Lincoln and Sawyer love each other. They played like boys-plenty of pushing and toy thieving involved-but they loved each like brothers and kept laying on the slobbery head kisses no matter how many times Sawyer pulled Linc's hair, or how often Linc knocked Sawyer over in exuberance.
The Phoenix Children's Museum-"Child Heaven"
the boys played themselves ragged; there was no end to things to explore, demolish, and rifle through
Lincoln's Dinosaur-Themed 1st Birthday
my complements to the party planner, Lincoln had an amazing party
{the new Lincoln memorial} |
{Sawyer's oh-no-Linc-is-gonna-get-me face} {or his why-did-he-just-screech-like-that face} |
Strolling in the Desert Parks
as well as grass eating, swinging and napping
Well we weren't late to the airport, nor did I forget my license, but I may have forgotten Sawyer's birth certificate. I realized I had forgotten it as we pulled into the airport, and then I realized there was no time to go back and get it, and then I realized I really stink at traveling by plane. Thankfully for us, a birth certificate isn't needed to offer proof that I am indeed transporting my child and not another person's, it's just to verify that the child is under 2 years, thereby not needing a separate ticket. Yikes.
As usual, Sawyer was an excellent traveler, even winning the merits of the somewhat grungy man sitting behind us who was turning Sawyer's ears red with curses and tales of drugs, sex, and violence for the duration of the flight. He was kind enough to say something like, "I wasn't happy when you sat in front of us, but your kid was awesome." To which I was kind enough to say something like, "gee thanks grungy man" (at least, I said that in my mind).
With a somewhat rocky start, I was glad to get to Arizona and be with my favorite people for six wonderful days. The more time I spend with family the more I discover how beautiful it is to be together and not only be involved in each other's lives, but in sharing one another's lives. My mom, sister, and I so effortlessly transitioned between bouncing Sawyer on one hip and chasing Lincoln in five steps, then whipping up multiple snacks and bottles and baths. A friend told me once that she really believes there is something to the whole tribal family living idea, especially when it comes to raising children. We are meant to be together-helping, loving, chasing, patting, feeding, wiping, rocking. This trip made that observation evident to me. And nothing solidified it more as upon our return I was inundated with a messy house, an empty fridge, 10 loads of laundry, a sick baby, a sick self, a sick husband, and my back up was still in Arizona.
Here's hoping for another tribal gathering sometime in our near future.
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