A Dad, A Mom, and Three Little Heathens

We've told them many times. 4 times exactly. My children and the Brothers for some reason like to play in the Leafy Spurge that grows in the gully behind their grandparent's house. Because the toxic weed excretes a milky and sticky fluid, they wipe the sap on their faces and arms as war paint. 12 hours later they pay the price for their wild foray into the traditional past. Hives, blisters, and red puffy marks follow the same designs as the war paint like some symmetric allergy. The first time it happened, we could not figure out what it was. Five of them, all covered in their tribal welts. On the day before Thanksgiving, We invite the neighborhood over to my in-law's house to celebrate an early feast before the next day's main event. We call it pie night. The theory is that we never have enough room to eat as much pie as we want with turkey, stuffing, potatoes, gravy, cranberries, salad, and whatever you stuff your face with on Thanksgiving, so we eat our pie on th...

Originally published July 2017 This was a gift from my sister Chelsea. It's an original hand-crafted sign. She sells them at her weekly farmer's market.  8:00 PM is a sacred time at my house, it's the time when humans under the age of 16 (let's make that 21) have to be in bed. The process is simple in theory: change into pajamas, potty, wash hands, melatonin for Jesse, several small cups of water equally distributed, prayers, read scriptures, read stories, good night. That is how it is supposed to go. Instead, children don't always do what you want. I don't think that I have repeated myself more than when I am asking children to go to bed. Even if they are highly trained, they find some way to get out of bed and drag the process out late into the night. In truth, tonight was a normal, easy going bedtime. There was no shouting. Sarah and I had to guide the children into pajamas with a little more direction than normal, but it went smoothly as could b...

Originally Posted on August 2017 Parents who take their children on vacation are crazy. Let me say that again. Parents who take their children on vacation are loco in the head. There should be little hotels where you can check your children in (as long as they are vaccinated) so couples can go spend a little time together. So how did this opinion of mine come to light? Well, I’ll tell you. Recently, Sarah and I were on vacation in Council, a little town in Western, Idaho. This one or two stoplight town (I’m not really sure, and I want to give the village its due), is in the heart of a beautiful little mountain valley. Pine trees and fields, small rivers and open skies. Just starting out on a treasure hunt. On the way to our three-day stay at a cabin off the highway, we had to pass through a little town called Wieser. Griffin, who has been on the, “are we there yet” and “my tummy hurts” and “I’ve been sitting here for the last 40,000 hours” and the “my butt is turnin...

Buddies, even in a hail storm As most of the nation's attention is drawn to the devastating effects of Hurricane Harvey, We in the West are burning up, literally. The fires rage in Washington and Montana and the rest of the West breathes it in. The high school football games were canceled because of air quality, (This comment is in no way meant to make light of those suffering in Texas. Instead, I'm stating that we haven't seen the sun for a while.) Portland was a blur behind smokey skies on September 5, 2017. (SBG photo)&nbsp Need I say more. Now this will seem obvious to most of my readers because you're here with me, but for those of you who read my stuff internationally, you may find our normally clear skies unappealing this time of year.   We like pine trees and forests in the West, but we don't like to breathe them. And this is the season of the burn. Every year my home state burns. Every year I breathe it in and wonder when the rains will come....

 Originally Posted September 2016 Rare occasion. Griffin's natural smile. After watching The Book of Life , a cartoon with my children tonight, Jesse said that he was a Mexican. I corrected him by saying that he was not Mexican. "But what am I Dad? he asked. His grandpa responded, "Anglo-Saxon." I tried to clarify by saying, "European American." He scrunched up his face in a squinched, inquisitive look and asked, "I'm a peeing American?" "European American as in Europe." Then Griffin asked, "Dad, am I a peeing American?" Sarahmay found the winter clothes and started putting them on. Needless to say, Ray and I had a hard time regaining our composure, but the boys thought that we were laughing about the "pee" joke. Why are little boys, and to an extent all little children, so attracted to potty humor? This is a question that I have yet to answer; although, I have my theories. It must have ...

Originally Published Sept 2016 Griffin, Jesse, and their cousin Jaxton.  Little heathens in the heathen wagon. "Daddy can't drive, he can't, because he will fly out the window and the car will blow up," Sarahmay yells as I climb into the driver's seat. That's how the annual trip to the fair started. (I'm still not sure where she gets her inspiration for these comments about my driving. There is hope that I might avoid a future driving test with a decrepit DMV instructor. This evening when Sarah asked Sarahmay if she was excited to wear her backpack to school tomorrow she said, "No, I don't want to go to school, because, because, because, because, I will fall and hit my noggin and my hand will hit and get a cut." It's got to be all of the tragedy she is exposed to in Disney films.) Our state fair is a nice little fair as state fairs go. Compared to the enormous affairs of the East and Midwest, our fair is merely an excuse to go...

Originally posted September 3, 2016 Meet Sarah This is the beautiful, somewhat crazy, lady I convinced to marry me. Although the better half of our relationship, she at least bears half of the blame for the three little heathens we have set loose on the world. I owe most of the good in my life to her. This might sound a bit like a romantic move on my part to enter her better graces, (and it is) but I realize that without her, I would probably be someone's itinerant visitor who occasionally sleeps on the couch and eats the left-overs no one else wants. (Who am I kidding? I don't eat leftovers.) That or I would probably be a permanent resident in someone's basement bunking with some millennial trying to upgrade my armor in World of Warcraft. My successes, if they can be counted as such come from her vision of my better self. I've got it made... Who am I kidding? She needs counseling just as much as I do. She married me for heaven's sake. Meet Jesse: ...

Originally Published 9/1/2017 The week before school started, we went on one last camping trip to a beautiful, high-mountain lake secreted in the back pocket of Burley, Idaho. My children were excited to go on this trip because we would be camping with our family friends. Lake Cleveland, Idaho is a gorgeous, high-mountain lake that is regularly stocked with cutthroat and rainbow trout. Its beautiful waters are also free of motorized watercraft, so the area stays free of noise and the raucous behaviors that are associated with thrill seeking on the water. It is a place out of time and mind unless you live close by. The people of the eastern Magic Valley are protective of their little treasure and for a good reason. For it is a place where the muscles can relax, the mind can ease, and the kids can run around. Unless you are Jesse and Griffin. As Sarah drove up Mount Harrison, we passed through some heavy hail and slush on the road. Keep in mind this was the second week in August. ...