Three!

Asher turned three last Sunday. It was sneaky of him, but it's just the sort of thing I've come to expect. Why are these babies high-tailing it into adulthood?! Cool it with the growing up!

Okay. So he's three. We still have lots of time.

You know, if it weren't for pictures, I think I might have a tough time remembering what Asher looked like as a baby. Sad but true.

Here's our guy on the day he was born:

Then on his first birthday:

And on his second:

And now his third:

 

 

I knew he was growing up, I just didn't realize how fast.

Congrats on the big 0-3, Ash Man! We love you more than you could possibly know.

Jet-Setting, the Golden Age, and Alopecia

We took Andrew to the airport again yesterday. Another conference, in St. Louis this time. After this school year, he will have traveled to D.C., Chicago, Bentonville, St. Louis, New York, San Diego, Phoenix and Philadelphia.We really miss him while he's gone, but the boys and I are getting used to managing on our own. I will admit to having a little travel envy...especially because these conferences and conventions are mostly paid-for schmoozefests, with amazing food and accommodations. I am genuinely happy for Andrew's opportunity to go, but somehow him calling me from a black tie gala while I'm sporting a greasy ponytail, bouncing a baby and wiping a bottom is too stark a juxtaposition.

But I don't mean to make our plight here at home sound too bad...in fact, we are presently experiencing a bit

of a golden age. No one is teething or potty training; no colicky newborns or unruly toddlers (most of the time)...we can go out to eat with Asher happy coloring, while Preston looks on contentedly from his carrier. I can light a candle, and our eldest knows not to touch it, and our youngest is physically incapable. What a beautiful stage. I know it won't last, but while it's here, I'm gonna relish every minute.

 The most recent photo of our golden soon to be 3-year-old.

 (I know him wearing pj's in our van raises questions, but it's a long story.)

Life at present is so good, in fact, I'm afforded the luxury of worrying about the vain and trivial. Because, you see - I am going bald. Yes. Slick bald.

The months of effortlessly gorgeous pregnancy hair have vanished, and I am left brushing out my former glory in silky clumps. Welcome, scalp patches! And those steadfast few strands surviving the hormone change fall prey to young Preston, whose chubby fists claim more and more each day.

Here's a recent pic:




Okay, so I only dream of achieving that kind of volume...but you get the idea.

Luckily, I have a sweet, sympathetic husband, who frequently encounters my fallen friends, and comforts me by saying things like, "Eee! Are you kidding me?! Gross!" 

I just hang my head and hope the action doesn't cause more hair to give way.

Oh well. Things will improve in a few months. Maybe a head full of flyways will be a hot spring look.
 Or better yet, hats.

Our Holiday by the Numbers

1 last long Christmas break before Andrew is a slave to clinic.
3 weeks away from home.
60 hours spent in our van, with
2 little boys.
2,800 miles driven between Ohio, Oklahoma and Kentucky, to visit
70 different family members.
4 wonderful Christmas mornings
1 surprise musical number, completely unrehearsed (I love you, mom! :) Brought back memories of the time you threw me a surprise sweet 16 and invited only strangers).
10 different games played (ready for this? Rumikub, Geographacts [Andrew's idea #lovethatnerd], Transamerica, Spicy Farkle, Things in a Box [personal favorite], Ticket to Ride, Mafia, The Name Game, Settlers Cities and Knights, Settlers Seafarers), and in case that's not Mormon enough, 
7 bottles of sparkling grape juice. We had such a great time! Happy New Year!