one liners are humorous and the drama looks intense.  A common complaint I've heard among the agriculture and rural community; however, is the lack of a believable plot.  "That sort of stuff just doesn't really happen."  Fair enough.  I can't tell you the last time I beat a rattlesnake to death with my boot while my dad was off chasing someone down through the desert (or something like that).  I find those plot lines entertaining and an escape from reality.  

I, too, would argue that Yellowstone is not an accurate portrayal of agriculture lifestyle, but for entirely different reasons.  

Can you guess?

THERE IS NO SECRETARY.  

Correct me if I'm wrong because we've not seen many episodes, but I have yet to see a haggard middle aged woman who desperately needs to brush her hair and teeth lurking in the shadows, chasing down the boss to sign papers, calling the vet clinic for health papers to ship cattle, endlessly filing VFDs and making sure the truck mileage matches the loads that were shipped last week to the yard.  You never hear the soft, steady utterance of curse words under her breath as she resubmits dig claims, makes appointments that will undoubtedly be rescheduled countless times and trades emails with other secretaries of several businesses they are connected to in various states across the nation at 6am on Monday mornings.  Perhaps I've missed the episode where aforementioned secretary rearranges her day to haul hay or cattle or help process calves or run for parts or buck bales.  Tell me there aren't at least six seasons worth of compelling stories RIGHT THERE.  I can't think of much better. 

When I see that part of the show I'll agree that it is more realistic.  Until then, for myself and nearly every other ranch wife in the country, it shall serve as nothing more than an entertaining escape on Sunday evenings after the kids go to bed.  

Get Ready

Last night while sitting at the supper table I heard that oft heard, oft dreaded phrase once again uttered.

"Well, get ready" he said.  "It's fixin' to get busy around here for the next six weeks."

Really?  Like the last six weeks haven't been busy?  Or the six before that?!

I rolled my eyes when I heard this.  It's one of my least attractive qualities and one of the reasons I wear sunglasses so often.  As my eyes turned towards the heavens; however, my gaze landed upon a book that has been sitting on my bookshelf for years:

This one - she gets me.  We're kindred spirits born 125ish years apart.  We've both had to bust our tails on the same soil.  Both probably rocked babies and wondered where in the world our husband was at and when he was coming home.  I saw the pooch in her belly and wondered if she was 4 months pregnant or just had acquired a permanent 'shelf' like mine after having 3 kids in 3.75 years.  It's not lost on me the countless ways my life is filled with more creature comforts than hers, but I appreciate the biggest commonality we share - we're both just trying to raise good kids and eek out a living.

I wondered if she breathed a huge sigh of relief when someone else offered to take her kids to the nursery during church so she could have 30 minutes a week without being in charge of someone else (but let's be honest, she probably didn't) and then I wondered what she would have done for self care, a phrase that's become so over-used and abused that I've come to despise.  Truth be told, we're probably looking at it in this photo.  She got 30 minutes to herself and decided to pick up cow chips for firewood and she was relishing in the quiet until someone interrupted her solitude and asked to take a photo.  I feel you, girl.

"Are you listening?  Hellllooooo?" my husband asked as I snapped back to reality.  I didn't realize how many moments I'd been lost in my thoughts with this prairie woman.

"We've got it.  We're ready.  Bring on the next six weeks of haying and shipping and fair and life."

Now that I've 're-found' this book on my shelf I imagine that I'll be glancing upward at her quite often for a little inspiration.

The Long Game

It's that time of year again; the time when our alarm goes off at 5:30 each morning and our heads hit the pillow absolutely exhausted at 10 each night.

It's the time of year when I cook as much as possible on the grill so I don't have to turn on the oven and heat up the house because we refuse to turn on the air conditioner just yet.

It's the time of year when the boys wake up at 5:45 and barrel down the stairs for the day.  They see the sun shining through their window and know that they need to get in gear.

It's the time of year to pick cherries and then enjoy the fruits of your labor.  Literally.  (One of the few times literally has actually been used correctly.)

It's the time of year that we don't see much of my husband and I'm a single parent 90% of the time.  This is getting better as the kids get older but it's still me the majority of the time.

It's the time of year when we do get an occasional evening to see Wesley and spend some time as a family fishing together.

It's the time of year when we spend lots of time in the garden and flower beds and I try to incorporate science and life lessons in here and there.

It's a very fulfilling life, a very tough life and hopefully one day a very rewarding life.  When things get too hard sometimes Wesley and I will sit at the supper table long after the dishes have been put away and make sure we are still on the same page with our goals.  We make sure that 'not raising little assholes' is at the top of our list, followed by a bevy of other things.  We try to find the balance between providing a nice life for the kiddos and creating little monsters that don't understand what work is.  We want them to realize food doesn't just come from a grocery store, money doesn't grow on trees and hard work is worth it.  I don't know that we always get that balance correct, but I hope the majority of the time this is the case.

I appreciate so many things about these kiddos.

I love that they enjoy simple things in life.  We went on vacation and the thing they enjoyed the most was paddle boating as a family on the lake each morning, not the flashing lights and hoopla found everywhere else.

I love that they enjoy hard work.  They LIVE to work calves and help me in the wood shop.  Kenyon jumped in the alleyway to push baby calves one day, got kicked several times and was so proud to show me the bruises from his hard work.

I love that they are content to play for hours outside.  They can make their own entertainment without screen time.

I love that they enjoy grocery shopping with me and are starting to understand coupons and sales, or at least understand that they are of major importance to our family.  This has lead to several conversations about price as well as value.

I love the big picture, hard questions that Kenyon is starting to ask.... most of the time.  Sometimes I find myself tiptoeing as delicately as possible.  Still answering the question but in a roundabout way.  Not much gets by him and therefore he's got THOUSANDS of questions that need answered.  Every. Single. Day.

I read a quote once that really stuck with me.  If you raise your kids then one day you'll be able to enjoy and spoil your grandkids.  If you spoil your children you'll end up raising your grandkids.  This part of our lives is absolutely exhausting, but we keep this quote in the forefront of our minds and tell ourselves that someday it will all be worth it.  Not saying it's a guarantee, but at least we're trying to build a strong foundation for the long haul.

I Have a Favor to Ask

I feel bombarded these days by buzzwords and catchphrases: clean eating, organic, non-GMO, hormone free.  The list goes on and on.  Companies, restaurants and consumers seem to feel more powerful and self-righteous when they throw out these phrases regarding their food choices.  I understand that much of this stems from a need to feel in control of what you're eating.  I'm a parent.  Trust me, I understand the battle for control in some aspect of life.

Much of the time I, as part of the 2% of the nation's population that produces food, in turn feel vilified.  How dare I use a chemical like dihydrogen monoxide in the production of beef and crops?  (Did any of you catch that?  You may know this potentially lethal chemical by it's more common name: water.)  I wonder if I am a monster for judiciously providing sick animals with antibiotics because the ominous commercials on television indicate that I am.

My plea to advertisers, to companies, to consumers, is to stop with the fear mongering.  Please don't encourage anyone to feel morally superior because they paid more money for a product that is equally nutritious and safe as its conventionally grown counterpart.  Please don't assume that wikipedia or google nutrition statistics hold themselves to the same standards as hundreds of peer reviewed journal articles and countless studies regarding food quality and safety.

Please don't misunderstand; I don't mind if you choose an alternative path when feeding your family.  I've nothing against vegans, vegetarians, pescetarians, pollotarians or any other alternative diet choice.  I do; however, draw the line when 'facts' are presented to justify this choice.

I don't like hormones in my meat.
Hormones are found in all living things - both plants and animals.

I only eat organic because I don't want any chemicals from pesticides.
Pesticides can still be sprayed on organic produce.

I don't want antibiotics in my meat.
There are withdrawal periods for all medicines administered.  There are never antibiotics in your meat, or milk.  Ever.

I hear these types of phrases all too often, and I hear advertisements that cater to these exact misconceptions.  It is shameful.  I do believe it is possible to promote your chosen food or lifestyle without cutting down another.

For example, I do not like ice cream.  I don't skew data on nutritional studies to suggest that it causes cancer, nor do I write bitter diatribes against the ice cream industry and those who support it.  Do I feel morally superior to those that eat ice cream?  Certainly not.  Do I create a fictional narrative that supports my agenda against ice cream?  Again, no.  This all sounds ludicrous, and yet it happens every single day against those of us in conventional agriculture.

It is my hope that the tide will soon turn and it will become passe to think that 'food with a conscious' or 'food as it should be' or any of these other elitist type phrases are acceptable.  Myself, I look forward to the day when it becomes commonplace for everyone to simply say 'safe food for all' and 'enough food for all'.

We Are Big Ag

Bear with me today, friends.  I feel a need to get out my soapbox.

I try very hard to keep most of this blog light.  I like to show the human side of agriculture in my writing.  Yes, I could spout facts and figures all day to the masses, but studies have shown that the human connection has just as great, if not greater, an impact upon the masses than all the infographics in the world.

I could tell you that raising cattle or crops today is more efficient than years past; that we produce more beef and feed on less land mass while using less water and creating a smaller carbon footprint.  I could explain all of this until I'm blue in the face.

Would it make a difference?  Sometimes I wonder.

You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him think drink.

I recently spoke with someone who watched a food related documentary and then proceeded to inform me about all the ills of the world that were caused by our hideous food supply, including but not limited to the beef industry and 'big ag'.

I cannot even begin to list all the inaccuracies that were presented to me regarding the documentary.  That is another lengthy post for another day.  The other part that stuck out to me was the negative connotation regarding the beef industry and big ag.

That is me.  That is my family.  We are big ag.

We bust our butts to grow a great product and then we eat that product just the same as everyone else.  We don't keep the good stuff in the back for ourselves and sell consumers a load of junk.  We create a safe, sustainable, quality product that we are proud to eat and proud to share with the world.

The next time you think about big ag, think about this little guy that just crawled off a tractor and baler with his dad and is terribly filthy and needs to nap.  Greater than 96% of farms and ranches are family owned.  That means all over the country there are kiddos learning the ropes from parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles.  They are riding around in feed pickups, on tractors, four wheelers or horseback and learning how to feed the rest of the world, even those that seem to despise us.

The next time hear someone complain about our food industry, make sure they remember all the little ones that make up big ag.

Life Lately: June Edition

Warning: This post is a jumble of random.  Why?  Because the kids are due to wake just about any second.  It's not that I don't enjoy writing blogs anymore; rather, the opposite is quite true.  I'd love to write each and every day.  I start hundreds of witty blogs in my head because there are just so many things that y'all NEED TO KNOW.  I have some life altering info in my tiny little brain, I promise, and your life is just not as complete without it.....  Or something like that.  Also, I tell myself these days that I can't start a blog post until all my chores are done.  (Thanks to my parents for beating that little gem into my brain as a youngster.)  Guess what?  MY CHORES ARE NEVER DONE.  So I'm being a rebel this morning and writing a post even though there is a stack of laundry behind me on the couch that weighs more than all my kiddos put together.  Okay, not really, but you get my drift. 

Do y'all look this punchy when you go grocery shopping?  I seriously doubt it.  Kenyon loves his boots we bought at a friend's garage sale.  Extra style points for the hand on hip as he strutted down every aisle.  You should see the smiles and hear the comments he gets from folks, especially old men.  He's a pretty big deal.

I don't believe there is a caption needed for this.  I have recently discovered the beauty of memes and try to sprinkle them in casual conversation where applicable.

A recent ranch rodeo with cousin Kade.  Notice his punchy boots as well.  The style game is strong with these two.  And John was just hot, so he got a pass on wearing tall tops that night. 

Best food label EVER.  I wish this food label were found on almost all products.  As a side note, please refrain from using words like 'Non-GMO' and 'Organic' around me if you value our friendship.  Not wanting to start a lengthy debate this morning, but simply put I don't feel that they are necessary.  End. Of. Story.

Reading is one of our preferred indoor activities, next to mortal combat and cage fighting.  On hot days like these we get up and do our outside activities while it is still decent outside and then spend lots of time inside coloring, playing with stickers, wrestling and reading. 

Logging some miles in a lovely little evening walk on a decent day.  They love to run down the road and play in the feedbunks. 

Do you see this lovely little lily in the photo below?  I have had a blog post in my mind for years.  

When the lilies bloom it reminds me of the anniversary of me moving back here after grad school so many years ago.  That first day back after unpacking I drove a feed pickup to town and loaded up with groceries and cleaning supplies for our little house that was so desperately in need of both.  I spent quite a lot of money while purchasing all these supplies.  On the way home I stopped alongside a ditch and picked a beautiful bouquet of bright orange ditch lilies and had them sitting in a pretty mason jar on our kitchen table when Wesley got home that day from shipping.  

He saw the receipt of how much money I had spent that morning and then seeing the flowers on the table tipped him past his breaking point.  He asked how much I spent on those 'damn flowers' and I told him something ridiculous like $60.  His fits of rage were comical at that point because we were young and soooooo in love.  *cue eye roll*  We still giggle every year when I pick a bouquet of lilies and every year Wesley asks me just how much money I spent on them. 

Not going to lie, I am not Mary Poppins.  Some days are better than others around here. 

We are big fans of consistency around here.  We're not big fans of genetic variation either.  Behold, a photo of child #3...

... and #1.  (Photo of child #2 not readily available at press time.)

There is never a dull moment when these three are awake.  You'd think I would be skinnier from running ragged, but alas, I am not.

 A bubble machine.  Get one of these in your life immediately if you have small children.  And either have gallons of bubble juice purchased or know the recipe to make homemade bubble juice.  This is entertainment for kids and adults alike.

A nearby town has a summer reading program for toddlers THAT ISN'T SCHEDULED DURING NAPTIME and we enjoy participating in it.  My heart sinks when I learn of a really interesting program I feel the boys would enjoy and then read that it will take place in a few days at 3pm.  Sigh... ain't happenin', y'all.  Our nap time is precious. 

John had a blast trying on the volunteer fireman's helmet a few weeks ago.  Kenyon refused to take off his John Deere cap. 

We are in the thick of a busy summer season, what with shipping and haying.  We took some time a few nights ago to regroup and gain our sanity on the banks of the lake.  The boys fished and Kathryn and I were content to be spectators as she lounged in my arms.  

Side note:  Kath-ryn is two syllables.  Cath-er-ine and other various spellings are three syllables.  A friendly PSA for the masses. 

Laurie.  I just love her.  

I don't care for small dogs and not a fan of dogs that are larger than horses, but heelers are just right.

After a long day of work and play, sleep comes pretty easily most nights around here. 

Very easily. 

Verrrrrrrry easily 

And when we are well rested we can be on our A game to entertain the masses once again!

We believe pretty firmly in immersing the kids in both work and play.  They don't seem to see a difference between the two, which is how more of us should view life I believe. 

And a final thought for the day.  I am trying to repeat this to myself often.  I cringe when I hear people openly call kids 'sassy' or 'mouthy' or 'crazy'.  I often see this followed by the kids turning around and saying something rude back to their parents or act garishly.  They are simply living up to expectations.  

I didn't realize until recently that I didn't hear my parents say these things when we were growing up.  My parents told folks that we were pretty well behaved (they didn't totally lie) and we were smart little girls.  I then knew that other folks had expectations from when they were told and we had better live up to the hype.  

I'll admit, I have days when I set the bar pretty low, but I am making a conscious effort to not call my kids some of these 'creative' names because I don't want to see this behavior emulated.  

This and That

According to the design blogs I follow, these are called industrial shelves and they are soooooo in style right now.  (By the way, I made them myself for our kitchen for about $40 while online retailers sell them for $100+.  Score!)  And the S C on the left is our brand.  I just love these metal letters, so why not include them in the picture?

Do you know what toddlers refer to these shelves as?  

A ladder.  

This prompted a nice talk on safety, what makes Momma mad, etc. 

Today in cattle shipping style...

We got done watching the men ship this morning and then ran back to the house before the heavens unleashed a torrential rain.  The past three days in a row it has literally been raining cats and dogs.  

Literally?  Really?  

This is the face I fear I make when someone says literally.  Because 99% of the time they actually mean figuratively.  When talking to some people I feel like I can't hardly keep up with the mental math if I deduct 10 points from their IQ each time they misuse the word literally.  The abuse of this word makes me want to scream.  LITERALLY.  

And now for something to help my blood pressure return to normal...

John has figured out that he is in the top 10% of most adorable creatures on the planet and he is using it to his advantage.  He tilts his head, smiles and literally melts my heart a million times a day.  

Oh boy, just like that my blood pressure is sky rocketing again...

I perform several hundred snap tests on cattle each month, resulting in lots and lots of packages in the mail every few weeks.  (Acutally, it's two gigantic boxes with 52 little boxes inside, but who's counting.)  Kenyon and I both look forward to these delivery days for entirely different reasons.  And yes, all these boxes get recycled when Kenyon is done playing with them.  We are big on recycling at our house which will be it's own lengthy blog post some day soon.

Behold: The world's longest train.

Rich Man, Poor Man

Recently, we had a friend from our college days that was sick and laid up in the hospital.  Several of our friends from surrounding states gathered at the hospital to check in on our buddy, Wesley being one of them.

While hanging out in the hospital waiting area, our friend Dwight* started to tease Wes about the state of his life: an often nagging wife, two kids in diapers, cattle and chores that need tended to daily, unstable cattle and grain markets, honey-do lists and the fact that Wes hadn't even been to the grocery store in years (I was a little thrown off by that jab, but nevertheless he listed it as it must have been a priority to him).

I guess Dwight had a point.  He did make his life sound pretty glamorous: single, carefree, no worries, going to the bar and hitting on women any time he wanted, able to go where he wanted and when he wanted.  He was able to eat exactly what he wanted because he bought exactly what he wanted at the grocery store (still not sure why he was so hung up on the grocery angle, but nevertheless, he was).

These statements were all pretty factual.  My husband does have a wife that nags him a bit too much; there isn't any financial stability in our lifestyle - especially when we are entirely dependent upon one income.  Dwight painted a pretty rosy picture of his lifestyle, but we could easily cast the same sort of negative light on his glamorous life.  He's single because his wife ran around on him and now they are divorced.  He goes out to the bars at night because he's too lonely when he sits at home by himself.  He eats grilled cheese sandwiches because he buys bread and cheese at the store. 

And I don't mean to totally make fun of his lifestyle, I just couldn't understand why he was being such a braggart and claiming that his was far superior to ours.  We survive financially because we're frugal (like, squeaky frugal), we have healthy kiddos and we enjoy our rowdy nights together in the feed pickup checking cattle.  I think we're doing okay.

I'm sitting here and trying to wrap my brain around the perfect quote to put all this into perspective and find a perfect little moral to my story.  The best I've been able to come up with is, "Dwight is an ass."  Which I feel is true, but not particularly nice.  And this isn't any sort of new revelation; I never much cared for him in college either.  So... It's all about perspective?  Life is what you make of it?  You're only as rich as you feel?  It's a Friday and I just can't quite put my finger on it exactly.  I'm open to suggestions.

*Name changed to protect the arrogant.

A List

• Do you ever have an extended period of time when both of your sick children are napping (and not napping on your chest)?  I am experiencing this phenomenon currently and I feel rather euphoric.  So giddy, in fact, that I almost felt like raising my hands in the air, doing a little dance and whooping it up.  I then remembered that I am not a Southern Baptist; I am a Lutheran.  Therefore I will continue to type quietly with a slight grin of contentment on my face.  This is how we express extreme joy.  This is most certainly true.  (If you are a Lutheran you are dying with laughter by now.  Or quietly chuckling with a slight grin on your face.  If you are not a Lutheran you don't really 'get it' but feel like some sort of inside joke just occurred.  You also are trying to go with the flow so you are chuckling with a slight grin on your face to act like you got it.  Either way I win.)  
• To follow through on one of my resolutions to clean and organize more, I've been trying to Kon Mari the crap out of my house.  You can take this to mean two things: 
• I've been trying to Kon Mari the crap (clutter, papers, trash, empty diaper boxes) out of my house.
• I've been trying to Kon Mari the HECK out of my house.  As in, clean, organize, vaccum and bleach everything in sight. Both of these interpretations are correct. 
• By now you are asking yourself, what is Kon Mari?  Good question. Urban Dictionary defines it as: to follow the process outlined in the book "The Magical Art of Tidying Up" by Marie Kondo.  And we all know that the urban dictionary never lies.  (Don't judge, it was the first one to appear on my google search list.)  I never researched much into the origins of Kon Mari or why people feel compelled to switch her name and the title of her cleaning methods, but I found a lady on Instagram during one of my 4 am feedings and she was always taking pictures of her clean closets and clean counter tops and ranting and raving about how Kon Mari changed her life.  So there you have it.  
• I had forgotten how long the winter can be with a new baby.  Last year, Kenyon and I played outside constantly regardless of the weather.  Poor baby John has put quite the crimp in our style this year.  Kenyon still gets to go outside and feed cattle with his dad, but there are many days when I am climbing up the walls.  Cabin fever is real, my friends.  Pray for me!

Resolutions

It's that time of year again; time to make some lofty goals for the upcoming year.  Last year my list of resolutions progressed really stupendously for the first month or so and then was derailed by my pregnancy.  This was not a 'slight change of plans' but more like the train jumped the entire track and left the station.

With no immediate goal of adding to our family, our plans for this year will look a bit different.  Let us begin:

• Less contractions.  Hundreds less contractions this year.  No, THOUSANDS less contractions this year.  I'm looking forward to their absence.  
• Similarly, less vomiting and morning sickness.  Again, I'm looking forward to its absense.  
• A better garden.  Anything is better than our feeble attempt from this summer.  
• I will be a bit more organized.  I make great strides on this each and every year, but it is something I feel everyone could always improve on.  A little more kon mari never hurt anyone. 
• I want Kenyon to become potty trained.  We'll see how this one goes.  I've never heard anything but horror stories about potty training boys, so if you have a miraculous success story please feel free to share it with the class. 
• Spend more time outside.  I feel this one will be super simple.  No pregnancy, no contractions, no 'suggested' bed rest to keep me cooped up inside.  Easy peasy.  
• Expand my cooking range.  Although the husband doesn't seem to mind my simple menu of about 10 standard items, it is starting to wear me out.  I am a simple person just like him, but mama needs a change, STAT.  This should be pretty simple as well.  My sister gifted me with the newest Pioneer Woman cookbook for Christmas.  Good call, Liza.  
• Send more handwritten notes to folks.  Snail mail that doesn't involve bills makes a soul feel good I've come to realize.  
• Drop at least one pant size.  We're not shooting for a Victoria Secret model body, just something with a little less junk in the trunk.  We'll see how this one progresses, especially since I just mentioned that I got a new cookbook.  Hmmmmm.
• See John begin to walk.  Of all my goals, I feel the 'no contractions' and 'John walking' will be the most achievable.  Both goals are also directly attributed to him as well.  
• Grow a thicker skin, especially when it comes to the 'little things'.  I am very good at handling large scale, end of the world disasters with a level head, but I will spend days over analyzing an off-handed comment from someone.  Really, my house is messy?  Really, I have weeds in my garden?  Really, my kids have a speck of dirt on them?  These are the things I must learn to let go of.  Again, if you have a miraculous success story you'd like to share with the class, feel free to let me know.  
• Less screen time for both parents and kids in our house.  I shudder when I think of how many children these days are not capable of carrying on a conversation with either their peers or adults.  The hubs and I are bound and determined not to let our kids get sucked into this hole, and as a result we hope to always be the 'awful' parents that won't let our kids have a tablet, ipad, gameboy, etc.  Less electronics and more dirt, that's our hope.  

Someone help hold me accountable, and good luck and Godspeed to those of you setting goals for yourself as well. 

Murphy's Laws: Wedding Edition

• If you plan an outdoor wedding, there will be a threat of rain.  If you're really "lucky," a flood occurs that's second only to Noah's.  One inch per hour, folks.  No joke. 
• If you're son is chosen to be esteemed ring bearer #2, rest assured he will fall ill with something rather deadly mere days before he is set to perform his duties.  Allergies, cold, botulism, take your pick. 
• If your son does come down with aforementioned illness, please take note that he will spend the days prior to his important wedding duties in a bit of a fog.  THE FOG leads to a host of spills and mishaps, including but not limited to: falling down the stairs, falling off a chair (x2), running into doors, running into table corners and general falling/tripping over absolutely nothing.  The poor child looks like he went 10 rounds with Ali. 

Yes, all these things and many, many more have occurred in the past 72 hours, but you get the point.  I actually had four more bullet points of mishaps we experienced but the list just became too depressing.  

Yes, Kenyon was in a wedding tonight.  Yes, he managed to make it down the aisle (his dad stood by the preacher and shook a can of Pringles chips).  Yes, we had to leave immediately after the supper ended and our sickly little child passed out in his car seat before we made it a mile out of town.  Yes, the wedding had to be moved indoors rather last minute.  All these things happened and more.  But who cares?  

The bride was beyond gorgeous, the food was superb, music sounded great and at the end of everything stood two folks who became one in marriage.  A good day, regardless of Murphy and his confounded laws. 

The outdoor rehearsal on Friday night was beautiful.

The groom's father built the awning they were to be married under.

Let me get this straight... They kiss at the end?  That's kind of gross.
(This is quite possibly my favorite picture of the entire weekend.)

Be still my heart.  If there was a cuteness quota for ring bearers, rest assured it was met.  And passed.