Monday, March 6, 2017


   Summer 2006: Cara and I were working at a YMCA camp in Estes Park, CO, just outside Rocky National Park. At this time we're just friends, although it's probably more accurate to say we're friends but she's looking my direction. We're meeting some new people at a table in the dining hall. These two girls, sisters, have a total of seven kids in their family, five girls and two boys. Three of the sisters in total were at the camp, working with us.

   "Where are the boys?" Cara asks in an innocent, yet telling manner.

   "She asks that question all the time," I deadpan.

   That summer wore on. She starts to fall for me. Everyone knows it. Whatever, I don't care, I've got a job to do: building signs for the cabins at the camp where I work. It's a fantastic job for a lot of reasons, most of which involve Los and I driving a Gator down steep mountain roads with our eyes closed, but at the end of the summer I crafted this:
I call the wife "Cuhruh" pretty often, pronounced "cuh ruh."That little heart on there was Wyatt's valentine to mom. It says "Mom loves Wyatt," without any help from me. Gosh that boy is perfect. It's also way better than the thing I got Cuhruh for Valentine's day, which was nothing.

   It takes a special kind of ego to give someone a sign telling them they like you.

   The back side said this:

I somehow managed to make the back side much less glarey.

   Cara was going to leave the summer camp a couple weeks early to go to her sister's wedding. I wanted to give her a going away present. Los, the poor sap who was stuck working with me all summer, couldn't quite wrap his head around the fact that I was giving a girl a sign declaring her love for me, but I knew what I was doing.
   Little did I know, however, that "Where are the boys?" would become the mantra for our family.  Not only that we'll only have boys, but that we'll probably never know where they are because of how bad of a mom she turned out to be. The sign sits up in the boy's room right now, but I think I might screw it above their door frame when the three of them start sharing one room in a few years. Cause there's no reason that whole scenario can't work great.

   It's true: baby #3, due towards the end of May, is also boy #3. We are pumped because a) we have all the right toys and clothes, b) we seem to know how to raise boys, and c) middle/high school girls are terrifying. That last part cannot be understated, and it's coming from a high school teacher.

   Before you ask, let me ease your concerns: Yes, Cara is happy to be having another boy.
she is so adored by these boys and knows she has a long period of asking boys to bring in groceries, mow lawns, and climb on the fireplace. She isn't pumped about the smells she's about to smell, nor the size of our food bill to come, but she's happy.

   Wyatt has really stuck to his guns and insisted that the baby be called "Jet," and has even gone so far as to come up with a full middle name: Jet Henry Gilchrist. It is probably going to be the kid's name, because when you leave coming up with a name to Cara and I it takes 4 days after the baby is born before we just give up and pick the last name we heard.

Wyatt's mood: can't wait to be a big brother again.
My mood: can't wait to have a wife who can walk without complaining about pregnancy pain again. Lincoln's mood: can't wait for his next meal.
Listening to: Kings of Leon

Tuesday, February 7, 2017

Puppy Sitting!!

   Uncle Garrett and Aunt Faith got a puppy in early January. It's the cutest thing since Lincoln, and is probably topping the "Cutest Gilchrist" charts overall these days. (Since you asked: 1) Phoebe 2) Grant 3-6) pretty much a tossup). We were asked to watch it for a night while they went to the beach, and couldn't wait. By "couldn't wait" what I really mean is "want to have leverage when we need our kids babysat."

This is what happens:

Lincoln is pretty fascinated with the inner workings of the doggie-bag-pouch of this leash. Phoebe is discovering sticks. This is the most active the gang was on any walk.
   Cara and both don't want pets, and haven't from the start. I am fond of dogs, I just want to play with yours. But having an adorable puppy for a night sounded like lots of fun. It wasn't until we drove Phoebe to our home that something dawned on me: After this night, the boys might want a puppy. They'd spend the next 11 years asking for a dog, until they move out of the house. I'd be stuck having to tell my kids the same lies my dad told me: "Dogs don't want to live in the city, they need space to run." "Dogs aren't supposed to be indoors." "Dogs are known to bite off your fingers while you sleep." Yeah right, dad!! I'm older now and I know they only eat toes!!

   But here's the good news: Phoebe is the worst. It was basically Phoebe and Cara and Me and Marley and Me Except The Dog Doesn't Die if you know what I mean. There were several times she jumped on Lincoln and started puppy-nibbling him. And me yelling "Fight back Link!" to the two-year-old seemed to make no difference. She peed and pooped in all the wrong places, needed to be walked multiple times, and she even grabbed a pen and started writing on the walls! Look at this mess she made:

Thanks, Phoebe and definitely not Lincoln.

Wow, Pheebs, did you grab a different pen?

And then did you sneak into our house like two weeks later!? That's dedication.

And look at this mess you left on our counter. Those scissors are precariously close to the edge, you dumb dog. And why did you make my kitchen so grainy? It's now dawning on me that I am speaking to you, a dog, who cannot read.

I'd love to say that this was Phoebe, but no. I'd built one of my best train tracks ever. Wyatt wanted me to play fire engines on it with him, and I didn't want to play. He said "Oh no there's a fire, who's going to put it out?!" I called his bluff and kept watching New Girl. The whole thing got torched. We've not spoken since.

   When we were driving Phoebe back home, I asked the boys if we should get a dog. Wyatt said "Nah" and Lincoln said "Feesh!" which is the sound he makes whenever he sees anything ever. It looks like we dodged the dog bullet. The best part is now I can say things like "We had a dog for a night and we all hated it." whenever my kids ask for one in the future. I can also say "Lincoln literally walked up to me and handed me a turd." without mentioning that it wasn't Phoebe's.. He pulled it out of his own diaper. This is a true story. I was sleeping on the couch and woke up with a Lincoln turd, in Lincoln's hand, right under my nose. I know what you are thinking: Grant, how can you ALWAYS manage to find a way to talk about poop in your blog? It's a gift. You're also thinking No I wasn't thinking that. I was thinking "How do you make parenting look so glamorous all the time?" It's a curse.

We love Phoebe and haven't got to play with her enough lately, but for now I am content with my own little puppies - who I still often feed by putting food on the kitchen floor and leaving it there until they are hungy. #dadoftheweek

Wyatt's mood: wants to play Mario all day
Link's mood: surprisingly content to watch Wy play Mario all day.
My mood: ready for spring
Cara's mood: Sleepy and uncomfortable.
Listening to: Mario game music.