The Farm, Disneyland, Etc.

So we actually did a fair amount of adventuring this last month. I told you about our whirlwind tour of Southern California with Matt’s mom and step-dad. But we also had a few other mini-excursions (but let’s face it—there is no such thing as a “mini” excursion when you have a newborn and a very energetic three-year-old. Going across the street to Trader Joe’s is an all-out road trip.) Emma’s now been to Disneyland three times in her little life. We went back with Matt’s parents, then went back for some more just a few days later with our friends, Karen, Steve, Delaney, and Jude. I took woefully few pictures. Partly because Emma was crying most of the time, partly because I was catching up with my friends, and partly because wrangling two little ones and carrying two babies requires a lot of attention. But we had a lovely time with them, as we always do. And, also as always, we came away sad that we live so far away (Riverside is FAR). We really do need to get together more often. For realsies.

We also took Emma and Ben to the farm. The farm is one of my favorite things to do, in part because it’s free, in part because it’s down the street, and in part because Ben loves animals. But mostly because it’s free. Emma did not love the farm. I did not take many pictures because I was relatively busy bouncing and swinging and calming my miserable little girl (this was during those first couple of months that she was pissed that she was no longer in my comfy belly). But Ben loved it, as always. AND there were teeny tiny newborn piggies. SO CUTE. We’ll try again with Emma soon now that she’s less angry about life and the world.

The end of September also brought Matt’s sister and her family down here to So Cal. But they stayed down in San Diego, which was just too much driving with Screamy McGee. So we drove down Saturday after my friend’s baby shower, hung out, and went to dinner. Ben continues to hate having his picture taken, but Emma has no say. So we abused Emma and Kaden (who’s just three weeks older than her) with a photo session. Pictures with Ben and Fynley proved to be elusive, as always, because of Ben’s constant movement (seriously—good luck Ben’s future teachers). It is nigh on impossible to get a picture that isn’t blurry and that includes his face. So for those of you that are all on my back about so many pictures of Emma and so few of Ben (ahem, Jonathan), shut your pie hole. That may have been too harsh. Sorry. I have a newborn. I’m moody.