GQ Photoshoot

My older sister, Libbi, says there are no pictures of her when she is little, unless they have Michael in them also. She's the second child. As for Emily, the third child, I've never heard her complain, but she's not much of a complainer. Still, I recently noticed that after GQ was born - and the manic photocraze that took place in his first days of life -we've largely neglected documenting his progress into a being that actually wakes up once in a while. Luckily, our digital camera makes it easy to remedy such a problem. (As long as E and M are asleep, and not begging for pictures of them too.)

So, without further ado we present GQ - week six (or seven... I'm really losing track of this counting thing).

Caption: "All these crazy paparazzi.... what's a guy to do?"

Caption: "Ah, shucks... you really think I'm that cute?"

Caption: "Okay, I suppose I'll smile at you. But count yourself lucky - and cover your nose."


Caption: "Whatever end you look at me from, I must admit I'm handsome."

Caption: "Enough already... I'm going to sleep."

Caption: "See, I do have some hair. It's just multi-colored, and thinning on top."

Caption: "Obviously my mom really thinks my feet are cute."

Caption: "Until next time... I'll be sleeping some more."

By The Way...

... M did pick my plants... but she picked the only ones that didn't look like weeds.

She has discriminating taste.

On Beach Losses.... and Un-Losses

While riding home from the beach, E watched movies with the use of her fancy-shmancy headphones... provided by Dad. When we first showed them to her she asked what the wire was for that connected them to the car. Truly she is a product of the wireless generation. Anyway, while traveling home E suddenly announces:

"Mom, I can't hear my movie anymore."

Mom groans. This means I get to crawl to the back of the van to plug the cord back in... but on closer examination, we find this in not necessary. Why, you ask?

Oh, because the cord is still plugged in. That's right. It's just that E, in pursuit of freedom from wires - I suppose, decided to chew through the wire. That's right, my children can keep nothing out of their mouths. Not even on fear of electrocution. So, another pair of headphones bites the dust.

In other news, my horrible weed-plants (I decided to try planting seeds this year... they've grown into weeds) decided to live through my week-long departure. This means I must continue to water them, despite the fact that they're ugly. It does seem wrong to just stop watering something that's alive. Even if it's ugly. Especially since it's ugly? Anybody want a few weeds? Maybe I'll just let E pick them!

The Beach

And off they walked into the sunset...

Or alternatively... Meanwhile, I read books on the beach and left all those children to him... ha ha...

Or finally... What a sight!!

How are those for openings?

And yes, I did eventually cover up GQ's head.

And yes, E is clinging to her Daddy's leg for dear life. M loved the water, and E loved staying up in the condo and playing dress-up princess. Are we really surprised?

E, during one of her short stints on the beach. She is hanging out next to M's favorite snacks. You try convincing the girl not to eat seaweed. I challenge you to accomplish that!

GQ developed a serious acne problem since I decided to brave the dangers of sunblock and skip the dangers of burning. (We'll leave that to Justin... how a red-head "forgets" to put sunblock on his legs is more than beyond me.)

GQ and Mom spent most of the trip like this. (And that does include fake-smiling for the picture you're pretending you don't know about.)

Justin pulls off this fake-glance-away sooo much better than me.

Another attempt at feigning obliviousness.

Whenever a wave would come, Justin would say "I've gotcha." Soon M was returning the favor: "Gotcha, Daddy. Gotcha."

Anyone want to teach me how to photoshop out the other foot in the corner?

Cousins. They did great together. Other than that time when E threw a block at Ava's head. Says Mom: "Why did you throw a block at Ava's head?" Says E, "Well, she threw (insert some extraordinarily soft item here... like kleenex or a blanket or maybe even nothing at all) at me." Oh, of course. That completely makes it kosher to throw a block at your cousin's head. Not that I can say I've never done it. What say you, Laura? Have I ever thrown a block at your head? Or was it something larger? Hmmmm... the fine art of being cousins...

Writing their names in the sand...

The Christensen clan... the third generation. Never mind that Russ Russ is screaming for his mother.... who just sat him down and abandoned him... can you believe it?????? I believe the intructions for this photo were "Grab your children, drop them, and run." Mission accomplished. I think the other beach-goers were more than gawking at the abundance of toddler-aged children we gathered up between us.

When all else fails... just stand on your head.

The Drunken Sailor

If you look closely at this little head... you'd find a plethora of bruises. Andy decided walking does not require balance or planning. All you need to do is pick up your feet and initiate movement. I don't think I've ever watched anything so amusing.

Grant's Blessing

Since my sister, Emily was in town the first week of August, we decided to have GQ's blessing. I'm sure if his head weren't tipping off his shoulders he'd be smiling about the whole thing.


The kids posing BEFORE sacrament. Since M's hair is usually yanked out in the car, and GQ usually spits up all over his clothes... we thought this would be best. Thanks to Grandma Paula for the blessing outfit.

Four generations of Wood men. GQ is actually the first "official" Wood of his generation. He's wearing his after-blessing outfit - courtesy of Aunt Em... the primary provider of his entire wardrobe.

Vulnerability

I read a quote once that said something meaningful like: "Having a child is like deciding to let your heart walk around outside your body."

I've discovered it must come to about the same thing to decide to have a blankie.

For instance, when you have a blankie your older sister can grab said article and run up the stairs yelling:

"You have to come play with me, I'm taking your blankie."

Or, without any words at all, she can just pick up the blankie and hold it over her head as ransom.

Or, if you take one of her ponies she can grab your blankie and run away screaming.

It's a dangerous business, this blankie deal.

Luckily, M has found a solution. Apparently loud-pitched screaming on her part (which usually gets E in trouble - oldest child syndrome, a discussion for another day) results in comments like this:

"Shhhh, I'm giving it back.... I'm giving it back... I'm giving it back... please, stop screaming."

A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.

You Know You're Thinking it Too...

Says Grandma Wood to Grandma Paula and Grandpa Mark: "We told you no presents. We don't like presents, we like memories."

Says E, after a few moments thought: "Well, I like presents!!!"