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:
It takes a special kind of ego to give someone a sign telling them they like you.
The back side said this:
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
"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
I like everything about that post except what your listening to. They drive me nuts.
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